/  '■^' "    '^'' 


Vsrrtl    f1«Er=' 


Jeanie  and  the  Laird  of  Dumbiedykes 

Drawn  by  W:il.  Paget  —  Etched  by  V.  Focillon 


Illustrated  Sterling  6dition 


THE    HEART   OF   MIDLOTHIAN 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR 


BY 
SIR   WALTER   SCOTT,    BART. 


^'^im 


BOSTON 
DANA  ESTES  .V  COM? ANY 

PUBLISHERS 


0-r^^4^ 


6 


180 

fu/. 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


t 

HEART   OF   MIDLOTHIAN 

PAGE 

Jeanie  and  the  Laird  of  Dumbiedykes  .         .          Frontispiece 
The  Laird  of  Dumbiedykes  in  Dean's  Cottage,  Wood- 
end  78 

MuscHATS  Cairn 146 

Madge  Wildfire  before  Bailie  Middleburgh       .         .  182 
The  Interview  between  Effie  Deans  and  Her  Sister 

IN  Prison ,         .  200 

View  from  Richmond  Hill         ......  363 

The  Death  of  Sir  George  Staunton       ....  518 


BRIDE   OF    LAMMERMOOR 


15 

43 

65 
106 


Ravenswood  Castle     .....        ^       . 
Lucy  Ashton  at  the  Fountain         .... 

Wolfs  Craig  . 

Caleb  Balderstone's  Ruse         ..... 
Lady  Ashton's  Interview  with  Her  Husband  Relative 

TO  Ravenswood's  Quitting  the  Mansion  . 
Scene     in     the     Bridal     Chamber — ^olonel    Ashton 

Finding  the  Body  of  Bucklaw 294 


05 


M29a86 


TALES     OF    MY    LANDLORD 


Hear,  Land  o'  Cakes  and  brither  Scots, 
Frae  Maidenkirk  to  Johnny  Groat's, 
If  there's  a  hole  in  a'  your  coats, 

I  rede  ye  tent  it ; 
A  duel's  amang  you  takin'  notes, 

An'  faith  he'U  prent  it ! 

Burns 


Ahora  Men,  dixo  il  Cura,  traedme,  senor  huesped,  aquesos  lihro,.^ 
^ue  los  quiero  ver.  Que  me  place,  respondio  el,  y  entrando  en  su 
aposento,  saco  del  una  maletilla  vieja  cerrada  con  una  cadenilla,  y 
abriendola  hallo  en  ella  tres  libros  grandes  y  unos  papeles  de  muy 
buena  letra  escritos  de  mano. — Don  Quixote,  Parte  I. ,   Capitulo 


It  is  mighty  well,  said  the  priest  ;  pray,  landlord,  bring  me 
those  books,  for  I  have  a.  mind  to  see  them.  With  all  my  heart, 
answered  the  host ;  and  going  to  his  chamber,  he  brought  out  a 
little  old  cloke-bag,  with  a  padlock  and  chain  to  it,  and  opening  it, 
he  took  out  three  large  volumes,  and  some  manuscript  papers  writ- 
ten in  a  fiae  character. — Jarvis's  Translation, 


mTRODUCTIOJT 

TO 

THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN 

The  Author  has  stated  in  the  preface  to  the  Chronicles  of 
the  Canongate,  1827,  that  he  received  from  an  anonymous 
correspondent  an  account  of  the  incident  upon  which  the 
following  story  is  founded.  He  is  now  at  liberty  to  say  that 
the  information  was  conveyed  to  him  by  a  late  amiable  and 
ingenious  lady,  whose  wit  and  power  of  remarking  and 
judging  of  character  still  survive  in  the  memory  of  her 
friends.  Her  maiden  name  was  Miss  Helen  Lawson,  of 
Girthhead,  and  she  was  wife  of  Thomas  Goldie,  Esq.,  of 
Craigmuie,  Commissary  of  Dumfries. 

Her  communication  was  in  these  words  : 

"  I  had  taken  for  summer  lodgings  a  cottage  near  the  old 
Abbey  of  Lincluden.  It  had  formerly  been  inhabited  by  a 
lady  who  had  pleasure  in  embellishing  cottages,  which  she 
found  perhaps  homely  and  even  poor  enough  ;  mine  there- 
fore possessed  many  marks  of  taste  and  elegance  unusual  in 
this  species  of  halaitation  in  Scotland,  where  a  cottage  is 
literally  what  its  name  declares. 

"  From  my  cottage  door  I  had  a  partial  view  of  the  old 
Abbey  before  mentioned  ;  some  of  the  highest  arches  were 
seen  over,  and  some  through,  the  trees  were  scattered  along 
a  lane  which  led  down  to  the  ruin,  and  the  strange  fantastic 
shapes  of  almost  all  those  old  ashes  accorded  wonderfully 
well  with  the  building  they  at  once  shaded  and  ornamented. 

"  The  Abbey  itself  from  my  door  was  almost  on  a  level 
with  the  cottage  ;  but  on  coming  to  the  end  of  the  lane,  it 
was  discovered  to  be  situated  on  a  high  perpendicular  bank, 
at  the  foot  of  which  run  the  clear  waters  of  the  Cluden, 
where  they  hasten  to  join  the  sweeping  Nith, 

ix 


X  \VA  VEULEY  NOVELS. 

Whose  distance  roaring  swells  and  fa's. 

As  my  kitchen  and  parlor  were  not  very  far  distant,  I  one 
day  went  in  to  purchase  some  chickens  from  a  person  I  heard 
offering  them  for  sale.  It  was  a  little,  rather  stout-looking 
woman,  who  seemed  to  be  between  seventy  and  eighty  years 
of  age  ;  she  was  almost  covered  with  a  tartan  plaid,  and  her 
cap  had  over  it  a  black  silk  hood  tied  under  the  chin,  a 
piece  of  dress  still  much  in  use  among  elderly  women  of  that 
rank  of  life  in  Scotland  ;  her  eyes  were  dark,  and  remark- 
ably lively  and  intelligent.  I  entered  into  conversation  with 
her,  and  began  by  asking  how  she  maintained  herself,  etc. 

*'  She  said  that  in  winter  she  footed  stockings,  that  is, 
knit  feet  to  country  people's  stockings,  which  bears  about 
the  same  relation  to  stocking-knitting  that  cobbling  does  to 
shoemaking,  and  is  of  course  both  less  profitable  and  less 
dignified  ;  she  likewise  taught  a  few  children  to  read,  and 
in  summer  she  whiles  reared  a  few  chickens. 

I  said  I  could  venture  to  guess  from  her  face  she  had 
never  been  married.  She  laughed  heartily  at  this,  and  said, 
"1  maun  hae  the  queerist  face  that  ever  was  seen,  that  ye 
could  guess  that.  Now,  do  tell  me,  madam,  how  ye  cam  to 
think  sae  "}"  I  told  her  it  was  from  her  cheerful  disengaged 
countenance.  She  said,  "  Mem,  have  ye  na  far  mair  reason 
to  be  happy  than  me,  wi'  a  gude  husband  and  a  fine  family 
o'  bairns,  and  plenty  o'  everything  ?  For  me,  I'm  the 
puirest  o'  a'  puir  bodies,  and  can  hardly  contrive  to  keep 
mysell  alive  in  a'  thae  wee  bits  o'  ways  I  hae  tell't  ye." 
After  some  more  conversation,  during  which  I  was  more 
and  more  pleased  with  the  old  woman's  sensible  conver- 
sation and  the  naivete  of  her  remarks,  she  rose  to  go  away, 
when  I  asked  her  name.  Her  countenance  suddenly 
clouded,  and  she  said  gravely,  rather  coloring,  "  My  name 
is  Helen  Walker ;  but  your  husband  kens  weel  about 
me." 

"  In  the  evening  I  related  how  much  I  had  been  pleased,  and 
inquired  what  was  extraordinary  in  the  history  of  the  poor  wo- 
man.  Mr. said,  there  were  perhaps  few  more  remarkable 

people  than  Helen  Walker.  She  had  been  left  an  orphan,  with 
the  charge  of  a  sister  considerably  younger  than  herself,  and 
who  was  educated  and  maintained  by  her  exertions.  At- 
tached to  her  by  so  many  ties,  therefore,  it  will  not  be  easy  to 
conceive  her  feelings  wlien  she  found  that  this  only  sister 
must  be  tried  by  the  laws  of  her  country  for  child-murder,  and 
upon  being  called  as  principal  witness  against  her.     The 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN    xi 

counsel  for  the  prisoner  told  Helen,  that  if  she  could  declare 
that  her  sister  had  made  any  preparations,  however  slight,  or 
had  given  her  any  intimation  on  the  subject,  such  a  statement 
would  save  her  sister's  life,  as  she  was  the  principal  witness 
against  her.  Helen  said,  '  It  is  impossible  for  me  to  swear 
to  a  falsehood  ;  and,  whatever  may  be  the  consequence,  I  will 
give  my  oath  according  to  my  conscience.' 

'"Tiie  trial  came  on,  and  the  sister  was  found  guilty  and 
condemned  ;  but,  in  Scotland,  six  weeks  must  elapse  between 
the  sentence  and  the  execution,  and  Helen  Walker  availed  her- 
self of  it.  The  very  day  of  her  sister's  condemnation,  she  got  a 
petition  drawn  up,  stating  the  peculiar  circumstances  of  the 
case,  and  that  very  night  set  out  on  foot  to  London. 

"Without  introduction  or  recommendation,  with  her  sim- 
ple, perhaps  ill-expressed,  petition,  drawn  up  by  some  inferior 
clerk  of  the  court,  she  presented  herself,  in  her  tartan  plaid 
and  country  attire,  to  the  late  Duke  of  Argyle,  who  immedi- 
ately procured  the  pardon  she  petitioned  for,  and  Helen  re- 
turned with  it  on  foot,  just  in  time  to  save  her  sister. 

'^  I  was  so  strongly  interested  by  this  narrative,  that  I 
determined  immediately  to  j)rosecute  my  acquaintance  with 
Helen  Walker ;  but  as  I  was  to  leave  the  country  next  day,  I 
was  obliged  to  defer  it  till  my  return  in  spring,  when  the  first 
walk  I  took  was  to  Helen  ^Valker's  cottage. 

"  She  had  died  a  short  time  before.  My  regret  was  ex- 
treme, and  I  endeavored  to  obtain  some  account  of  Helen  from 
an  old  woman  who  inhabited  the  other  end  of  her  cottage.  I 
inquired  if  Helen  ever  spoke  of  her  past  history,  her  journey 
to  London,  etc.  '  Na,'  the  old  woman  said,  '  Helen  was  a  wily 
body,  and  whene'er  ony  o'  the  neebors  asked  anything  about 
it,  she  aye  turned  the  conversation.' 

"  In  short,  every  answer  I  received  only  tended  to  increase 
my  regret,  and  raise  my  opinion  of  Helen  Walker,  who  could 
unite  so  much  prudence  with  so  much  heroic  virtue." 

This  narrative  was  enclosed  in  the  following  letter  to  the 
Author,  without  date  or  signature: 

"  SiE — The  occurrence  just  related  happened  to  me 
twenty-six  years  ago.  Helen  Walker  lies  buried  in  the  church- 
yard of  Irongray,  about  six  miles  from  Dumfries.  I  once  pro- 
posed that  a  small  monument  should  have  been  erected  to 
commemorate  so  remarkable  a  character,  but  I  now  prefer 
leaving  it  to  you  to  perpetuate  her  memory  in  a  more  dura- 
ble manner." 


Kii  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

The  reader  is  now  able  to  judge  how  far  the  Anthor  has 
improved  upon,  or  fallen  short  of,  the  pleasing  and  interest- 
ing sketch  of  high  principle  and  steady  affection  displayed  by 
Helen  Walker,  the  prototype  of  the  fictitious  Jeanie  Deans. 
Mrs.  Goldie  was  unfortunately  dead  before  the  Author  had 
given  his  name  to  these  volumes,  so  he  lost  all  opportunity  of 
thanking  that  lady  for  her  highly  valuable  communication. 
But  her  daughter,  Miss  Goldie,  obliged  him  with  the  follow- 
ing additional  information : 

"  Mrs.  Goldie  endeavored  to  collect  further  particulars  of 
Helen  Walker,  particularly  concerning  her  journey  to  London, 
but  found  this  nearly  impossible  ;  as  the  natural  dignity  of  her 
character,  and  a  high  sense  of  family  respectability,  made  her 
so  indissolubly  connect  her  sister's  disgrace  with  her  own  exer- 
tions, that  none  of  her  neighbors  durst  ever  question  her  upon 
the  subject.  One  old  woman,  a  distant  relation  of  Helen's, 
and  who  is  still  living,  says  she  worked  an  harvest  with  her, 
but  that  she  never  ventured  to  ask  her  about  her  sister's  trial, 
or  her  journey  to  London.  '  Helen,'  she  added,  '  was  a 
lofty  body,  and  used  a  high  style  o'  language.'  The  same  old 
woman  says  that  every  year  Helen  received  a  cheese  from  her 
sister,  who  lived  at  Whitehaven,  and  that  she  always  sent  a 
liberal  portion  of  it  to  herself  or  to  her  father's  family.  This 
fact,  though  trivial  in  itself,  strongly  marks  the  affection  sub- 
sisting between  the  two  sisters,  and  the  complete  conviction 
on  the  mind  of  the  criminal  that  her  sister  had  acted  solely 
from  high  principle,  not  from  any  want  of  feeling,  which  an- 
other small  but  characteristic  trait  will  further  illustrate.  A 
gentleman,  a  relation  of  Mrs,  Goldie's,  who  happened  to  be 
travelling  in  the  North  of  England,  on  coming  to  a  small  inn, 
was  shown  into  the  parlor  by  a  female  servant,  who,  after 
cautiously  shutting  the  door,  said,  '  Sir,  I'm  Nelly  Walker's 
sister.'  Thus  practically  showing  that  she  considered  her  sis- 
ter as  better  known  by  her  high  conduct  than  even  herself  by 
a  different  kind  of  celebrity. 

"  Mrs.  Goldie  was  extremely  anxious  to  have  a  tombstone 
and  an  inscription  upon  it  erected  in  Irongray  churchyard  ; 
and  if  Sir  Walter  Scott  will  condescend  to  write  the  last,  a 
little  subscription  could  be  easily  raised  in  the  immediate 
neighborhood,  and  Mrs.  Goldie's  wish  be  thus  fulfilled." 

It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  add,  that  the  request  of  Miss 
Goldie  will  be  most  willingly  complied  with,  and  without  the 
necessity  of  any  tax  on  the  public*     Nor  is  there  much  oc- 

*  See  Tombstone  to  Helen  Walker.    Nof  p  » 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  xiii 

casiou  to  repeat  how  much  the  Author  conceives  himself 
obliged  to  his  unknown  correspondent,  who  thus  supplied  him 
with  a  theme  affording  such  a  pleasing  view  of  the  moral 
dignity  of  virtue,  though  unaided  by  birth,  beauty,  or  talent. 
If  the  picture  has  suffered  in  the  execution,  it  is  from  the 
failure  of  the  Author's  powers  to  present  in  detail  the  same 
dmple  and  striking  portrait  exhibited  in  Mrs.  Goldie's  letter. 

Abbotsford,  April  1,  1830. 


Although  it  would  be  impossible  to  add  much  to  Mrs.  Goldie's 
picturesque  and  most  interesting  account  of  Helen  Walker, 
the  prototype  of  the  imaginary  Jeanie  Deans,  the  Editor  may 
be  pardoned  for  introducing  two  or  three  anecdotes  respect- 
ing that  excellent  person,  which  he  has  collected  from  a  vol- 
ame  entitled  Sketches  from  Nature,  by  John  M^Diarmid,  a 
gentleman  who  conducts  an  able  provincial  paper  in  the  town 
of  Dumfries. 

Helen  was  the  daughter  of  a  small  farmer  in  a  place  called 
Dalquhairn,  in  the  parish  cf  Irongray  ;  where,  after  the  death 
of  her  father,  she  continued,  with  the  unassuming  piety  of  a 
Scottish  peasant,  to  support  her  mother  by  her  own  unremit- 
ted labor  and  privations  ;  a  case  so  common  that  even  yet,  I 
am  proud  to  say,  few  of  my  countrywomen  would  shrink  from 
the  duty. 

Helen  Walker  was  held  among  her  equals  '^pensy,"  that 
is,  proud  or  conceited  ;  but  the  facts  brought  to  prove  this 
accusation  seem  only  to  evince  a  strength  of  character  supe- 
rior to  those  around  her.  Thus  it  was  remarked,  that  when  it 
thundered,  she  went  with  her  work  and  her  Bible  to  the  front 
of  the  cottage,  alleging  that  the  Almighty  could  smite  in  the 
city  as  well  as  in  the  field. 

Mr.  M'^Diarmid  mentions  more  particularly  the  misfortune 
of  her  sister,  which  lie  supposes  to  have  taken  place  previous 
to  1736.  Helen  Walker,  declining  every  proposal  of  saving 
her  relation's  life  at  the  expense  of  truth,  borrowed  a  sum  of 
money  sufficient  for  her  journey,  walked  the  whole  distance 
to  London  barefoot,  and  made  her  way  to  John  Duke  of 
Argyle.  She  was  heard  to  say  that,  by  the  Almighty's  strength, 
she  had  been  enabled  to  meet  the  Duke  at  the  most  critical 
moment,  which,  if  lost,  would  have  caused  the  inevitable  for- 
feiture of  her  sister's  life. 

Isabella,  or  Tibby  Walker,  saved  from  the  fate  which  im- 


nv  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

pended  over  her,  was  married  by  the  person  who  had  wronged 
her  (named  Waugh),  and  lived  happily  for  great  part  of  a 
century,  uniformly  acknowledging  the  extraordinary  affec- 
tion to  which  she  owed  her  preservation. 

Helen  Walker  died  about  the  end  of  the  year  1791,  and 
her  remains  are  interred  in  the  churchyard  of  her  native  parish 
of  Irongray,  in  a  romantic  cemetery  on  the  banks  of  the  Cairn. 
That  a  character  so  distinguished  for  her  undaunted  love  of 
virtue  lived  and  died  in  poverty,  if  not  want,  serves  only  to 
show  us  how  insignificant,  in  the  sight  of  Heaven,  are  our 
principal  objects  of  ambition  upon  earth. 


TO  THE  BEST   OF   PATROJfS, 

A  PLEASED  AND   INDULGENT   READER, 

JEDEDIAH   CLEISHBOTHAM 

wishes  health,  and  increase,  and  contentment 

Courteous  Reader, 

If  ingratitude  comprehendeth  every  vice,  surely  so  foul  a 
stain  worst  of  all  beseemeth  him  whose  life  has  been  de- 
voted to  instructing  youth  in  virtue  and  in  humane  letters. 
Therefore  have  I  chosen,  in  this  prolegomenon,  to  unload 
my  burden  of  thanks  at  thy  feet,  tor  the  favor  with  which 
thou  hast  kindly  entertained  the  Tales  of  my  Landlord. 
Certes,  if  thou  hast  chuckled  over  their  facetious  and  fes- 
tivous  descriptions,  or  liast  thy  mind  filled  with  pleasure  at 
the  strange  and  pleasant  turns  of  fortune  which  they  record, 
verily,  I  have  also  simpered  when  I  beheld  a  second  story 
with  attics,  that  has  arisen  on  the  basis  of  my  small  domi- 
cile at  Gandercleugh.  the  walls  having  been  aforehand  pro- 
nounced by  Deacon  Barrow  to  be  capable  of  enduring  such 
an  elevation.  Nor  lias  it  been  without  delectation  that  I 
have  endued  a  new  coat  (snuff-brown,  and  with  metal  but- 
tons), having  all  nether  garments  corresponding  thereto. 
We  do  therefore  lie,  in  respect  of  each  other,  under  a  re- 
ciprocation of  benefits,  whereof  those  received  by  me  being 
the  most  solid,  in  respect  that  a  new  house  and  a  new  coat 
are  better  than  a  new  tale  and  an  old  song,  it  is  meet  that 
my  gratitude  should  be  expressed  with  the  louder  voice  and 
more  prepondei-ating  vehemence.  And  how  sliould  it  be  so 
expressed  ?  Certainly  not  in  words  only,  but  in  act  and 
deed.  It  is  with  this  sole  purpose,  and  disclaiming  all  in- 
tention of  purchasing  that  pendicle  or  poffle  of  land  called 
the  Carlinescroft.  lying  adjacent  to  my  garden,  and  measur- 
ingseven  acres,  three  roods,  and  four  perches,  that  I  have  com- 
mitted to  the  eyes  of  those  who  thought  well  of  the  former 
tomes,  these  four  additional  volumes*   of  the    TaUs  of  my 

*  [The   He'  rt  of  Midlothian  was  originally  published   in  four 
"oiumes.j 


xvi  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

Landlord.  Not  the  less,  if  Peter  Pra3'fort  be  minded  to  sell 
the  said  poffle,  it  is  at  his  own  choice  to  say  so ;  and,  perad- 
venture,  lie  may  meet  with  a  purchaser  ;  unless,  gentle  Eeader, 
the  pleasing  pourtraictures  of  Peter  Pattieson,  now  given  unto 
thee  in  particular,  and  unto  the  public  in  general,  shall  have 
lost  their  favor  in  thine  eyes,  whereof  I  am  no  way  distrust- 
ful. And  so  much  confidence  do  I  repose  in  thy  continued 
favor,  that,  should  thy  lawful  occasions  call  thee  to  the  town 
of  Gandercleugh,  a  place  frequented  by  most  at  one  time  or 
other  in  their  lives,  I  will  enrich  thine  eyes  with  a  sight  of 
those  precious  manuscripts  whence  thou  hast  derived  so  much 
delectation,  thy  nose  with  a  snuff  from  my  mull,  and  thy 
palate  with  a  dram  from  my  bottle  of  strong  waters,  called  by 
the  learned  of  Gandercleugh  the  Dominie's  Dribble  o'  Drink. 
It  is  there,  0  highly  esteemed  and  beloved  Eeader^  thou 
wilt  be  able  to  bear  testimony,  through  the  medium  of  thine 
own  senses,  against  the  children  of  vanit}^  who  have  sought 
to  identify  thy  friend  and  servant  with  I  know  not  what 
inditer  of  vain  fables ;  who  hath  cumbered  the  world  with 
his  devices,  but  shrunken  from  the  responsibility  thereof. 
Truly,  this  hath  been  well  termed  a  generation  hard  of  faith; 
since  what  can  a.  man  do  to  assert  his  property  in  a  printed 
tome,  saving  to  put  his  name  in  the  title-page  thereof,  with 
his  description,  or  designation,  as  the  lawyers  term  it,  and 
place  of  abode  ?  Of  a  surety  I  would  have  such  sceptics  con- 
sidf.r  how  they  themselves  would  brook  to  have  their  works 
ascribed  to  others^  their  names  and  professions  imputed  as 
"torgyries,  nnd  their  very  existence  brought  into  question  ; 
*iven  although,  peradventure,  it  may  be  it  is  of  little  conse- 
quence to  any  but  themselves,  not  only  whether  they  are  liv- 
ing or  dead,  but  even  whether  they  ever  lived  or  no.  Yet  have 
my  maligners  carried  their  uncharitable  censures  still  farther. 
These  cavillers  have  not  only  doubted  mine  identity,  although 
thus  plainly  proved,  but  they  have  impeached  my  veracity 
and  the  authenticity  of  my  historical  narratives  !  Verily,  I 
can  only  say  in  answer,  that  I  have  been  cautelous  in  quoting 
mine  authorities.  It  is  true,  indeed,  that  if  I  had  hearkened 
with  only  one  ear,  I  might  have  rehearsed  my  tale  with  more 
acceptation  from  those  who  love  to  hear  but  half  the  truth. 
It  is,  it  may  hap,  not  altogether  to  the  discredit  of  our  kindly 
nation  of  Scotland,  tb^t  we  are  apt  to  take  an  interest,  warm, 
yea  partial,  in  the  deeds  and  sentiments  of  our  forefathers. 
He  whom  his  adversaries  describe  as  a  perjured  Prelatist,  is 
desirous  that  his  predecessors  should  be  held  moderate  in 
their  power,  and  just  in  their  execution  of  its  privileges,  when. 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  xvii 

truly,  the  tinimpassioned  peruser  of  the  annals  of  those  times 
shall  deem  them  sanguinary,  violent,  and  tyrannical. 

Again,  the  representatives  of  the  suffering  nonconform- 
ists desire  that  their  ancestors,  the  Cameronians,  shall  be  rep- 
resented not  simply  as  honest  enthusiasts,  oppressed  for  con- 
science' sake,  but  persons  of  fine  breeding,  and  valiant  heroes. 
Truly,  the  historian  cannot  gratify  these  predilections.  He 
must  needs  describe  the  Cavaliers  as  proud  and  high-spirited, 
cruel,  remorseless,  and  vindictive  ;  the  suffering  party  as  hon- 
orably tenacious  of  their  opinions  under  persecution,  their  own 
tempers  being,  however,  sullen,  fierce,  and  rude,  their  opin- 
ions absurd  and  extravagant,  and  their  whole  course  of  conduct 
that  of  persons  whom  hellebore  would  better  have  suited  than 
prosecutions  unto  death  for  high  treason.  Natheless,  while 
such  and  so  preposterous  were  the  opinions  on  either  side, 
there  were,  it  cannot  be  doubted,  men  of  virtue  and  worth  on 
both,  to  entitle  either  party  to  claim  merit  from  its  martyrs. 
It  has  been  demanded  of  me,  Jedediah  Cleishbotham,  by  what 
right  I  am  entitled  to  constitute  myself  an  impartial  judge  of 
their  discrepancies  of  opinions,  seeing  (as  it  is  stated)  that  I 
must  necessarily  have  descended  from  one  or  other  of  the  con- 
tending parties,  and  be,  of  course,  wedded  for  better  or  for 
worse,  according  to  the  reasonable  practice  of  Scotla'nd,  to  its 
dogmata,  or  opinions,  and  bound,  as  it  were,  by  the  tie  matri- 
monial, or,  to  speak  without  metaphor,  ex  jure  sanguinis,  to 
maintain  them  in  preference  to  all  others. 

But,  nothing  denying  the  rationality  of  the  rule,  which  calls 
on  all  now  living  to  rule  their  political  and  religious  opinions  by 
those  of  their  great-grandfathers,  and  inevitable  as  seems  the 
one  or  the  other  horn  of  the  dilemma  betwixt  which  my  adver- 
saries conceive  they  have  pinned  me  to  the  wall,  I  yet  spy  some 
means  of  refuge,  and  claim  a  privilege  to  write  and  speak  of 
both  parties  with  impartiality.  For,  0  ye  powers  of  logic  ! 
when  the  Prelatists  and  Presbyterians  of  old  times  went  together 
by  the  ears  in  this  unlucky  country,  my  ancestor — venerated  be 
his  memory  ! — was  one  of  the  people  called  Quakers,*  and  suf- 
fered severe  handling  from  either  side,  even  to  the  extenua- 
tion of  his  purse  and  the  incarceration  of  his  person. 

Craving  thy  pardon,  gentle  Keader,  for  these  few  words 
concerning  me  and  mine,  I  rest,  as  above  expressed,  thy  sure 
and  obligated  friend,  J.  Q 

Ganderoleugh,  this  1st  of  April,  1818. 

*  See  Sir  Walter  Scott's  Relations  with  the  Quakers.    Note  •i. 


IHE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN 


CHAPTEE I 

BEING  INTKODUCTORT 

So  down  thy  hill,  romantic  Ashbourn,  glides 
The  Derby  dilly,  carrying  six  insides. 

Frere. 

The  times  have  changed  in  nothing  more — we  follow  as  we 
were  wont  the  manuscript  of  Peter  Pattieson — than  in  the 
rapid  conveyance  of  intelligence  and  communication  betwixt 
one  part  of  Scotland  and  another.  It  is  not  above  twenty  or 
thirty  years,  according  to  the  evidence  of  many  credible  wit- 
nesses now  alive,  since  a  little  miserable  horse-cart,  perform- 
ing with  difficulty  a  journey  of  thirty  miles  per  diem,  carried 
our  mails  from  the  capital  of  Scotland  to  its  extremity.  Nor 
was  Scotland  much  more  deficient  in  these  accommodations 
than  our  richer  sister  had  been  about  eighty  years  before. 
Fielding,  in  his  Tom  Jones,  and  Farquhar,  in  a  little  farce 
called  the  Stage-Coach,  have  ridiculed  the  slowness  of  these 
vehicles  of  public  accommodation.  According  to  the  latter 
authority,  the  highest  bribe  could  only  induce  the  coachman 
to  promise  to  anticipate  by  half  an  hour  the  usual  time  of  his 
arrival  at  the  Bull  and  Mouth. 

But  in  both  countries  these  ancient,  slow,  and  sure  modes 
of  conveyance  are  now  alike  unknown:  mail-coach  races 
against  mail-coach,  and  high-flier  against  high-flier,  through 
the  most  remote  districts  of  Britain.  And  in  our  village 
alone,  three  post-coaches,  and  four  coaches  with  men  armed, 
and  in  scarlet  cassocks,  thunder  through  the  streets  each  day, 
and  rival  in  brilliancy  and  noise  the  invention  of  the  cele- 
brated tyrant : 

Demens,  qui  nimbos  et  non  imitabile  fulmen, 
^re  et  cornipedum  pulsu,  simularat,  equorum. 

Kow  and  then,  to  complete  the  resemblance,  and  to  cor- 
rect the  presumption  of  the  venturous  charioteers,  it  does 


2  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

happen  that  the  career  of  these  dashing  rivals  of  Salmonens 
meets  with  as  undesirable  and  violent  a  termination  as  that 
of  their  prototype.  It  is  on  such  occasions  that  the  "  insides" 
and  "outsides,"  to  use  the  appropriate  vehicular  phrases, 
have  reason  to  rue  the  exchange  of  the  slow  and  safe  motion 
of  the  ancient  fly-coaches,  which,  compared  with  the  chariots 
of  Mr.  Palmer,  so  ill  deserve  the  name.  The  ancient  veliicle 
used  to  settle  quietly  down,  like  a  shijD  scuttled  and^  left  to 
sink  by  the  gradual  influx  of  the  waters,  while  the  modern  is 
smashed  to  pieces  with  the  velocity  of  the  same  vessel  hurled 
against  breakers,  or  rather  with  the  fury  of  a  bomb  bursting 
at  the  conclusion  of  its  career  through  the  air.  The  late  in- 
genious Mr.  Pennant,  whose  humor  it  was  to  set  his  face  in 
stern  opposition  to  these  speedy  conveyances,  had  collected, 
I  have  heard,  a  formidable  list  of  such  casualties,  which, 
joined  to  the  imposition  of  innkeepers,  whose  charges  the 
passengers  had  no  time  to  dispute,  the  sauciness  of  the  coach- 
man, and  the  uncontrolled  and  despotic  authority  of  the  ty- 
rant called  the  guard,  held  forth  a  picture  of  horror,  to  which 
murder,  theft,  fraud,  and  peculation  lent  all  their  dark  color- 
ing. But  that  which  gratifies  the  impatience  of  the  human 
disposition  will  be  practised  in  the  teeth  of  danger,  and  in 
defiance  of  admonition  ;  and,  in  despite  of  the  Cambrian  an- 
tiquary, mail-coaches  not  only  roll  their  thunders  round  the 
base  of  Penmen- Maur  and  Cader-Edris,  but 

Frighted  Skiddaw  hears  afar 
The  rattling  of  the  unscythed  car. 

And  perhaps  the  echoes  of  Ben  Nevis  may  soon  be  awakened 
by  the  bugle,  not  of  a  warlike  chieftain,  but  of  the  guard  of  a 
mail-coach. 

It  was  a  fine  summer  day,  and  our  little  school  had  ob- 
tained a  half-holiday,  by  the  intercession  of  a  good-humored 
visitor.*  I  expected  by  the  coach  a  new  number  of  an  inter- 
esting periodical  publication,  and  walked  forward  on  the  high- 
way to  meet  it,  with  the  impatience  which  Cowper  has  de- 
scribed as  actuating  the  resident  m  the  country  when  longing 
for  intelligence  from  the  mart  of  news  : 

The  grand  debate. 
The  popular  harangue,  the  tart  reply, 
The  logic,  and  the  wisdom,  and  tlie  wit, 
And  the  loud  laugh, — I  long  to  know  them  all ; 
I  burn  to  set  the  imprison'd  wranglers  free, 
And  give  thena  voice  and  utterance  again. 

*  His  honor  Gilbert  Goslinn  of  Gandercleugh  ;  for  I  love  to  be  precise  in  mat- 
ters of  importance.— J.  C. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  3 

It  was  with  such  feelings  that  I  eyed  the  approach  of  the 
new  coach,  lately  established  on  onr  road,  and  known  by  the 
name  of  the  Somerset,  which,  to  say  truth,  possesses  some  in- 
terest for  me,  even  when  it  conveys  no  such  important  infor- 
mation. The  distant  tremulous  sound  of  its  wheels  was  heard 
just  as  I  gained  tlie  summit  of  the  gentle  ascent,  called  the 
Goslin  brae,  from  which  you  command  an  extensive  view  down 
the  valley  of  the  river  Gander.  The  public  road,  which  comes 
up  the  side  of  that  stream,  and  crosses  it  at  a  bridge  about  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  place  where  I  was  standing,  runs  part- 
ly through  enclosures  and  plantations,  and  partly  through  open 
pasture  land.  It  is  a  childish  amusement  perhaps — but  my  life 
has  been  spent  with  children,  and  why  should  not  my  pleasures 
be  like  theirs  ? — childish  as  it  is,  then,  I  must  own  I  have  had 
great  pleasure  in  watching  the  approach  of  the  carriage,  where 
the  openings  of  the  road  permit  it  to  be  seen.  The  gay  glan- 
cing of  the  equipage,  its  diminished  and  toy-like  appearance  at 
a  distance,  contrasted  with  the  rapidity  of  its  motion,  its  ap- 
pearance and  disappearance  at  intervals,  and  the  progressively 
increasing  sounds  that  announce  its  nearer  approach,  have  all 
to  the  idle  and  listless  spectator,  who  has  nothing  more  im- 
portant to  attend  to,  something  of  awakening  interest.  The 
ridicule  may  attach  to  me,  which  is  flung  upon  many  an  honest 
citizen,  wlio  watches  from  the  window  of  his  villa  the  passage  of 
the  stage-coach  ;  but  it  is  a  very  natural  source  of  amusement 
notwithstanding,  and  many  of  those  who  join  in  the  laugh 
are  perhaps  not  unused  to  resort  to  it  in  secret. 

On  the  present  occasion,  however,  fate  had  decreed  that  I 
should  not  enjoy  the  consummation  of  the  amusement  by  seeing 
the  coach  rattle  past  me  as  I  sat  on  the  turf,  and  hearing  the 
hoarse  grating  voice  of  the  guard  as  he  skimmed  forth  for  my 
grasp  the  expected  packet,  without  the  carriage  checking  its 
course  for  an  instant.  I  had  seen  the  vehicle  thunder  down 
the  hill  that  leads  to  the  bridge  with  more  than  its  usual  im- 
petuosity, glittering  all  the  while  by  flashes  from  a  cloudy 
tabernacle  of  the  dust  which  it  had  raised,  and  leaving  a  train 
behind  it  on  the  road  resembling  a  wreath  of  summer  mist. 
But  it  did  not  appear  on  the  top  of  the  nearer  bank  within  the 
usual  space  of  three  minutes,  which  frequent  observation  had 
enabled  me  to  ascertain  was  the  medium  time  for  crossing  the 
bridge  and  mountiiag  the  ascent.  When  double  that  space 
had  elapsed,  I  became  alarmed,  and  walked  hastily  forward. 
As  I  came  in  sight  of  the  bridge,  the  cause  of  delay  was  too 
manifest,  for  the  Somerset  had  made  a  summerset  in  good 
earnest;  and  overturned  so  completely,  that  it  was  literally 


4  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

resting  upon  tlie  ground,  with  the  roof  undermost,  and  the 
four  wheels  iu  the  air.  The  "  exertions  of  the  guard  and  coach- 
man," both  of  whom  were  gratefully  commemorated  in  the 
newspapers,  having  succeeded  in  disentangling  the  horses  by- 
cutting  tlie  harness,  were  now  proceeding  to  extricate  the  "  in- 
sides  "  by  a  sort  of  summary  and  Caesarean  process  of  delivery, 
forcing  the  hinges  from  one  of  the  doors  which  they  could  not 
open  otherwise.  In  this  manner  were  two  disconsolate  damsels 
set  at  liberty  from  the  womb  of  the  leathern  conveniency.  As 
they  immediately  began  to  settle  their  clothes,  which  were  a 
little  deranged,  as  ma}  be  presumed,  I  concluded  they  had  re- 
ceived no  injury,  and  did  not  venture  to  obtrude  my  services 
at  their  toilet,  for  which,  I  understand,  I  have  since  been 
reflected  upon  by  the  fair  sufferers.  The  "outsides,"  who 
must  have  been  discharged  from  their  elevated  situation  by  a 
shock  resembling  the  springing  of  a  mine,  escaped,  neverthe- 
less, with  the  usual  allowance  of  scratches  and  bruises,  except- 
ing three,  who,  having  been  pitched  into  the  river  Gander, 
were  dimly  seen  contending  with  the  tide,  like  the  relics  of 
JEneas's  shipwreck — 

Rari  apparent  nantes  in  gurgite  vasto. 

I  applied  my  poor  exertions  where  they  seemed  to  be  most 
needed,  and  with  the  assistance  of  one  or  two  of  the  company 
who  had  escaped  unhurt,  easily  succeeded  in  fishing  out  two 
of  the  unfortunate  passengers,  who  were  stout  active  young 
fellows  ;  and  but  for  the  preposterous  length  of  their  great- 
coats, and  the  equally  fashionable  latitude  and  longitude  of 
their  Wellington  trousers,  would  have  required  little  assist- 
ance from  any  one.  *  The  third  was  sickly  and  elderly,  and 
might  have  perished  but  for  the  efforts  used  to  preserve  him. 

When  the  two  greatcoated  gentlemen  had  extricated  them- 
selves from  the  river,  and  shaken  their  ears  like  huge  water- 
dogs,  a  violent  altercation  ensued  betwixt  them  and  the  coach- 
man and  guard,  concerning  the  cause  of  their  overthrow.  In 
the  course  of  the  squabble,  I  observed  that  both  my  new  ac- 
quaintances belonged  to  the  law,  and  that  their  professional 
snarpness  was  likely  to  prove  an  overmatch  for  the  surly  and 
official  tone  of  the  guardians  of  the  vehicle.  The  dispute 
ended  in  the  guard  assuring  the  passengers  that  they  should 
have  seats  in  a  heavy  coach  which  would  pass  that  spot  in  less 
than  half  a  hour,  providing  it  were  not  full.  Chance  seemed 
to  favor  this  arrangement,  for  when  the  expected  vehicle  ar- 
rived, there  were  only  two  places  occupied  in  a  carriage  which 
professed  to  carry  six.     The  two  ladies  who  had  been  disin 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  6 

terred  out  of  the  fallen  vehicle  were  readily  admitted,  but 
jiositive  objections  were  stated  by  those  previously  in  posses- 
sion to  the  admittance  of  the  two  lawyers,  whose  wetted  gar- 
ments being  much  of  the  nature  of  well-soaked  sponges,  there 
was  every  reason  to  believe  they  would  refund  a  considerable 
part  of  the  water  they  had  collected,  to  the  inconvenience  of 
tlieir  fellow-passengers.  On  the  other  hand,  the  lawyers  re- 
jected a  seat  on  the  roof,  alleging  that  they  had  only  taken 
that  station  for  pleasure  for  one  stage,  but  were  entitled  in 
all  respects  to  free  egress  and  regress  from  the  interior,  to 
which  their  contract  positively  referred.  After  some  alter- 
cation, in  which  something  was  said  upon  the  edict  Naut(B, 
caupones,  stabularii,  the  coach  went  off,  leaving  the  learned 
gentlemen  to  abide  by  their  action  of  damages. 

They  immediately  applied  to  me  to  guide  them  to  the  next 
village  and  the  best  inn  ;  and  from  the  account  I  gave  them 
of  the  Wallace  Head,  declared  they  were  much  better  pleased 
to  stop  there  than  to  go  forward  upon  the  terms  of  that  im- 
pudent scoundrel  the  guard  of  the  Somerset.  All  that  they 
now  wanted  was  a  lad  to  carry  their  travelling  bags,  who  was 
easily  procured  from  an  adjoining  cottage  ;  and  they  prepared 
to  walk  forward,  when  they  found  there  was  another  passenger 
in  the  same  deserted  situation  with  themselves.  This  was  the 
elderly  and  sickly-looking  person  who  had  been  precipitated 
into  the  river  along  with  the  two  young  lawyers.  He,  it  seems, 
had  been  too  modest  to  push  his  own  plea  against  the  coach- 
man wlien  he  saw  that  of  his  betters  rejected,  and  now  re- 
mained behind  with  a  look  of  timid  anxiety,  plainly  intimat- 
ing that  he  was  deficient  in  those  means  of  recommendation 
which  are  necessary  passports  to  the  hospitality  of  an  inn. 

I  ventured  to  call  the  attention  of  the  two  dashing  young 
blades,  for  such  they  seemed,  to  the  desolate  condition  of  their 
fellow-traveller.     They  took  the  hint  with  ready  good-nature. 

"  0,  true,  Mr.  Dunover,^' said  one  of  the  youngsters,  "you 
must  not  remain  on  the  pave  here  ;  you  must  go  and  have 
some  dinner  with  us  ;  Halkit  and  I  must  have  a  post-chaise 
to  go  on,  at  all  events,  and  we  will  set  you  down  wherever 
suits  you  best." 

The  poor  man,  for  such  his  dress,  as  well  as  his  diffidence, 
bespoke  him,  made  the  sort  of  acknowledging  bow  by  which 
says  a  Scotchman,  "  It's  too  much  honor  for  the  like  of  me  ;" 
and  followed  humbly  behind  his  gay  patrons,  all  three  be- 
sprinkling the  dusty  road  as  they  walked  along  with  the 
moisture  of  their  drenched  garments,  and  exhibiting  the  sin- 
gular and  somewhat  ridiculous  appearance  of  three  persons 


6  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

suffering  from  the  opposite  extreme  of  humidity,  while  the 
summer  sun  was  at  its  height,  and  everything  else  around 
them  had  the  expression  of  heat  and  drought.  The  ridicule 
did  not  escape  the  young  gentlemen  themselves,  and  they  had 
made  what  miglit  be  received  as  one  or  two  tolerable  jests  on 
the  subject  before  they  had  advanced  far  on  their  peregri- 
nation. 

"  We  cannot  complain,  like  Cowley,"  said  one  of  them, 
'"  that  Gideon's  fleece  remains  dry,  while  all  around  is  moist ; 
this  is  the  reverse  of  the  miracle. ''' 

"  We  ought  to  be  received  with  gratitude  in  this  good 
town  ;  we  bring  a  supply  of  what  they  seem  to  need  most," 
said  Halkit. 

"  And  distribute  it  with  unparalleled  generosity,"  replied 
his  companion  ;  "performing  the  part  of  three  water-carts 
for  the  benefit  of  their  dusty  roads." 

"We  come  before  them,  too,"  said  Halkit,  "in  full  pro- 
fessional force — counsel  and  agent " 

"And  client,"  said  the  young  advocate,  looking  behind 
him.  And  then  added,  lowering  his  voice,  "that  looks  as  if 
he  had  kej)t  such  dangerous  company  too  long." 

Lt  was,  indeed,  too  true,  that  the  humble  follower  of  the 
gay  young  men  had  the  tlireadbare  appearance  of  a  worn-out 
litigant,  and  I  could  not  but  smile  at  the  conceit,  though 
anxious  to  conceal  my  mirth  from  the  object  of  it. 

When  we  arrived  at  the  Wallace  Inn,  the  elder  of  the  Edin- 
burgh gentlemen,  and  whom  I  understood  to  be  a  barrister, 
insisted  that  I  should  remain  and  take  part  of  their  dinner : 
and  their  inquiries  and  demands  speedily  put  my  Landlord  and 
his  whole  family  in  motion  to  produce  the  best  cheer  which 
the  larder  and  cellar  afforded,  and  proceed  to  cook  it  to  the 
best  advantage,  a  science  in  which  our  entertainers  seemed  to 
be  admirably  skilled.  In  other  respects  they  were  lively  young 
men,  in  the  heyday  of  youth  and  good  spirits,  playing  the  part 
which  is  common  to  the  higher  classes  of  the  law  at  Edin- 
burgh, and  which  nearly  resembles  that  of  the  young  Tem- 
plars in  the  days  of  Steele  and  Addison.  An  air  of  giddy 
gayety  mingled  with  the  good  sense,  taste,  and  information 
which  their  conversation  exhibited  ;  and  it  seemed  to  be  their 
object  to  unite  the  character  of  men  of  fashion  and  lovers  of 
the  polite  arts.  A  fine  gentleman,  bred  up  in  the  thorough 
idleness  and  inanity  of  pursuit  which  I  understand  is  abso- 
lutely necessary  to  the  character  in  perfection,  might  in  all 
probability  have  traced  a  tinge  of  professional  pedantry  which 
marked  the  barrister  in  spite  of  his  efforts,  and  something  of 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  7 

active  bustle  in  his  companion,  and  would  certainly  have  de- 
tected more  than  a  fashionable  mixture  of  information  and 
animated  interest  in  the  language  of  both.  But  to  me,  who 
had  no  pretensions  to  be  so  critical,  my  companions  seemed  to 
form  a  very  happy  mixture  of  good-breeding  and  liberal  in- 
formation, with  a  disposition  to  lively  rattle,  pun,  and  jest, 
amusing  to  a  grave  man,  because  it  is  what  he  himself  can 
least  easily  command. 

The  thin  pale-faced  man,  whom  their  good-nature  had 
brought  into  their  society,  looked  out  of  place,  as  well  as  out 
of  spirits,  sat  on  the  edge  of  his  seat,  and  kept  the  chair  at 
two  feet  distance  from  the  table,  thus  iiicommoding  himself 
considerably  in  conveying  the  victuals  to  his  mouth,  as  if  by 
way  of  penance  for  partaking  of  them  in  the  company  of  his 
superiors.  A  short  time  after  dinner,  declining  all  entreaty 
to  partake  of  the  wine,  which  circulated  freely  round,  he  in- 
formed himself  of  the  hour  when  the  chaise  had  been  ordered 
to  attend  ;  and  saying  he  would  be  in  readiness,  modestly 
withdrew  from  the  aj)artment. 

"  Jack,"  said  the  barrister  to  his  companion,  "  I  remember 
that  poor  fellow's  face  ;  you  spoke  more  truly  than  you  were 
aware  of ;  he  really  is  one  of  my  clients,  jDoor  man."'' 

"  Poor  man  !  "  echoed  Halkit.  "  I  suppose  you  mean  he 
is  your  one  and  only  client  ?  " 

"  That's  not  my  fault.  Jack,"  replied  the  other,  whose 
name  I  discovered  was  Hardie.  "  You  are  to  give  me  all  your 
business,  you  know  ;  and  if  you  have  none,  the  learned  gentle- 
man here  knows  nothing  can  come  of  nothing." 

"■  You  seem  to  have  brought  something  to  nothing,  though, 
in  the  case  of  that  honest  man.  He  looks  as  if  he  were 
just  about  to  honor  with  his  residence  the  Heaet  of  Mid- 

LOTHIAlSr." 

"You  are  mistaken:  he  is  just  delivered  from  it.  Our 
friend  here  looks  for  an  explanation.  Pray,  Mr.  Pattieson, 
have  you  been  in  Edinburgh  ?" 

I  answered  in  the  affirmative. 

"  Then  you  must  have  passed,  occasionally  at  least,  though 
probably  not  so  faithfully  as  I  am  doomed  to  do,  through  a 
narrow  intricate  passage,  leading  out  of  the  north-west  corner 
of  the  Parliament  Square,  and  passing  by  a  high  and  antique 
building,  with  turrets  and  iron  grates, 

"  Making  good  the  saying  odd, 
Near  the  church  and  far  from  God " 

Mr.  Halkit  broke  in  upon  his  learned  counsel  to  contrib- 


8  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

nte  his  moiety  to  the  riddle — ''Having  at  the  door  the  sign 
of  the  Red  Man " 

"  And  being  on  the  whole/'  resumed  the  counsellor,  inter- 
rupting his  friend  in  his  turn,  ''a  sort  of  place  where  misfor- 
tune is  happily  confounded  with  guilt,  where  all  who  are  'n 
wish  to  get  out " 

"  And  where  none  who  have  the  good  luck  to  be  out  wish 
to  get  in,"  added  his  companion. 

*'  I  conceive  you,  gentlemen,"  replied  I :  "  you  mean  the 
prison." 

"The  prison,"  added  the  young  lawyer.  "You  have  hit 
it — the  very  reverend  tolbooth  itself ;  and  let  me  tell  you, 
you  are  obliged  to  us  for  describing  it  with  so  much  modesty 
and  brevity  ;  for  with  whatever  amplifications  we  might  have 
chosen  to  decorate  the  subject,  you  lay  entirely  at  our  mercy, 
since  the  Fathers  Conscript  of  our  city  have  decreed  that  the 
venerable  edifice  itself  shall  not  remain  in  existence  to  confirm 
or  to  confute  us." 

"  Then  the  tolbooth  of  Edinburgh  is  called  the  Heart  of 
Midlothian?"  said  I. 

"  So  termed  and  reputed,  I  assure  you." 

"  I  think,"  said  I,  with  the  bashful  diffidence  with  which 
a  man  lets  slip  a  pun  in  presence  of  his  superiors,  "  the  met- 
ropolitan county  may,  in  that  case,  be  said  to  have  a  sad 
heart." 

"  Right  as  my  glove,  Mr.  Pattieson,"  added  Mr.  Hardie ; 
"  and  a  close  heart,  and  a  hard  heart.     Keep  it  up.  Jack." 

*'  And  a  wicked  heart,  and  a  poor  heart,"  answered  Hal- 
kit,  doing  his  best. 

''  And  yet  it  may  be  called  in  some  sort  a  strong  heart, 
and  a  high  heart,"  rejoined  the  advocate.  "  You  see  I  can 
put  you  both  out  of  heart." 

"I  have  played  all  my  hearts,"  said  the  younger  gen- 
tleman. 

"  Then  we'll  have  another  lead,"  answered  his  companion. 
"  And  as  to  the  old  and  condemned  tolbooth,  what  pity  the 
same  honor  cannot  be  done  to  it  as  has  been  done  to  many  of 
its  inmates.  Why  should  not  the  tolbooth  have  its  "  Last 
Speech,  Confession,  and  Dying  Words  ? "  The  old  stones 
would  be  just  as  conscious  of  the  lienor  as  many  a  poor  devil 
who  has  dangled  like  a  tassel  at  the  west  end  of  it,  while  the 
hawkers  were  shouting  a  confession  the  culprit  had  never 
heard  of." 

"  I  am  afraid,"  said  I,  "if  I  might  presume  to  ^ive  my 
opinion,  it  would  be  a  tale  of  unvaried  sorrow  and  guilt." 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  9 

''Not  entirely,  my  friend/'  said  Hardie  ;  "a  prison  is  a 
world  within  itself,  and  has  its  own  business,  griefs,  and  joys, 
peculiar  to  its  circle.  Its  inmates  are  sometimes  short-lived, 
but  so  are  soldiers  on  service  ;  they  are  poor  relatively  to  the 
world  without,  but  there  are  degrees  of  wealth  and  poverty 
among  them,  and  so  some  are  relatively  rich  also.  They  can- 
not stir  abroad,  but  neither  can  the  garrison  of  a  besieged 
fort,  nor  the  crew  of  a  ship  at  sea ;  and  they  are  not  under  a 
dispensation  quite  so  desperate  as  either,  for  they  may  have 
as  much  food  as  they  have  money  to  buy,  and  are  not  obliged 
to  work  whether  they  have  food  or  not." 

"  But  what  variety  of  incident,"  said  I,  not  without  a  secret 
view  to  my  present  task,  "  could  possibly  be  derived  from  such 
a  work  as  you  are  pleased  to  talk  of  ?  " 

"  Infinite,"  replied  the  young  advocate.  "  Whatever  of 
guilt,  crime,  imposture,  folly,  unheard-of  misfortunes,  and 
unlooked-for  change  of  fortune,  can  be  found  to  ciiecker  life, 
my  Last  Speech  of  the  Tolbooth  should  illustrate  with  ex- 
amples sufficient  to  gorge  even  the  public's  all-devouring  ap- 
petite for  the  wonderful  and  horrible.  The  inventor  of  fic- 
titious narratives  has  to  rack  his  brains  for  means  to  diversify 
his  tale,  and  after  all  can  hardly  hit  upon  characters  or  inci- 
dents which  have  not  been  used  again  and  again,  until  they 
are  familiar  to  the  eye  of  the  reader,  so  that  the  develop- 
ment, enlevement,  the  desperate  wound  of  which  the  hero 
never  dies,  the  burning  fever  from  which  the  heroine  is  sure 
to  recover,  become  a  mere  matter  of  course.  I  join  with  my 
honest  friend  Crabbe,  and  have  an  unlucky  propensity  to 
hope  when  hope  is  lost,  and  to  rely  upon  the  cork-jacket, 
which  carries  the  heroes  of  romance  safe  through  all  the  bil- 
lows of  affliction."  He  then  declaimed  the  following  passage, 
rather  with  too  much  than  too  little  emphasis  : 

Much  have  I  fear'd,  but  am  no  more  afraid, 

When  some  chaste  beauty,  by  some  wretch  betray'd. 

Is  drawn  away  with  such  distracted  speed. 

That  she  anticipates  a  dreadful  deed. 

Not  so  do  I.     Let  soUd  walls  impound 

The  captive  fair,  and  dig  a  moat  around  ; 

Let  there  be  brazen  locks  and  bars  of  steel, 

And  keepers  cruel,  such  as  never  feel  ; 

With  not  a  single  note  the  purse  supply, 

And  when  she  begs,  let  men  and  maids  deny  ; 

Be  windows  those  from  which  she  dares  not  fall 

And  help  so  distant,  'tis  in  vain  to  call  ; 

Still  means  of  freedom  will  some  Power  devi$e, 

And  from  the  baffled  ruffian  snatch  his  prize. 


10  WAVEBLEY  NOVELS 

''The  end  of  uncertainty/'  he  concluded,  ''is  the  death 
of  interest ;  and  hence  it  happens  that  no  one  now  reads 
novels." 

"  Hear  him,  ye  gods  !  "  returned  his  companion.  "I  as- 
sure you,  Mr.  Pattieson,  you  will  hardly  visit  this  learned 
gentleman  but  you  are  likely  to  find  the  new  novel  most  in 
repute  lying  on  his  table — snugly  intrenched,  however,  be- 
neath Stair's  Institutes,  or  an  open  volume  of  Morison's 
Decisions." 

"  Do  I  deny  it  ?  "  said  the  hopeful  jurisconsult,  "  or  where- 
fore should  I,  since  it  is  Avell  known  these  Delilahs  seduced 
my  wisers  and  my  betters  ?  May  they  not  be  found  lurking 
amidst  the  multiplied  memorials  of  our  most  distinguished 
counsel,  and  even  peeping  from  under  the  cushion  of  a  jiidge's 
arm-chair  ?  Our  seniors  at  the  bar,  within  the  bar,  and  even 
on  the  bench,  read  novels  ;  and,  if  not  belied,  some  of  them 
have  written  novels  into  the  bargain.  I  only  say,  that  I  read 
from  habit  and  from  indolence,  not  from  real  interest ;  that, 
like  Ancient  Pistol  devouring  his  leek,  I  read  and  swear  till  I 
get  to  the  end  of  the  narrative.  But  not  so  in  the  real  records 
of  human  vagaries,  not  so  in  the  State  Trials,  oy mi\\e Books 
of  Adjournal,  where  every  now  and  then  you  read  new  pages 
of  the  human  heart,  and  turns  of  fortune  far  beyond  what  the 
boldest  novelist  ever  attempted  to  produce  from  the  coinage 
of  his  brain." 

"  And  for  such  narratives,"  I  asked,  "you  suppose  the 
history  of  the  prison  of  Edinburgh  might  afford  appropriate 
materials  ?" 

"  In  a  degree  unusually  ample,  my  dear  sir,"  said  Hardie. 
"Fill  your  glass,  however,  in  the  meanwhile.  Was  it  not  for 
many  years  the  place  in  which  the  Scottish  Parliament  met  ? 
Was  it  not  James's  place  of  refuge,  when  the  mob,  inflamed 
by  a  seditious  preacher,  broke  forth  on  him  with  the  cries  of 
'  The  sword  of  the  Lord  and  of  Gideon  ;  bring  forth  the  wicked 
Haman  ? '  Since  that  time  how  many  hearts  have  throbbed 
within  these  walls,  as  the  tolling  of  the  neighboring  bell  an- 
nounced to  them  how  fast  the  sands  of  their  life  were  ebbing ; 
how  many  must  have  sunk  at  the  sound  ;  how  many  were  sup- 
ported by  stubborn  pride  and  dogged  resolution  ;  how  many 
by  the  consolations  of  religion  ?  Have  there  not  been  some, 
who,  looking  back  on  the  motives  of  their  crimes,  were  scarce 
able  to  understand  how  they  should  have  had  such  temptation 
as  to  seduce  them  from  virtue  ?  and  have  there  not,  perhaps, 
been  others,  who,  sensible  of  their  innocence,  were  divided 
Taetween  indignation  at  the  undeserved  doom  which  they  were 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  11 

to  undergo,  consciousness  that  tliey  had  not  deserved  it,  and 
racking  anxiety  to  discover  some  way  in  which  they  might  yet 
vindicate  themselves  ?  Do  you  suppose  any  of  these  deep, 
powerful,  and  agitating  feelings  can  be  recorded  and  perused 
without  exciting  a  corresponding  depth  of  deep,  powerful, 
and  agitating  interest  ?  0  !  do  but  wait  till  I  publish  the 
causes  ceUbres  of  Caledonia,  and  you  will  find  no  want  of  a 
novel  or  a  tragedy  for  some  time  to  come.  The  true  thing 
will  triumph  over  the  brightest  inventions  of  the  most  ardent 
imagination.     Magna  est  Veritas,  et  prcevalelit." 

"1  have  understood,"  said  I,  encouraged  by  the  affability 
of  my  rattling  entertainer,  "  that  less  of  this  interest  must 
attach  to  Scottish  jurisprudence  than  to  that  of  any  other 
country.  The  general  morality  of  our  people,  their  sober  and 
prudent  habits " 

"  Secure  them,"  said  the  barrister,  "  against  any  great  in- 
crease of  professional  thieves  and  depredators,  but  not  against 
wild  and  wayward  starts  of  fancy  and  passion,  producing  crimes 
of  an  extraordinary  description,  which  are  precisely  those  to 
the  detail  of  which  we  listen  with  thrilling  interest.  England 
has  been  much  longer  a  highly  civilized  country  ;  her  subjects 
have  been  very  strictly  amenable  to  laws  administered  with- 
out fear  or  favor  ;  a  complete  division  of  labor  has  taken 
place  among  her  subjects  ;  and  the  very  thieves  and  robbers 
form  a  distinct  class  in  society,  subdivided  among  themselves 
according  to  the  subject  of  their  depredations,  and  the  mode 
in  which  they  carry  them  on,  acting  upon  regular  habits  and 
principles,  which  can  be  calculated  and  anticipated  at  Bow 
Street,  Hatton  Garden,  or  the  Old  Bailey.  Our  sister  king- 
dom is  like  a  cultivated  field  :  the  farmer  expects  that,  in 
spite  of  all  his  care,  a  certain  number  of  weeds  will  rise  with 
the  corn,  and  can  tell  you  beforehand  their  names  and  appear- 
ance. But  Scotland  is  like  one  of  her  own  Highland  glens, 
and  the  moralist  who  reads  the  records  of  her  criminal  juris- 
prudence will  find  as  many  curious  anomalous  facts  in  the  his- 
tory of  mind  as  the  botanist  will  detect  rare  specimens  among 
her  dingles  and  cliffs." 

''And  that's  all  the  good  you  have  obtained  from  three 
perusals  of  the  Commentaries  on  Scottish  Criminal  Jurispru- 
dence ?  "  said  his  companion.  "  I  suppose  the  learned  author 
very  little  thinks  that  the  facts  which  his  erudition  and  acute- 
ness  have  accumulated  for  the  illustration  of  legal  doctrines 
might  be  so  arranged  as  to  form  a  sort  of  ajipendix  to  the 
half-bound  and  slipshod  volumes  of  the  circulating  library." 

'Til   bet  you  a  pint  of  claret,"  said  the  elder  lawyer. 


12  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

"  that  he  will  not  feel  sore  at  the  comparison.  But  as  we 
say  at  the  bar,  '  I  beg  I  may  not  be  interrupted ; '  I  have 
much  more  to  say  upon  my  Scottish  collection  of  causes  cele- 
bres.  You  will  please  recollect  the  scope  and  motive  given 
for  the  contrivance  and  execution  of  many  extraordinary  and 
daring  crimes,  by  the  long  civil  dissensions  of  Scotland  ;  by 
the  hereditary  jurisdictions,  which,  until  1748,  rested  the  in- 
vestigation of  crimes  in  judges,  ignorant,  partial,  or  inter- 
ested ;  by  the  habits  of  the  gentry,  shut  up  in  their  distant 
and  solitary  mansion-houses,  nursing  their  revengeful  passions 
just  to  keep  their  blood  from  stagnating ;  not  to  mention 
that  amiable  national  qualification,  called  the  perfervidum 
ingenium  Scotorum,  which  our  lawyers  join  in  alleging  as  a 
reason  for  the  severity  of  some  of  our  enactments.  Wlien  I 
come  to  treat  of  matters  so  mysterious,  deep,  and  dangerous 
as  these  circumstances  have  given  rise  to,  the  blood  of  each 
reader  shall  be  curdled,  and  his  epidermis  crisped  into  goose- 
skin.  But,  hist !  here  comes  the  landlord,  with  tidings,  I 
suppose,  that  the  chaise  is  ready." 

It  was  ao  such  thing  :  the  tidings  bore,  that  no  chaise 
could  be  had  that  evening,  for  Sir  Peter  Plyem  had  carried 
forward  my  Landlord's  two  pair  of  horses  that  morning  to  the 
ancient  royal  borough  of  Bubbleburgh,  to  look  after  his  interest 
there.  But  as  Bubbleburgh  is  only  one  of  a  set  of  five  bor- 
oughs which  club  their  shares  for  a  member  of  Parliament, 
Sir  Peter's  adversary  had  judiciously  watched  his  departure, 
in  order  to  commence  a  canvass  in  the  no  less  royal  borough  of 
Bitem,  which,  as  all  the  world  knows,  lies  at  the  very  termina- 
tion of  Sir -Peter's  avenue,  and  has  been  held  in  leading-strings 
by  him  and  his  ancestors  for  time  immemorial.  Now,  Sir 
Peter  was  thus  placed  in  the  situation  of  an  ambitious  mon- 
arch who,  after  having  commenced  a  daring  inroad  into  his 
enemies'  territories,  is  suddenly  recalled  by  an  invasion  of  his 
own  hereditary  dominions.  He  was  obliged  in  consequence 
to  return  from  the  half-won  borough  of  Bubbleburgh  to  look 
after  the  half-lost  borough  of  Bitem,  and  the  two  pairs  of 
horses  which  had  carried  him  that  morning  to  Bubbleburgh 
were  now  forcibly  detained  to  transport  him,  his  agent,  his 
valet,  his  jester,  and  his  hard-drinker  across  the  country  to 
Bitem.  The  cause  of  this  detention,  which  to  me  was  of  as 
little  consequence  as  it  may  be  to  the  reader,  was  important 
enough  to  my  companions  to  reconcile  them  to  the  delay. 
Like  eagles,  they  smelled  the  battle  afar  off,  ordered  a  magnum 
of  claret  and  beds  at  the  Wallace,  and  entered  at  full  career 
into  the  Bubbleburgh  and  Bitem  politics,  with  all  the  probable 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  13 

"  petitions  and  complaints"  to  which  they  were  likely  to  give 
rise. 

In  the  midst  of  an  anxious,  animated,  and.  to  me,  most 
unintelliji^ible  discussion,  concerning  provosts,  bailies,  deacons, 
sets  6f  borouglis,  leets,  town  clerks,  burgesses  resident  and 
non-resident,  all  of  a  sudden  the  lawyer  recollected  himself. 
"  Poor  Dunover,  Ave  must  not  forget  him; "  and  the  landlord 
was  despatched  in  quest  of  the  jJ^'^cvre  honteiia\  with  an  earn- 
estly civil  invitation  to  him  for  the  rest  of  the  evening.  I 
could  not  lielp  asking  the  young  gentlemen  if  they  knew  the 
history  of  this  poor  man  ;  and  the  counsellor  applied  himself 
to  his  pocket  to  recover  the  memorial  or  brief  from  which  he 
had  stated  his  cause. 

"  He  has  been  a  candidate  for  our  remedhim  miserahile," 
said  Mr,  Hardie,  "  commonly  called  a  cessio  honorum.  As 
there  are  divines  who  have  doubted  the  eternity  of  future 
punishments,  so  the  Scotch  lawyers  seem  to  have  thought  that 
the  crime  of  poverty  might  be  atoned  for  by  something  short 
of  perpetual  imprisonment.  After  a  month's  confinement, 
you  must  know,  a  prisoner  for  debt  is  entitled,  on  a  sufficient 
statement  to  our  Suj^reme  Court,  setting  forth  the  amount  of 
his  funds,  and  the  nature  of  his  misfortunes,  and  surrender- 
ing all  his  effects  to  his  creditors,  to  claim  to  be  discharged 
from  prison." 

"  I  had  heard,"  I  replied,  "  of  such  a  humane  regulation.^' 

"  Yes,"  said  Halkit,  "  and  the  beauty  of  it  is,  as  the  for- 
eign fellow  said,  you  may  get  the  cessio  when  the  honoriims 
are  all  spent.  But  what,  are  you  puzzling  in  your  pockets  to 
seek  your  only  memorial  among  old  play-bills,  letters  request- 
ing a  meeting  of  the  faculty,  rules  of  the  Speculative  Society,* 
syllabus  of  lectures — all  the  miscellaneous  contents  of  a  young 
advocate's  pocket,  which  contains  everything  but  briefs  and 
bank-notes  ?  Can  you  not  state  a  case  of  cessio  without  your 
memorial  ?  Why,  it  is  done  every  Saturday.  The  events 
follow  each  other  as  regularly  as  clockwork,  and  one  form  of 
condescendence  might  suit  every  one  of  them." 

"This  is  very  unlike  the  variety  of  distress  which  this 
gentleman  stated  to  fall  under  the  consideration  of  your 
judges,"  said  I. 

"True,"  replied  Halkit ;  "but  Hardie  spoke  of  criminal 
jurisprudence,  and  this  business  is  purely  civil.  I  could  plead 
a  cessio  myself  without  the  inspiring  honors  of  a  gown  and 
three-tailed  periwig.  Listen.  My  client  was  bred  a  journey- 
man weaver — made  some  little  money — took  a  farm — (for  con- 

*  A  well-known  debating  club  in  Edinburgh  (^Laing). 


14  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

ducting  a  farm,  like  driving  a  gig,  comes  by  nature) — late 
severe  times — induced  to  sign  bills  for  a  friend,  for  which  he 
received  no  value — landlord  sequestrates — creditors  accept  a 
composition — pursuer  sets  up  a  public-house — fails  a  second 
time — is  incarcerated  for  a  debt  of  ten  pounds,  seven  shillings 
and  sixpence — his  debts  amount  to  blank — his  losses  to  blank 
— his  funds  to  blank — leaving  a  balance  of  blank  in  his  favor. 
There  is  no  opposition  ;  your  lordships  will  please  grant  com- 
mission to  take  his  oath." 

Hardie  now  renounced  his  ineffectual  search,  in  which 
there  was  perhaps  a  little  affectation,  and  told  us  the  tale  of 
poor  Danover's  distresses,  with  a  tone  in  which  a  degree  of 
feeling,  which  he  seemed  ashamed  of  as  unprofessional, 
mingled  with  his  attempts  at  wit,  and  did  him  more  honor. 
It  was  one  of  those  tales  which  seem  to  argue  a  sort  of  ill-luck 
or  fatality  attached  to  the  hero.  A  well-informed,  industrious, 
and  blameless,  but  poor  and  bashful,  man  had  in  vain  essayed 
all  the  usual  means  by  which  others  acquire  independence, 
yet  had  never  succeeded  beyond  the  attainment  of  bare  sub- 
sistence. During  a  brief  gleam  of  hope,  rather  than  of  actual 
prosperity,  he  had  added  a  wife  and  family  to  his  cares,  but 
the  dawn  was  speedily  overcast.  Everything  retrograded  with 
him  towards  the  verge  of  the  miry  Slough  of  Despond,  which 
yawns  for  insolvent  debtors ;  and  after  catching  at  each  twig, 
and  experiencing  the  protracted  agony  of  feeling  them  one  by 
one  elude  his  grasp,  he  actually  sunk  into  the  miry  pit  whence 
he  had  been  extricated  by  the  professional  exertions  of 
Hardie. 

'^  And,  I  suppose,  now  you  have  dragged  this  poor  devil 
ashore,  you  will  leave  him  half  naked  on  the  beach  to  provide 
for  himself?"  said  Halkit.  "Hark  ye,"  and  he  whispered 
something  in  his  ear,  of  which  the  penetrating  and  insinuat- 
ing words,  "Interest  with  my  lord,"  alone  reached  mine. 

"It  is jyessimi  exempli,"  said  Hardie,  laughing,  "to  pro- 
vide for  a  ruined  client ;  but  I  was  thinking  of  what  you 
mention,  provided  it  can  be  managed.  But  hush  !  here  he 
comes." 

The  recent  relation  of  the  poor  man's  misfortunes  had 
given  him,  I  was  pleased  to  observe,  a  claim  to  the  attention 
and  respect  of  the  young  men,  who  treated  him  with  great 
civility,  and  gradually  engaged  him  in  a  conversation  which, 
much  to  my  satisfaction,  again  turned  upon  the  causes  cele- 
hres  of  Scotland.  Emboldened  by  the  kindness  with  which 
he  was  treated,  Mr.  Diinover  began  to  contribute  his  share 
to  the  amusement  of  the  evening.     Jails,  like  other  places. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  16 

have  their  ancient  traditions,  known  only  to  the  inhabitants, 
and  handed  down  from  one  set  of  the  melancholy  lodgers  to 
the  next  who  occupy  their  cells.  Some  of  these,  which  Dun- 
oVer  mentioned,  were  interesting,  and  served  to  illustrate  the 
narratives  of  remarkable  trials  which  Hardie  had  at  his  finger- 
ends,  and  Avhich  his  companion  was  also  well  skilled  in.  This 
sort  of  conversation  passed  away  the  evening  till  the  early 
hour  when  Mr.  Dunover  chose  to  retire  to  rest,  and  I  also  re- 
treated to  take  down  memorandums  of  what  I  had  learned, 
in  order  to  add  another  narrative  to  those  which  it  had  been 
my  chief  amusement  to  collect,  and  to  write  out  in  detail. 
The  two  young  men  ordered  a  broiled  bone,  Madeira  negus, 
and  a  pack  of  cards,  and  commenced  a  game  at  picquet. 

Next  morning  the  travellers  left  Gandercleugh.  I  after- 
Avards  learned  from  the  papers  that  both  have  been  since  en- 
gaged in  the  great  political  cause  of  Bubbleburgh  and  Bitem, 
a  summary  case,  and  entitled  to  particular  despatch  ;  but 
which,  it  is  thought,  nevertheless,  may  outlast  the  duration 
of  the  parliament  to  whicli  the  contest  refers.  Mr.  Halkit, 
as  the  newspapers  informed  me,  acts  as  agent  or  solicitor  ; 
and  Mr.  Hardie  opened  for  Sir  Peter  Plyem  Avith  singular 
ability,  and  to  such  good  purpose,  that  I  understand  he  has 
since  had  fewer  play-bills  and  more  briefs  in  his  pocket.  And 
both  the  young  gentlemen  deserve  their  good  fortune  ;  for  I 
learned  from  Dunover,  who  called  on  me  some  weeks  after- 
wards, and  communicated  the  intelligence  with  tears  in  his 
eyes,  that  their  interest  had  availed  to  obtain  him  a  small 
office  for  the  decent  maintenance  of  his  family  ;  and  that, 
after  a  train  of  constant  and  uninterrupted  misfortune,  he 
could  trace  a  dawn  of  prosperity  to  his  having  the  good  for- 
tune to  be  flung  from  the  top  of  a  mail-coach  into  the  river 
Gander,  in  company  with  an  advocate  and  a  writer  to  the 
signet.  The  reader  will  not  perhaps  deem  himself  equally 
obliged  to  the  accident,  since  it  brings  upon  him  the  follow- 
ing narrative,  founded  upon  the  conversation  of  the  evening. 


CHAPTER  II 

Whoe'er's  been  at  Paris  must  needs  know  the  Gr^re, 
The  fatal  retreat  of  the  unfortunate  brave, 
Where  honor  and  justice  most  oddly  contribute, 
To  ease  heroes'  pains  by  an  halter  and  gibbet. 

There  death  breaks  the  shackles  which  force  had  put  on, 
And  the  hangman  completes  what  the  judge  but  began  ; 
There  the  squire  of  the  pad,  and  knight  of  the  post, 
Find  their  pains  no  more  baulk'd,  and  their  hopes  no  more  cross'd. 

Prior. 

In  former  times,  England  had  her  Tyburn,  to  which  the  de- 
voted victims  of  justice  were  conducted  in  solemn  procession 
up  what  is  now  called  Oxford  Road.  In  Edinburgh,  a  large 
open  street,  or  rather  oblong  square,  surrounded  by  high 
houses,  called  the  Grassmarket,  was  used  for  the  same  melan- 
choly purpose.  Ic  was  not  ill  chosen  for  such  a  scene,  being 
of  considerable  extent,  and  therefore  fit  to  accommodate  a  great 
number  of  spectators,  such  as  are  usually  assembled  by  this 
melancholy  spectacle.  On  the  other  hand,  few  of  the  houses 
which  surround  it  were,  even  in  early  times,  inhabited  by 
persons  of  fashion  ;  so  that  those  likely  to  be  offended  or  over 
deeply  affected  by  such  unpleasant  exhibitions  were  not  in  the 
way  of  having  their  quiet  disturbed  by  them.  The  houses  in 
the  Grassmarket  are,  generally  speaking,  of  a  mean  descrip- 
tion ;  yet  the  place  is  not  without  some  features  of  grandeur, 
being  overhung  by  the  southern  side  of  the  huge  rock  on 
which  the  castle  stands,  and  by  the  moss-grown  battlements 
and  turreted  walls  of  that  ancient  fortress. 

It  was  the  custom,  until  within  these  thirty  years  or 
thereabouts,  to  use  this  esplanade  for  the  scene  of  public  exe- 
cutions. The  fatal  day  was  announced  to  the  public  by  the 
appearance  of  a  huge  black  gallows-tree  towards  the  eastern 
end  of  the  Grassmarket.  This  ill-omened  apparition  was  of 
great  height,  with  a  scaffold  surrounding  it,  and  a  double 
ladder  placed  against  it,  for  the  ascent  of  the  unhappy  crim- 
inal and  the  executioner.  As  this  apparatus  was  always  ar- 
ranged before  dawn,  it  seemed  as  if  the  gallows  had  grown  oat 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  17 

of  the  earth  in  the  course  of  one  night,  like  the  production  of 
some  foul  demon  ;  and  I  well  remember  the  fright  with  which 
the  sclioolboys,  when  I  was  one  of  their  number,  used  to  re- 
gard these  ominous  signs  of  deadly  preparation.  On  the  night 
after  the  execution  the  gallows  again  disappeared,  and  was 
conveyed  in  silence  and  darkness  to  the  place  where  it  was 
usually  deposited,  which  was  one  of  the  vaults  under  the 
Parliament  House,  or  courts  of  justice.  This  mode  of  execu- 
tion is  now  exchanged  for  one  similar  to  that  in  front  of  New- 
gate, witli  what  beneficial  eifect  is  uncertain.  The  mental 
sufferings  of  the  convict  are  indeed  shortened.  He  no  longer 
stalks  between  the  attendant  clergymen,  dressed  in  his  grave- 
clothes,  through  a  considerable  part  of  the  city,  looking  like 
a  moving  and  walking  corpse,  while  yet  an  inhabitant  of  this 
world  ;  but  as  the  ultimate  purpose  of  punishment  has  in 
view  the  prevention  of  crimes,  it  may  at  least  be  doubted 
whether,  in  abridging  the  melancholy  ceremony,  we  have  not 
in  part  diminished  that  appalling  effect  upon  the  spectators 
which  is  the  useful  end  of  all  such  inflictions,  and  in  consid- 
eration of  which  alone,  unless  in  very  particular  cases,  capital 
sentences  can  be  altogether  justified. 

On  the  7th  day  of  September,  1736,  these  ominous  prepar- 
ations for  execution  were  descried  in  the  place  we  have  de- 
scribed, and  at  an  early  hour  the  space  around  began  to  be 
occupied  by  several  groups,  who  gazed  on  the  scaffold  and 
gibbet  with  a  stern  and  vindictive  show  of  satisfaction  very 
seldom  testified  by  the  populace,  whose  good-nature  in  most 
cases  forgets  the  crime  of  the  condemned  person,  and  dwells 
only  on  his  misery.  But  the  act  of  which  the  expected  cul- 
prit had  been  convicted  was  of  a  description  calculated  nearly 
and  closely  to  awaken  and  irritate  the  resentful  feelings  of  the 
multitude.  The  tale  is  well  known  ;  yet  it  is  necessary  to  re- 
capitulate its  leading  circumstances,  for  the  better  under- 
standing what  is  to  follow  ;  and  the  narrative  may  prove  long, 
but  I  trust  not  uninteresting,  even  to  those  who  have  heard 
its  general  issue.  At  any  rate,  some  detail  is  necessary,  in 
order  to  render  intelligible  the  subsequent  events  of  our  nar- 
rative. 

Contraband  trade,  though  it  strikes  at  the  root  of  legiti- 
mate government,  by  encroaching  on  its  revenues  ;  though  it 
injures  the  fair  trader,  and  debauches  the  minds  of  those  en- 
gaged in  it,  is  not  usually  looked  upon,  either  by  the  vulgar 
or  by  their  betters,  in  a  very  heinous  point  of  view.  On  the 
contrary,  in  those  counties  where  it  prevails,  the  cleverest, 
boldest,  and  most  intelligent  of  the  peasantry  are  uniformly 


18  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

engaged  in  illicit  transactions,  and  very  often  with  the  sanc- 
tion of  the  farmers  and  inferior  gentry.  Smuggling  was  al- 
most universal  in  Scotland  in  the  reigns  of  George  I.  and  II. ; 
for  the  people,  unaccustomed  to  imposts,  and  regarding  them 
as  an  unjust  aggression  upon  their  ancient  liberties,  made  no 
scruple  to  elude  them  whenever  it  was  possible  to  do  so. 

The  county  of  Fife,  bounded  by  two  firths  on  the  south 
and  north,  and  by  the  sea  on  the  east,  and  having  a  number 
of  small  seaports,  was  long  famed  for  maintaining  successfully 
a  contraband  trade  ;  and  as  there  were  many  seafaring  men 
residing  there,  who  had  been  pirates  and  buccaneers  in  their 
youth,  there  were  not  wanting  a  sufficient  number  of  daring 
men  to  carry  it  on.  Among  these,  a  fellow  called  Andrew 
Wilson,  originally  a  baker  in  the  village  of  Pathhead,  was 
particularly  obnoxious  to  the  revenue  officers.  He  was  pos- 
sessed of  great  personal  strength,  courage,  and  cunning,  was 
perfectly  acquainted  with  the  coast,  and  capable  of  conducting 
the  most  desperate  enterprises.  On  several  occasions  he  suc- 
ceeded in  baffling  the  pursuit  and  researches  of  the  king's 
officers  ;  but  he  became  so  much  the  object  of  their  suspicions 
and  watchful  attention  that  at  length  he  was  totally  ruined 
by  repeated  seizures.  The  man  became  desperate.  He  con- 
sidered himself  as  robbed  and  plundered,  and  took  it  into  his 
head  that  he  had  a  right  to  make  reprisals,  as  he  could  find 
opportunity.  Where  the  heart  is  prepared  for  evil,  oppor- 
tunity is  seldom  long  wanting.  This  Wilson  learned  that  the 
collector  of  the  customs  at  Kirkcaldy  had  come  to  Pitten- 
weem,  in  the  course  of  his  official  round  of  duty,  with  a  con- 
siderable sum  of  public  money  in  his  custody.  As  the  amount 
was  greatly  within  the  value  of  the  goods  which  had  been 
seized  from  him,  Wilson  felt  no  scruple  of  conscience  in 
resolving  to  reimburse  himself  for  his  losses  at  the  expense 
of  the  collector  and  the  revenue.  He  associated  with  himself 
one  Robertson  and  two  other  idle  young  men,  whom,  having 
been  concerned  in  the  same  illicit  trade,  he  persuaded  to  view 
the  transaction  in  the  same  justifiable  light  in  which  he  himself 
considered  it.  They  watched  the  motions  of  the  collector ; 
they  broke  forcibly  into  the  house  where  he  lodged,  Wilson, 
with  two  of  his  associates,  entering  the  collector's  apartment, 
while  Robertson,  the  fourth,  kept  watch  at  the  door  with  a 
drawn  cutlass  in  his  hand.  The  officer  of  the  customs,  con- 
ceiving his  life  in  danger,  escaped  out  of  his  bedroom  window, 
and  fled  in  his  shirt,  so  that  the  plunderers,  with  much  ease, 
possessed  themselves  of  about  two  hundred  pounds  of  public 
money.     This  robbery  was  <^^mmitted   in  a  very  audacious 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  19 

manner,  for  several  persons  were  passing  in  the  street  at  the 
time.  But  Robertson,  representing  the  noise  they  heard  as  a 
dispute  or  fray  betwixt  the  collector  and  the  people  of  the 
house,  the  worthy  citizens  of  Pittenweem  felt  themselves  no 
way  called  on  to  interfere  in  behalf  of  the  obnoxious  revenue 
officer ;  so,  satisfying  themselves  with  this  very  superficial 
account  of  the  matter,  like  the  Levite  in  the  parable,  they 
passed  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  way.  An  alarm  was  at 
length  given,  military  were  called  in,  the  depredators  were 
pursued,  the  booty  recovered,  and  Wilson  and  Robertson  tried 
and  condemned  to  death,  chiefly  on  the  evidence  of  an  ac- 
complice. 

Many  thought  that,  in  consideration  of  the  men's  errone- 
ous opinion  of  the  nature  of  the  action  they  had  committed, 
justice  might  have  been  satisfied  with  a  less  forfeiture  than 
that  of  two  lives.  On  the  other  hand,  from  the  audacity  of 
the  fact,  a  severe  example  was  judged  necessary  ;  and  such 
was  the  opinion  of  the  government.  When  it  became  appa- 
rent that  the  sentence  of  death  was  to  be  executed,  files,  and 
other  implements  necessary  for  their  escape,  were  transmitted 
secretly  to  the  culprits  by  a  friend  from  without.  By  these 
means  they  sawed  a  bar  out  of  one  of  the  prison  windows,  and 
might  have  made  their  escape,  but  for  the  obstinacy  of  Wilson, 
who,  as  he  was  daringly  resolute,  was  doggedly  pertinacious 
of  his  opinion.  His  comrade,  Robertson,  a  young  and  slender 
man,  proposed  to  make  the  experiment  of  passing  the  foremost 
through  the  gap  they  had  made,  and  enlarging  it  from  the 
outside,  if  necessary,  to  allow  Wilson  free  passage.  Wilson, 
however,  insisted  on  making  the  first  experiment,  and  being 
a  robust  and  lusty  man,  he  not  only  found  it  impossible  to 
get  through  betwixt  the  bars,  but,  by  his  struggles,  he  jammed 
himself  so  fast  that  he  was  unable  to  draw  his  body  back 
again.  In  these  circumstances  discovery  became  unavoidable  ; 
and  sufficient  precautions  were  taken  by  the  jailer  to  prevent 
any  repetition  of  the  same  attempt.  Robertson  uttered  not  a 
word  of  reflection  on  his  companion  for  the  consequences  of  his 
obstinacy  ;  but  it  appeared  from  the  sequel  that  Wilson's 
mind  was  deeply  impressed  with  the  recollection  that,  but  for 
him,  his  comrade,  over  whose  mind  he  exercised  considerable 
influence,  would  not  have  engaged  in  the  criminal  enterprise 
which  had  terminated  thus  fatally  ;  and  that  now  he  had  be- 
come his  destroyer  a  second  time,  since,  but  for  his  obstinacy, 
Robertson  might  have  effected  his  escape.  Minds  like  Wilson's, 
even  when  exercised  in  evil  practices,  sometimes  retain  the 
power  of  thinking  and  resolving  with  enthusiastic  generosity. 


30  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

His  whole  thoughts  were  now  bent  on  the  possibility  of  sav- 
ing Eobertson's  life,  without  the  least  respect  to  his  own. 
The  resolution  which  he  adopted,  and  the  manner  in  which 
he  carried  it  into  effect,  were  striking  and  unusual. 

Adjacent  to  the  tolbooth  or  city  jail  of  Edinburgh  is  one  of 
^hree  churches  into  which  the  cathedral  of  St.  Giles  is  now 
divided,  called,  from  its  vicinity,  the  Tolbooth  Church.  It 
was  the  custom  that  criminals  under  sentence  of  death  were 
brought  to  this  church,  with  a  sufficient  guard,  to  hear  and  join 
in  public  worshijj  on  the  Sabbath  before  execution.  It  was 
supposed  that  the  hearts  of  these  unfortunate  persons,  however 
hardened  before  against  feelings  of  devotion,  could  not  but  be 
accessible  to  them  upon  uniting  their  thoughts  and  voices,  for 
the  last  time,  along  with  their  fellow-mortals,  in  addressing 
their  Creator.  And  to  the  rest  of  the  congregation  it  was 
thought  it  could  not  but  be  impressive  and  affecting  to  find 
their  devotions  mingling  with  those  who,  sent  by  the  doom  of 
an  earthly  tribunal  to  appear  where  the  whole  earth  is  judged, 
might  be  considered  as  beings  trembling  on  the  verge  of  eter- 
nity. The  practice,  however  edifying,  has  been  discontinued, 
in  consequence  of  the  incident  we  are  about  to  detail. 

The  clergyman  whose  duty  it  was  to  officiate  in  the  Tol- 
booth Church  had  concluded  an  affecting  discourse,  part  of 
which  was  particularly  directed  to  the  unfortunate  men,  Wilson 
and  Robertson,  who  were  in  the  pew  set  apart  for  the  persons 
in  their  unhappy  situation,  each  secured  betwixt  two  soldiers 
of  the  City  Gruard.  The  clergyman  had  reminded  them  that 
the  next  congregation  they  must  join  would  be  that  of  the  just 
or  of  the  unjust ;  that  the  psalms  they  now  heard  must  be  ex- 
changed, in  the  space  of  two  brief  days,  for  eternal  halle- 
lujahs or  eternal  lamentations  ;  and  that  this  fearful  alternative 
must  depend  upon  the  state  to  which  they  might  be  able  to 
bring  their  minds  before  the  moment  of  awful  preparation  ;  that 
they  should  not  despair  on  account  of  the  suddenness  of  the 
summons,  but  rather  to  feel  this  comfort  in  their  misery,  that, 
though  all  who  now  lifted  the  voice,  or  bent  the  knee,  in  con- 
junction with  them  lay  under  the  same  sentence  of  certain 
death,  they  only  had  the  advantage  of  knowing  the  precise 
moment  at  which  it  should  be  executed  upon  them.  "  There- 
fore," urged  the  good  man,  his  voice  trembling  with  emotion, 
''redeem  the  time,  my  unhappy  brethren,  which  is  yet  left ; 
and  remember  that,  with  the  grace  of  Him  to  whom  space  and 
time  are  but  as  nothing,  salvation  may  yet  be  assured,  even 
in  the  pittance  of  delay  which  the  laws  of  your  country  afford 
yon/' 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  21 

Robertson  was  observed  to  weep  at  these  words  ;  but  Wil- 
son seemed  as  one  whose  brain  had  not  entirely  received  their 
meaning,  or  whose  thoughts  were  deej)ly  impressed  with  some 
different  subject ;  an  expression  so  natural  to  a  person  in  his 
situation  that  it  excited  neither  suspicion  nor  surprise. 

The  benediction  was  pronounced  as  usual,  and  the  con- 
gregation was  dismissed,  many  lingering  to  indulge  their 
curiosity  with  a  more  fixed  look  at  the  two  criminals,  who 
now,  as  well  as  their  guards,  rose  up,  as  if  to  depart  when  the 
crowd  should  permit  them.  A  murmur  of  compassion  was 
heard  to  pervade  the  spectators,  the  more  general,  perhaps, 
on  account  of  the  alleviating  circumstances  of  the  case  ;  when 
all  at  once,  Wilson,  who,  as  we  have  already  noticed,  was  a 
very  strong  man,  seized  two  of  the  soldiers,  one  with  each 
hand,  and  calling  at  the  same  time  to  his  companion,  "  Run, 
Geordie,  run  ! "  threw  himself  on  a  third,  and  fastened  his 
teeth  on  the  collar  of  his  coat.  Robertson  stood  for  a  second 
as  if  thunderstruck,  and  unable  to  avail  himself  of  the  ojo- 
portunity  of  escape;  but  the  cry  of  "Run,  run  \"  being 
echoed  from  many  around,  whose  feelings  surprised  them 
into  a  very  natural  interest  in  his  behalf,  he  shook  off  the 
grasp  of  the  remaining  soldier,  threw  himself  over  the  pew, 
mixed  with  the  dispersing  congregation,  none  of  whom  felt 
inclined  to  stop  a  poor  wretch  taking  this  last  chance  for 
his  life,  gained  the  door  of  the  church,  and  was  lost  to  all 
pursuit. 

The  generous  intrepidity  which  Wilson  had  displayed  on 
this  occasion  augmented  the  feeling  of  compassion  which  at- 
tended his  fate.  The  public,  where  their  own  prejudices 
are  not  concerned  being  easily  engaged  on  the  side  of  disin- 
terestedness and  humanity,  admired  Wilson's  behavior,  and 
rejoiced  in  Robertson's  escape.  This  general  feeling  was  so 
great  that  it  excited  a  vague  report  that  Wilson  would  be 
rescued  at  the  place  of  execution,  either  by  the  mob  or  by 
some  of  his  old  associates,  or  by  some  second  extraordinary 
and  unexpected  exertion  of  strength  and  courage  on  his  own 
part.  The  magistrates  thought  it  their  duty  to  provide 
against  the  possibility  of  disturbance.  They  ordered  out, 
for  protection  of  the  execution  of  the  sentence,  the  greater 
part  of  their  own  City  Guard,  under  the  command  of  Captain 
Forteous,  a  man  whose  name  became  too  memorable  from 
the  melancholy  circumstances  of  the  day  and  subsequent 
events.  It  may  be  necessary  to  say  a  word  about  this  person 
and  the  corps  which  he  commanded.  But  the  subject  is  of 
importance  sufficient  to  deserve  another  chapter. 


CHAPTER  III 

And  thou,  great  god  of  aqua-vitae  ! 
Wha  sways  the  empire  of  this  city, 
(When  fou  we're  sometimes  capernoity), 

Be  thou  prepared, 
To  save  us  frae  that  black  banditti, 

The  City  Guard ! 

Ferguson's  Daft  Dayt. 

Captain  John"  Poeteous,  a  name  memorable  in  the  traditions 
of  Edinburgh,  as  well  as  in  the  records  of  criminal  jurispru- 
dence, was  the  sou  of  a  citizen  of  Edinburgh,  who  endeavored 
to  breed  him  up  to  his  own  mechanical  trade  of  a  tailor.  The 
youth,  however,  had  a  wild  and  irreclaimable  propensity  to  dis- 
sipation, which  finally  sent  him  to  serve  in  the  corps  long  main- 
rained  in  the  service  of  the  States  of  Holland,  and  called  the 
Scotch  Dutch.  Here  he  learned  military  discipline  ;  and  re- 
turning afterwards,  in  the  course  of  an  idle  and  wandering  life, 
to  his  native  city,  his  services  were  required  by  the  magistrates 
of  Edinburgh,  in  the  disturbed  year  1715,  for  disciplining  their 
City  Gruard,  in  which  he  shortly  afterwards  received  a  captain's 
commission.  It  was  only  by  his  military  skill,  and  an  alert  and 
resolute  character  as  an  officer  of  j)olice,  that  he  merited  this 
promotion,  for  he  is  said  to  have  been  a  man  of  profligate 
habits,  an  unnatural  son,  and  a  brutal  husband.  He  was, 
however,  useful  in  his  station,  and  his  harsh  and  fierce  habits 
rendered  him  formidable  to  rioters  or  disturbers  of  the  public 
peace. 

The  corps  in  which  he  held  his  command  is,  or  perhaps  we 
should  rather  say  toas,  a  body  of  about  one  hundred  and  twenty 
soldiers,  divided  into  three  companies,  and  regularly  armed, 
clothed,  and  embodied.  They  were  chiefly  veterans  who  en- 
listed in  this  corps,  having  the  benefit  of  working  at  their 
trades  when  they  were  off  duty.  These  men  had  the  charge 
of  preserving  public  order,  repressing  riots  and  street  robber- 
ies, acting,  in  short,  as  an  armed  police,  and  attending  on  all 
public  occasions  where  confusion  or  popular  disturbance 
might  be  expected.*     Poor    Ferguson,  Avhose  irregularities 

*  See  Edinburgh  City  Guard.    Note  3. 

m 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  23 

somtimes  led  him  into  unpleasant  rencontres  with  these  mili- 
tary conservators  of  public  order,  and  who  mentions  them 
so  often  that  he  may  be  termed  their  poet  laureate,  thus  ad- 
monishes his  readers,  warned  doubtless  by  his  own  experi- 
ence : 

Gude  folk,  as  ye  come  frae  the  fair, 
Bide  yont  frae  this  black  squad  ; 
There's  nae  sic  savages  elsewhere 
AUow'd  to  wear  cockad. 

In  fact,  the  soldiers  of  the  City  Guard,  being,  as  we  have 
said,  in  general  discharged  veterans,  who  had  strength  enough 
remaining  for  this  municipal  duty,  and  being,  moreover,  for 
the  greater  part,  Highlanders,  were  neither  by  birth,  educa- 
tion, nor  former  habits  trained  to  endure  with  much  patience 
the  insults  of  the  rabble,  or  the  provoking  petulance  of  truant 
schoolboys,  and  idle  debauchees  of  all  descriptions,  with  whom 
their  occupation  brought  them  into  contact.  On  the  con- 
trary, the  tempers  of  the  poor  old  fellows  were  soured  by  the 
indignities  with  which  the  mob  distinguished  them  on  many 
occasions,  and  frequently  might  have  required  the  soothing 
strains  of  the  poet  we  have  just  quoted — 

O  soldiers !  for  your  ain  dear  sakes, 
For  Scotland's  love,  the  Land  o'  Cakes, 
Gie  not  her  bairns  sic  deadly  paiks, 

Nor  be  sae  rude, 
Wi'  firelock  or  Lochaber  axe, 

As  spill  their  bluid  ! 

On  all  occasions  when  a  holiday  licensed  some  riot  and  ir- 
regularity, a  skirmish  with  these  veterans  was  a  favorite  recrea- 
tion with  the  rabble  of  Edinburgh.  These  pages  may  perhaps 
see  the  light  when  many  have  in  fresh  recollection  such  onsets 
as  we  allude  to.  But  the  venerable  corps  with  whom  the  con- 
tention was  held  may  now  be  considered  as  totally  extinct. 
Of  late  the  gradual  diminution  of  these  civic  soldiers  reminds 
one  of  the  abatement  of  King  Lear's  hundred  knights.  The 
edicts  of  each  succeeding  set  of  magistrates  have,  like  those  of 
Goneril  and  Regan,  diminished  this  venerable  band  with  the 
similar  question,  "'  What  need  we  five  and  twenty  ? — ten  ? — 
or  five  ?  "  And  it  is  now  nearly  come  to,  "What  need  one  ?  " 
A  spectre  may  indeed  here  and  there  still  be  seen,  of  an  old  gray- 
headed  and  gray-bearded  Highlander,  with  war-worn  features, 
but  bent  double  by  age  ;  dressed  in  an  old-fashioned  cocked 
hat,  bound  with  white  tape  instead  of  silver  lace,  and  in  coat, 
waistcoat,  and  breeche.*  of  a  muddy-colored  red,  bearing  in 


94  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

his  withered  hand  an  ancient  weapon,  called  a  Lochaber  axe, 
a  lon^  pole,  namely,  with  an  axe  at  tlie  extremity  and  a  hook 
at  the  back  of  the  liatchet.*  Such  a  phantom  of  former  days 
still  creeps,  I  have  been  informed,  round  the  statue  of  Charles 
the  Second,  in  the  Parliament  Square,  as  if  the  image  of  a 
Stuart  were  the  last  refuge  for  any  memorial  of  our  ancient 
manners  ;  and  one  or  two  others  are  supposed  to  glide  around 
the  door  of  the  guard-liouse  assigned  to  them  in  the  Lucken- 
booths  when  their  ancient  refuge  in  the  High  Street  was  laid 
low.  f  Bat  the  fate  of  manuscripts  bequeathed  to  friends  and 
executors  is  so  uncertain,  that  the  narrative  containing  these 
frail  memorials  of  the  old  Town  Guard  of  Edinburgh,  Avho, 
with  their  grim  and  valiant  corjjoral,  Jolm  Dim,  the  fiercest- 
looking  fellow  I  ever  saw,  were,  in  my  boyhood,  the  alternate 
terror  and  derision  of  the  petulant  brood  of  the  High  School, 
may,  perhaps,  only  come  to  light  when  all  memory  of  the  in- 
stitution has  faded  away,  and  then  serve  as  an  illustration  of 
Kay's  caricatures,  who  has  preserved  the  features  of  some  of 
their  heroes.  In  the  preceding  generation,  when  there  was  a 
perpetual  alarm  for  the  plots  and  activity  of  the  Jacobites, 
some  pains  were  taken  by  the  magistrates  of  Edinburgh  to 
keep  this  corps,  thougli  composed  always  of  such  materials  as 
we  have  noticed,  in  a  more  effective  state  than  was  afterwards 
judged  ]iecessary,  when  their  most  dangerous  service  was  to 
skirmish  with  the  rabble  on  tlie  king's  birthday.  They  were, 
therefore,  more  the  objects  of  hatred,  and  less  that  of  scorn, 
than  tliey  were  afterwards  accounted. 

To  Captain  John  Porteous  the  honor  of  his  command  and 
of  his  corps  seems  to  have  been  a  matter  of  high  interest  and 
importance.  He  was  exceedingly  incensed  against  Wilson  for 
the  affront  which  he  construed  him  to  have  put  upon  his  sol- 
diers, in  the  effort  he  made  for  the  liberation  of  his  compan- 
ion, and  expressed  himself  most  ardently  on  the  subject.  He 
was  no  less  indignant  at  the  report  tliat  there  was  an  inten- 
tion to  rescue  Wilson  himself  from  the  gallows,  and  uttered 
many  threats  and  imprecations  upon  that  subject,  which  were 
afterwards  remembered  to  his  disadvantage.  In  fact,  if  a  good 
deal  of  determination  and  promptitude  rendered  Porteous,  in 
one  respect,  fit  to  command  guards  designed  to  suppress  pop- 
ular commotion,  he  seems,  on  the  other,  to  have  been  disqual- 
ified for  a  charge  so  delicate  by  a  hot  and  surly  temper,  always 
too  ready  to  come  to  blows  and  violence,  a  character  void  of 

*  This  hook  was  to  enable  the  bearer  of  the  Lochaber  axe  to  scale  a  gateway,  by 
grappling  the  top  of  the  door  and  swinging  himself  up  by  the  staff  of  his  weapon, 
t  See  Last  March  of  the  City  Ouard.    Note  4. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAJ^  2t 

principle,  and  a  disposition  to  regard  the  rabble,  who  seldom 
failed  to  regale  him  and  his  soldiers  with  some  marks  of  their 
displeasure,  as  declared  enemies,  upon  whom  it  was  natural 
and  justifiable  that  he  should  seek  opportunities  of  vengeance. 
Being,  however,  the  most  active  and  trustworthy  among  the 
captains  of  the  City  Guard,  he  was  the  person  to  whom  the 
magistrates  confided  the  command  of  the  soldiers  appointed 
to  keep  the  peace  at  the  time  of  Wilson's  execution.  He  was 
ordered  to  guard  the  gallows  and  scaffold,  with  about  eighty 
men,  all  the  disposable  force  that  could  be  spared  for  that  duty. 
But  the  magistrates  took  further  precautious,  which  af- 
fected Porteous's  pride  very  deeply.  They  requested  the  as- 
sistance of  part  of  a  regular  infantry  regiment,  not  to  attend 
upon  the  execution,  but  to  remain  drawn  up  on  the  principal 
street  of  the  city,  during  the  time  that  it  went  forward,  in 
order  to  intimidate  the  multitude,  in  case  they  should  be  dis- 
posed to  be  unruly,  with  a  display  of  force  which  could  not 
be  resisted  without  desjieration.  It  may  sound  ridiculous  in 
our  ears,  considering  the  fallen  state  of  this  ancient  civic 
corps,  that  its  officer  should  have  felt  punctiliously  jealous  of 
its  honor.  Yet  so  it  was.  Captain  Porteous  resented  as  an 
indignity  the  introducing  the  Welsh  Fusileers  within  the  city, 
and  drawing  them  up  in  the  street  where  no  drums  but  his  own 
were  allowed  to  be  sounded  without  the  special  command  or 
permission  of  the  magistrates.  As  he  could  not  show  his  ill- 
numor  to  his  patrons  the  magistrates,  it  increased  his  in- 
dignation and  his  desire  to  be  revenged  on  the  unfortunate 
criminal  Wilson,  and  all  who  favored  him.  These  internal 
emotions  of  jealousy  and  rage  wrought  a  change  on  the  man's 
mien  and  bearing,  visible  to  all  who  saw  him  on  the  fatal 
morning  when  Wilson  was  appointed  to  suffer.  Porteous's 
ordinary  appearance  was  rather  favorable.  He  was  about  the 
middle  size,  stout,  and  well  made,  having  a  military  air,  and 
yet  rather  a  gentle  and  mild  countenance.  His  complexion 
was  brown,  his  face  somewliat  fretted  with  the  scars  of  the 
smallpox,  liis  eyes  rather  languid  than  keen  or  fierce.  On 
the  present  occasion,  however,  it  seemed  to  those  who  saw 
him  as  if  he  were  agitated  by  some  evil  demon.  His  step  waa 
irregular,  his  voice  hollow  and  broken,  his  countenance  pale, 
his  eyes  staring  and  wild,  his  speech  imperfect  and  confused, 
and  his  whole  appearance  so  disordered  that  many  remarked 
he  seemed  to  be  "fey,"  a  Scottish  expression,  meaning  the 
state  of  those  who  are  driven  on  to  their  impending  fate  by 
the  strong  impulse  of  some  irresistible  necesBity. 


36  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

One  part  of  his  conduct  was  truly  diabolical,  if,  indeed,  it 
has  not  been  exaggerated  by  the  general  prejudice  entertained 
against  his  memory.  When  Wilson,  the  unhappy  criminal, 
was  delivered  to  him  by  the  keeper  of  the  prison,  in  order 
that  he  might  be  conducted  to  the  place  of  execution,  Por- 
teous,  not  satisfied  with  the  usual  precautions  to  prevent  es- 
cape, ordered  him  to  be  manacled.  This  might  be  justifiable 
from  the  character  and  bodily  strength  of  the  malefactor,  as 
well  as  from  the  apprehensions  so  generally  entertained  of  an 
expected  rescue.  But  the  handcuffs  which  were  produced 
being  found  too  small  for  the  wrists  of  a  man  so  big-boned  as 
Wilson,  Porteous  proceeded  with  his  own  hands,  and  by  great 
exertion  of  strength,  to  force  them  till  they  clasped  together, 
to  the  exquisite  torture  of  the  unhappy  criminal.  Wilson  re- 
monstrated against  such  barbarous  usage,  declaring  that  the 
pain  distracted  his  thoughts  from  the  subjects  of  meditation 
proper  to  his  unhappy  condition. 

"It  signifies  little,"  replied  Captain  Porteous  ;  "  your  pain 
will  be  soon  at  an  end." 

"Your  cruelty  is  great,"  answered  the  suiierer.  "You 
know  not  how  soon  you  yourself  may  have  occasion  to  ask  the 
mercy  which  you  are  now  refusing  to  a  fellow-creature.  May 
God  forgive  you  ! " 

These  words,  long  afterwards  quoted  and  remembered, 
were  all  that  passed  between  Porteous  and  his  prisoner  ;  but 
as  they  took  air  and  became  known  to  the  people,  they  greatly 
increased  the  popular  compassion  for  Wilson,  and  excited  a 
proportionate  degree  of  indignation  against  Porteous,  against 
whom,  as  strict,  and  even  violent,  in  the  discharge  of  his  un- 
popular office,  the  common  people  had  some  real,  and  many 
imaginary,  causes  of  complaint. 

When  the  painful  procession  was  completed,  and  Wilson, 
with  the  escort,  had  arrived  at  the  scaffold  in  the  Grassmar- 
ket,  there  appeared  no  signs  of  that  attempt  to  rescue  him 
which  had  occasioned  such  precautions.  The  multitude,  in 
general,  looked  on  with  deeper  interest  than  at  ordinary  ex-  ■ 
ecutions ;  and  there  might  be  seen  on  the  countenances  of 
many  a  stern  and  indignant  expression,  like  that  with  which 
the  ancient  Cameronians  might  be  supposed  to  witness  the 
execution  of  their  brethren,  who  glorified  the  Covenant  on 
the  same  occasion,  and  at  the  same  spot.  But  there  was  no 
attempt  at  violence.  Wilson  himself  seemed  disposed  to  hasten 
over  the  space  that  divided  time  from  eternity.  The  devo- 
tions proper  and  usual  on  such  occasions  were  no  sooner  fin- 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  27 

ished  than  he  submitted  to  his  fate,  and  the  sentence  of  the 
law  was  fulfilled. 

He  had  been  suspended  on  the  gibbet  so  long  as  to  be  totally 
deprived  of  life,  when  at  once,  as  if  occasioned  by  some  newly 
received  impulse,  there  arose  a  tumult  among  the  multitude. 
Many  stones  were  thrown  at  Porteous  and  his  guards ;  some 
mischief  was  done  ;  and  the  mob  continued  to  press  forward 
with  whoops,  shrieks,  howls,  and  exclamations.  A  young 
fellow,  with  a  sailor's  cap  slouched  over  his  face,  sprung  on 
the  scaffold  and  cut  the  rope  by  which  the  criminal  was  sus- 
pended. Others  approached  to  carry  off  the  body,  either  to 
secure  for  it  a  decent  grave,  or  to  try,  perhaps,  some  means 
of  resuscitation.  Captain  Porteous  was  wrought,  by  this  ap- 
pearance of  insurrection  against  his  authority,  into  a  rage  so 
headlong  as  made  him  forget  that,  the  sentence  having  been 
fully  executed,  it  was  his  duty  not  to  engage  in  hostilities  with 
the  misguided  multitude,  but  to  draw  off  his  men  as  fast  as 
possible.  He  sprung  from  the  scaffold,  snatched  a  musket 
from  one  of  his  soldiers,  commanded  the  party  to  give  fire,  and, 
as  several  eye-witnesses  concurred  in  swearing,  set  them  the 
example  by  discharging  his  piece  and  shooting  a  man  dead  on 
the  spot.  Several  soldiers  obeyed  his  command  or  followed 
his  example  ;  six  or  seven  persons  were  slain,  and  a  great  many 
were  hurt  and  wounded. 

After  this  act  of  violence,  the  Captain  proceeded  to  with- 
draAV  his  men  towards  their  guard-house  in  the  High  Street. 
The  mob  were  not  so  much  intimidated  as  incensed  by  what 
had  been  done.  They  pursued  the  soldiers  with  execrations, 
accompanied  by  volleys  of  stones.  As  they  pressed  on  them, 
the  rearmost  soldiers  turned  and  again  fired  with  fatal  aim 
and  execution.  It  is  not  accurately  known  whether  Porteous 
commanded  this  second  act  of  violence  ;  but  of  course  the 
odium  of  the  whole  transactions  of  the  fatal  day  attached  to 
him,  and  to  him  alone.  He  arrived  at  the  guard-house, 
dismissed  his  soldiers,  and  went  to  make  his  report  to  the 
magistrates  concerning  the  unfortunate  events  of  the  day. 

Apparently  by  this  time  Captain  Porteous  had  begun  to 
doubt  the  propriety  of  his  own  conduct,  and  the  reception  he 
met  with  from  the  magistrates  was  such  as  to  make  him  still 
more  anxious  to  gloss  it  over.  He  denied  that  he  had  given 
orders  to  fire  ;  he  denied  he  had  fired  with  his  own  hand ;  he 
even  produced  the  fusee  which  he  carried  as  an  officer  for 
examination  :  it  was  found  still  loaded.  Of  three  cartridges 
which  he  was  seen  to  put  in  his  pouch  that  morning,  two  were 
still  there  ;  a  white  handkerchief  was  thrust  into  the  muzzle 


28  ■      WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

of  the  piece,  and  returned  nnsoiled  or  blackened.  To  the 
defence  founded  on  these  circumstances  it  was  answered,  that 
Porteous  had  not  used  his  own  piece,  but  had  been  seen  to 
take  one  from  a  soldier.  Among  the  many  who  liad  been 
killed  and  wounded  by  the  unhappy  fire,  there  were  several 
of  better  rank  ;  for  even  the  humanity  of  such  soldiers  as  fired 
over  the  heads  of  the  mere  rabble  around  the  scaffold  proved 
in  some  instances  fatal  to  persons  who  were  stationed  in  win- 
dows, or  observed  the  melancholy  scene  from  a  distance. 
The  voice  of  public  indignation  was  loud  and  general ;  and, 
ere  men's  tempers  had  time  to  cool,  the  trial  of  Captain  Por- 
teous took  place  before  tlie  High  Court  of  Justiciary.  After 
a  long  and  patient  hearing,  the  jury  had  the  difficult  duty  of 
balancing  the  positive  evidence  of  many  persons,  and  those 
of  respectability,  who  deposed  positively  to  the  prisoner's 
commanding  liis  soldiers  to  fire,  and  himself  firing  his  piece, 
of  wliich  some  swore  that  they  saw  the  smoke  and  fiash,  and 
beheld  a  man  drop  at  whom  it  was  pointed,  with  the  negative 
testimony  of  others,  who,  though  well  stationed  for  seeing 
what  had  passed,  neither  heard  Porteous  give  orders  to  fire, 
nor  saw  him  fire  himself  ;  but,  on  the  contrary,  averred  that 
the  first  shot  was  fired  by  a  soldier  who  stood  close  by  him. 
A  great  part  of  his  defence  was  also  founded  on  the  turbu- 
lence of  the  mob,  which  witnesses,  according  to  their  feelings, 
their  predilections,  and  their  opportunities  of  observation, 
represented  differently  ;  some  describing  as  a  formidable  riot 
what  others  represented  as  a  trifling  disturbance,  such  as 
always  used  to  take  place  on  the  like  occasions,  when  the  ex- 
ecutioner of  the  law  and  the  men  commissioned  to  protect 
him  in  his  task  were  generally  exposed  to  some  indignities. 
The  verdict  of  the  jury  sufficiently  shows  how  the  evidence 
preponderated  in  their  minds.  It  declared  that  John  Porte- 
ous fired  a  gun  among  the  people  assembled  at  the  execution  ; 
that  he  gave  orders  to  his  soldiers  to  fire,  by  which  many  per- 
sons were  killed  and  wounded ;  but,  at  the  same  time,  that 
the  prisoner  and  his  guard  had  been  wounded  and  beaten  by 
stones  thrown  at  them  by  the  multitude.  Upon  this  verdict, 
the  Lords  of  Justiciary  passed  sentence  of  death  against  Cap- 
tain Jolm  Porteous,  adjudging  him,  in  the  common  form,  to 
be  hanged  on  a  gibbet  at  the  common  place  of  execution,  on 
Wednesday,  8th  September,  1736,  and  all  his  movable  prop- 
erty to  be  forfeited  to  the  king's  use,  according  to  the  Scot- 
tish law  in  cases  of  wilful  murder. 


CHAPTEK  IV 

The  hour's  come,  but  not  the  man.  * 

Kelpie, 

On  the  day  when  the  unhappy  Porteous  was  expected  to  suf- 
fer the  sentence  of  the  law,  the  place  of  execution,  extensive 
as  it  is,  was  crowded  almost  to  suffocation.  There  was  not  a 
window  in  all  the  lofty  tenements  around  it,  or  in  the  steep 
and  crooked  street,  called  the  Bow,  by  which  the  fatal  pro- 
cession was  to  descend  from  the  High  Street,  that  was  not 
absolutely  filled  with  spectators.  The  uncommon  height  and 
antique  appearance  of  these  houses,  some  of  which  were  for- 
merly the  property  of  the  Knights  Templars  and  the  Knights 
of  St.  John,  and  still  exhibit  on  their  fronts  and  gables  the 
iron  cross  of  these  orders,  gave  additional  effect  to  a  scene  in 
itself  so  striking.  The  area  of  the  Grassmarket  resembled  a 
huge  dark  lake  or  sea  of  human  heads,  in  the  centre  of  which 
arose  the  fatal  tree,  tall,  black,  and  ominous,  from  which 
dangled  the  deadly  halter.  Every  object  takes  interest  from 
its  uses  and  associations,  and  the  erect  beam  and  empty 
noose,  things  so  simple  in  themselves,  became,  on  such  an  oc- 
casion, objects  of  terror  and  of  solemn  interest. 

Amid  so  numerous  an  assembly  there  was  scarcely  a  word 
spoken,  save  in  whispers.  The  thirst  of  vengeance  was  in  some 
degree  allayed  by  its  supposed  certainty  ;  and  even  the  popu- 
lace, with  deeper  feeling  than  they  are  wont  to  entertain, 
suppressed  all  clamorous  exultation,  and  prepared  to  enjoy 
the  scene  of  retaliation  in  triumph,  silent  and  decent,  though 
stern  and  relentless.  It  seemed  as  if  the  depth  of  their 
hatred  to  the  unfortunate  criminal  scorned  to  display  itself  in 
anything  resembling  the  more  noisy  current  of  their  ordinary 
feelings.  Had  a  stranger  consulted  only  the  evidence  of  his 
ears,  he  might  have  supposed  that  so  vast  a  multitude  were 
assembled  for  some  purpose  whicli  affected  them  with  the 
deepest  sorrow,  and  stilled  those  noises  which,  on  all  ordinary 
occasions,  arise  from  such  a  concourse  ;  but  if  he  gazed  upon 

*  See  The  Kelpie's  Voice.    Note  5k 


30  WAVEBLEY  NOVELS 

their  faces  he  would  have  been  instantly  undeceived.  The 
compressed  lip,  the  bent  brow,  the  stern  and  flashing  eye  of 
almost  every  one  on  whom  he  looked,  conveyed  the  expression 
of  men  come  to  glut  their  sight  with  triumphant  revenge.  It 
is  probable  that  the  appearance  of  the  criminal  might  have 
somewhat  changed  the  temper  of  the  populace  in  his  favor, 
and  that  they  might  in  the  moment  of  death  have  forgiven 
the  man  against  whom  their  resentment  had  been  so  fiercely 
heated.  It  had,  however,  been  destined  that  the  mutability 
of  their  sentiments  was  not  to  be  exposed  to  this  trial. 

The  usual  hour  for  producing  the  criminal  had  been  past 
for  many  minutes,  yet  the  spectators  observed  no  symptom 
of  his  appearance.  '•  Would  they  venture  to  defraud  pub- 
lic justice  ?  "  was  the  question  which  men  began  anxiously  to 
ask  at  each  other.  The  first  answer  in  every  case  was  bold 
and  positive — "  They  dare  not."  But  when  the  point  was 
further  canvassed,  other  opinions  were  entertained,  and 
various  causes  of  doubt  were  suggested.  Porteous  had  been 
a  favorite  officer  of  the  magistracy  of  the  city,  which,  being 
a  numerous  and  fluctuaiiug  body,  requires  for  its  support  a 
degree  of  energy  in  its  functionaries  which  the  individuals 
who  compose  it  cannot  at  all  times  alike  be  supposed  to  pos- 
sess in  their  own  persons.  It  was  remembered  that  in  the  in- 
formation for  Porteous  (the  paper,  namely,  in  which  his  case 
was  stated  to  the  judges  of  the  criminal  court),  he  had  been 
described  by  his  counsel  as  tlie  person  on  whom  the  magistrates 
chiefly  relied  in  all  emergencies  of  uncommon  difficulty.  It 
was  argued,  too,  that  his  conduct,  on  the  unhappy  occasion 
of  Wilson's  execution,  was  capable  of  being  attributed  to  an 
imprudent  excess  of  zeal  in  the  execution  of  his  duty,  a  mo- 
tive for  which  those  under  wliose  authority  he  acted  might 
be  supposed  to  have  great  sympathy.  And  as  these  consider- 
ations might  move  the  magistrates  to  make  a  favorable  repre- 
sentation of  Porteous's  case,  there  were  not  wanting  others  in 
tlie  higher  departments  of  government  which  would  make 
such  suggestions  favorably  listened  to. 

The  mob  of  Edinburgh,  when  thoroughly  excited,  had 
been  at  all  times  one  of  the  fiercest  which  could  be  found  in 
Europe  ;  and  of  late  years  they  had  risen  repeatedly  against 
the  government,  and  sometimes  not  without  temporary  suc- 
cess. They  were  conscious,  therefore,  that  they  were  no 
favorites  with  the  rulers  of  the  period,  and  that,  if  Captain 
Porteous's  violence  was  not  altogether  regarded  as  good  ser- 
vice, it  might  certainly  be  thought  that  to  visit  it  with  a  cap- 
ital punishment  would  render  it  both  delicate  and  dangerous 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  31 

for  future  officers,  in  the  same  circumstances,  to  act  with 
effect  in  repressing  tumults.  There  is  also  a  natural  feeling, 
on  the  part  of  all  members  of  government,  for  the  general 
maintenance  of  authority  ;  and  it  seemed  not  unlikely  that 
what  to  the  relatives  of  the  sufferers  appeared  a  wanton  and 
unprovoked  massacre,  should  be  otherwise  viewed  in  the 
cabinet  of  St,  Jameses.  It  might  be  there  supposed  that, 
upon  the  whole  matter.  Captain  Porteous  was  in  the  exercise 
of  a  trust  delegated  to  him  by  the  lawful  civil  authority  ; 
that  he  had  been  assaulted  by  the  populace,  and  several  of 
his  men  hurt  ;  and  that,  in  finally  repelling  force  by  force,  his 
conduct  could  be  fairly  imputed  to  no  other  motive  than 
self-defence  in  the  discharge  of  his  duty. 

These  considerations,  of  themselves  very  powerful,  induced 
the  spectators  to  apprehend  the  possibility  of  a  reprieve ;  and 
to  the  various  causes  which  might  interest  the  rulers  in  his 
favor  the  lower  part  of  the  rabble  added  one  which  was  pecul- 
iarly well  adapted  to  their  comprehension.  It  was  averred, 
in  order  to  increase  the  odium  against  Porteous,  that,  while  he 
repressed  w"ith  the  utmost  severity  the  slightest  excesses  of  the 
poor,  he  not  only  overlooked  the  license  of  the  young  nobles 
and  gentry,  but  was  very  willing  to  lend  them  the  countenance 
of  his  official  authority  in  execution  of  such  loose  pranks  as  it 
was  chiefly  his  duty  to  have  restrained.  This  suspicion,  which 
was  perhaps  much  exaggerated,  made  a  deep  impression  on 
the  minds  of  the  populace  ;  and  when  several  of  the  higher 
rank  Joined  in  a  petition  recommending  Porteous  to  the  mercy 
of  the  crown,  it  was  generally  supposed  he  owed  their  favor 
not  to  any  conviction  of  the  hardship  of  his  case,  but  to  the 
fear  of  losing  a  convenient  accomplice  in  their  debaucheries. 
It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  say  how  much  this  suspicion  aug- 
mented the  people's  detestation  of  this  obnoxious  criminal,  as 
well  as  their  fear  of  his  escaping  the  sentence  pronounced 
against  him. 

While  these  arguments  were  stated  and  replied  to,  and 
canvassed  and  supported,  the  hitherto  silent  expectation  of  the 
people  became  changed  into  that  deep  and  agitating  murmur 
which  is  sent  forth  by  the  ocean  before  the  tempest  begins  to 
howl.  The  crowded  populace,  as  if  their  motions  had  corre- 
sponded with  the  unsettled  state  of  their  minds,  fluctuated  to 
and  fro  without  any  visible  cause  of  impulse,  like  the  agita- 
tion of  the  waters  called  by  sailors  the  ground-swell.  The 
news,  which  the  magistrates  had  almost  hesitated  to  com- 
municate to  them,  were  at  length  announced,  and  spread 
among  the  spectators  with  a  rapidity  like  lightning.     A  re- 


32  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

prieve  from  the  Secretary  of  State's  office,  under  the  hand 
of  his  Grace  the  Duke  of  Newcastle,  had  arrived,  intimat- 
ing the  pleasure  of  Queen  Caroline  (regent  of  the  kingdom 
during  the  absence  of  George  II.  on  the  Continent),  that 
the  execution  of  the  sentence  of  death  pronounced  against 
John  Porteous,  late  Captain-Lieutenant  of  the  City  Guard 
of  Edinburgh,  present  prisoner  in  the  tolbooth  of  that  city, 
be  respited  for  six  weeks  from  the  time  appointed  for  his 
execution. 

Tlie  assembled  spectators  of  almost  all  degrees,  whose 
minds  had  been  wound  up  to  the  pitch  which  we  have 
described,  uttered  a  groan,  or  rather  a  roar  of  indignation 
and  disappointed  revenge,  similar  to  that  of  a  tiger  from 
whom  his  meal  has  been  rent  by  his  keeper  when  he  was 
just  about  to  devour  it.  This  fierce  exclamation  seemed  to 
forebode  some  immediate  explosion  of  popular  resentment, 
and,  in  fact,  such  had  been  expected  by  the  magistrates, 
and  the  necessary  measures  had  been  taken  to  repress  it. 
But  the  shout  was  not  repeated,  nor  did  any  sudden  tumult 
ensue,  such  as  it  appeared  to  announce.  The  populace 
seemed  to  be  ashamed  of  having  expressed  their  disappoint- 
ment in  a  vain  clamor,  and  the  sound  changed,  not  into 
the  silence  which  had  preceded  the  arrival  of  these  stunning 
news,  but  into  stifled  mutterings,  which  each  group  main- 
tained among  themselves,  and  which  were  blended  into  one 
deep  and  hoarse  murmur  which  floated  above  the  assembly. 

Yet  still,  though  all  expectation  of  the  execution  was 
over  the  mob  remained  assembled,  stationary,  as  it  were, 
through  very  resentment,  gazing  on  the  preparations  for 
death,  which  had  now  been  made  in  vain,  and  stimulating  their 
feelings  by  recalling  the  various  claims  which  Wilson  might 
have  had  on  royal  mercy,  from  the  mistaken  motives  on 
which  he  acted,  as  well  as  from  the  generosity  he  had  dis- 
played towards  his  accomplice.  "  This  man,"  they  said, 
*'  the  brave,  the  resolute,  the  generous,  was  executed  to 
death  without  mercy  for  stealing  a  purse  of  gold,  which  in 
some  sense  he  might  consider  as  a  fair  reprisal ;  while  the 
profligate  satellite,  who  took  advantage  of  a  trifling  tumult, 
mseparable  from  such  occasions,  to  shed  the  blood  of  twenty 
of  his  fellow-citizens,  is  deemed  a  fitting  object  for  the 
exercise  of  the  royal  prerogative  of  mercy.  Is  this  to  be 
borne  ?  Would  our  fathers  have  borne  it  ?  Are  not  we, 
like  them,  Scotsmen  and  burghers  of  Edinburgh  ? 

The  officers  of  justice  began  now  to  remove  the  scaffold 
and  other  preparations  which  had  been  made  for  the  execu  • 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  83 

tion,  in  hopes,  by  doing  so,  to  accelerate  the  dispersion  of  the 
multitude.  The  measure  had  the  desired  effect ;  for  no 
sooner  had  the  fatal  tree  been  unfixed  from  the  large  stone 
pedestal  or  socket  in  which  it  was  secured,  and  sunk  slowly 
down  upon  the  wain  intended  to  remove  it  to  the  place  where 
it  was  usually  deiDosited,  than  the  populace,  after  giving  vent 
to  their  feelings  in  a  second  shout  of  rage  and  mortification, 
began  slowly  to  disperse  to  their  usual  abodes  and  occupa- 
tions. 

The  windows  were  in  like  manner  gradually  deserted,  and 
groups  of  the  more  decent  class  of  citizens  formed  themselves, 
as  if  waiting  to  return  homewards  when  the  streets  should  be 
cleared  of  the  rabble.  Contrary  to  what  is  frequently  the  case, 
this  description  of  persons  agreed  in  general  with  the  senti- 
ments of  their  inferiors,  and  considered  the  cause  as  common 
to  all  ranks.  Indeed,  as  we  have  already  noticed,  it  was  by 
no  means  among  the  lowest  class  of  the  spectators,  or  those 
most  likely  to  be  engaged  in  the  riot  at  Wilson's  execution, 
that  the  fatal  fire  of  Porteous's  soldiers  had  taken  effect. 
Several  persons  were  killed  who  were  looking  out  at  windows 
at  the  scene,  who  could  not  of  course  belong  to  the  rioters,  and 
were  persons  of  decent  rank  and  conditions.  The  burghers, 
therefore,  resenting  the  loss  which  had  fallen  on  their  own 
body,  and  proud  and  tenacious  of  their  rights,  as  the  citizens 
of  Edinburgh  have  at  all  times  been,  were  greatly  exasperated 
at  the  unexpected  respite  of  Captain  Porteous. 

It  was  noticed  at  the  time,  and  aftei'wards  more  particu- 
larly remembered,  that,  while  the  mob  were  in  the  act  of  dis- 
persing, several  individuals  were  seen  busily  passing  from  one 
place  and  one  group  of  people  to  another,  remaining  long  with 
none,  but  whispering  for  a  little  time  with  those  who  appeared 
to  be  declaiming  most  violently  against  the  conduct  of  govern- 
ment. These  active  agents  had  the  appearance  of  men  from 
the  country,  and  were  generally  supposed  to  be  old  friends 
and  confederates  of  Wilson,  whose  minds  were  of  course  highly 
excited  against  Porteous. 

If,  however,  it  was  the  intention  of  these  men  to  stir  the 
multitude  to  any  sudden  act  of  mutiny,  it  seemed  for  the 
time  to  be  fruitless.  The  rabble,  as  well  as  the  more  decent 
part  of  the  assembly,  dispersed,  and  went  home  peaceably  ; 
and  it  was  only  by  observing  the  moody  discontent  on  their 
brows,  or  catching  the  tenor  of  the  conversation  they  held 
witli  each  other,  that  a  stranger  could  estimate  the  state  of 
their  minds.  We  will  give  the  reader  this  advantage,  by 
associating  ourselves  with  one  of  the  numerous  groups  who 


34  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

■were  painfully  ascending  the  steep  declivity  of  the  West  Bow, 
to  return  to  their  dwellings  in  the  Lawnmarket. 

.  "An  unco  thing  this,  Mrs.  Howden,"  said  old  Peter  Plum- 
damas  to  his  neighbor  the  rouping-wif e,  or  saleswoman,  as  he 
offered  lier  his  arm  to  assist  her  in  the  toilsome  ascent,  ''to 
see  the  grit  folk  at  Lunnon  set  their  face  against  law  and 
gospel,  and  let  loose  sic  a  reprobate  as  Porteous  upon  a  peace- 
able town  ! " 

"  And  to  think  o'  the  weary  walk  they  hae  gien  us,"  an- 
swered Mrs.  Howden,  with  a  groan  ;  "  and  sic  a  comfortable 
window  as  I  had  gotten,  too,  just  within  a  pennystane  cast  of 
the  scaffold — I  could  hae  heard  every  word  the  minister  said 
— and  to  pay  twal  pennies  for  my  stand,  and  a'  for  nae- 
thing ! " 

"  I  am  Judging,"  said  Mr.  Plumdamas,  "  that  this  reprieve 
wadna  stand  gude  in  the  auld  Scots  law,  when  the  kingdom 
was  a  kingdom." 

"  I  dinna  ken  muckle  about  the  law,"  answered  Mrs. 
Howden  ;  "  but  I  ken,  when  we  had  a  king,  and  a  chancellor, 
and  parliament  men  o'  our  ain,  we  could  aye  peeble  them  wi' 
stanes  when  they  werena  gude  bairns.  But  naebody's  nails 
can  reach  the  length  o'  Lunnon." 

"  Weary  on  Lunnon,  and  &'  that  e'er  came  out  o't !  "  said 
Miss  G-rizel  Damahoy,  an  ancient  seamstress  ;  "  they  hae  taen 
awa'  our  parliament,  and  they  hae  oppressed  our  trade.  Our 
gentles  will  hardly  allow  that  a  Scots  needle  can  sew  ruffles 
on  a  sark,  or  lace  on  an  owerlay." 

"  Ye  may  say  that.  Miss  Damahoy,  and  I  ken  o'  them  that 
hae  gotten  raisins  frae  Lunnon  by  forpits  at  ance,"  responded 
Plumdamas  ;  "  and  then  sic  an  host  of  idle  English  gangers 
and  excisemen  as  hae  come  down  to  vex  and  torment  us,  that 
an  honest  man  canna  fetch  sae  muckle  as  a  bit  anker  o' 
brandy  frae  Leith  to  the  Lawnmarket,  but  he's  like  to  be 
rubbit  o'  the  very  gudes  he's  bought  and  paid  for.  Weel,  I 
winna  justify  Andrew  Wilson  for  pitting  hands  on  what  wasna 
his  ;  but  if  he  took  nae  mair  than  his  ain,  there's  an  awfu' 
difference  between  that  and  the  fact  this  man  stands  for." 

"  If  ye  speak  about  the  law,"  said  Mrs.  Howden,  "here 
comes  Mr.  Saddletree,  that  can  settle  it  as  weel  as  ony  on  the 
bench." 

The  party  she  mentioned,  a  grave  elderly  person,  with 
a  superb  periwig,  dressed  in  a  decent  suit  of  sad-colored 
clothes,  came  up  as  she  spoke,  and  courteously  gave  his  arm 
to  Miss  Grizel  Damahoy. 

It  may  be  necessary  to  mention  that  Mr.  Bartoline  Saddle- 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  3& 

tree  kept  an  excellent  and  highly  esteemed  shop  for  harness, 
saddles,  etc.,  etc.,  at  the.  sign  of  the  Golden  Nag,  at  the  head 
of  Bess  Wynd.*  His  genius,  however  (as  he  himself  and 
most  of  his  neighbors  conceived),  lay  towards  the  weightier 
matters  of  the  law,  and  he  failed  not  to  give  frequent  attend- 
ance upon  the  pleadings  and  arguments  of  the  lawyers  and 
judges  in  the  neighboring  square,  where,  to  say  the  truth,  he 
was  oftener  to  be  found  than  would  have  consisted  with  his 
own  emolument ;  but  that  his  wife,  an  active  painstaking  per- 
son, could,  in  his  absence,  make  an  admirable  shift  to  please 
the  customers  and  scold  the  journeymen.  This  good  lady 
was  in  the  habit  of  letting  her  husband  take  his  way,  and  go 
on  improving  his  stock  of  legal  knowledge  without  interrup- 
tion ;  but,  as  if  in  requital,  she  insisted  upon  having  her  own 
will  in  the  domestic  and  commercial  departments  which  he 
abandoned  to  her.  Now,  as  Bartoline  Saddletree  had  a  con- 
siderable gift  of  words,  which  he  mistook  for  eloquence,  and 
conferred  more  liberally  upon  the  society  in  which  he  lived 
than  was  at  all  times  gracious  and  acceptable,  there  went  forth 
a  saying,  with  which  wags  used  sometimes  to  interrupt  his 
rhetoric,  that,  as  he  had  a  golden  nag  at  his  door,  so  he  had  a 
gray  mare  in  his  shoj).  This  reproach  induced  Mr.  Saddle- 
tree, on  all  occasions,  to  assume  rather  a  haughty  and  stately 
tone  towards  his  good  woman,  a  circumstance  by  which  she 
seemed  very  little  affected,  unless  he  attempted  to  exercise 
any  real  authority,  when  she  never  failed  to  fly  into  open  re- 
bellion. But  such  extremes  Bartoline  seldom  provoked  ;  for, 
like  the  gentle  King  Jamie,  he  was  fonder  of  talking  of  au- 
thority than  really  exercising  it.  This  turn  of  mind  was  on 
the  whole  lucky  for  him  ;  since  his  substance  was  increased 
without  any  trouble  on  his  part,  or  any  interruption  of  his 
favorite  studies. 

This  word  in  explanation  has  been  thrown  in  to  the  reader 
while  Saddletree  was  laying  down,  with  great  precision,  the 
law  upon  Porteous's  case,  by  which  he  arrived  at  this  conclu- 
sion, that,  if  Porteous  had  fired  five  minutes  sooner,  before 
Wilson  was  cut  down,  he  would  have  been  versans  in  licito, 
engaged,  that  is,  in  a  lawful  act,  and  only  liable  to  be  pun- 
ished propter  excessum,  or  for  lack  of  discretion,  which  might 
have  mitigated  the  punishment  to  jo^w«  ordinaria. 

"  Discretion  ! "  echoed  Mrs.  Howden,  on  whom,  it  may 
well  be  supposed,  the  fineness  of  this  distinction  was  entirely 
thrown  away,  "  whan  had  Jock  Porteous  either  grace,  dia* 
cretion,  or  gude  manners  ?    I  mind  when  his  father        '* 

*  See  Bees  Wynd.    Note  6. 


3ft  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

"  But,  Mrs.  Howden "  said  Saddletree. 

''And  I,"  said  Miss  Damahoy,  ''mind  when  his  moth- 
er- 


"  Miss  Damahoy "  entreated  the  interrupted  orator. 

''And  I,"  said  Plumdamas,  "  mind  when  liis  wife " 

"Mr.  Plumdamas — Mrs.  Howden — Miss  Damahoy/' again 
implored  the  orator,  "  mind  the  distinction,"  as  Counsellor 
Crossmyloof  says — 'I,' says  he,  'take  a  distinction.'  Now, 
the  body  of  the  criminal  being  cut  down,  and  the  execution 
ended,  Porteous  was  no  longer  official ;  the  act  which  he  came 
to  protect  and  guard  being  done  and  ended,  he  was  no  better 
than  cuivis  ex populo." 

"  Quivis — quivis,  Mr.  Saddletree,  craving  your  pardon," 
said,  with  a  prolonged  emphasis  on  the  first  syllable,  Mr. 
Butler,  the  deputy  schoolmaster  of  a  parish  near  Edinburgh, 
who  at  that  moment  came  up  behind  them  as  the  false  Latin 
was  uttered. 

"  What  signifies  interrupting  me,  Mr.  Butler  ? — but  I  am 
glad  to  see  ye  notwithstanding.  I  speak  after  Counsellor 
Crossmyloof,  and  he  said  cuivis." 

"If  Counsellor  Crossmyloof  used  the  dative  for  the  nom- 
inative, I  would  have  crossed  his  loof  with  a  tight  leathern 
strap,  Mr.  Saddletree ;  there  is  not  a  boy  on  the  booby  form 
but  should  have  been  scourged  for  such  a  solecism  in  gram- 
mar." 

"  I  speak  Latin  like  a  lawyer,  Mr.  Butler,  and  not  like  a 
schoolmaster,"  retorted  Saddletree. 

"  Scarce  like  a  schoolboy,  I  think,"  rejoined  Butler. 

"It  matters  little," said  Bartoline  ;  "all  I  mean  to  say  is, 
that  Porteous  has  become  liable  to  the  poena  extra  ordinem 
or  capital  punishment,  which  is  to  say,  in  plain  Scotcli,  the 
gallows,  simply  because  he  did  not  fire  when  he  was  iii  office, 
but  waited  till  the  body  was  cut  down,  the  execution  whilk  he 
had  in  charge  to  guard  implemented,  and  he  himself  exonered 
of  the  public  trust  imposed  on  him." 

"  But,  Mr.  Saddletree,"  said  Plumdamas,  "  do  ye  really 
think  John  Porteous's  case  wad  hae  been  better  if  he  had  be- 
gun firing  before  ony  stanes  were  flung  at  a'  ?  " 

"  Indeed  do  I,  neighbor  Plumdamas,"  replied  Bartoline. 
confideutly,  "  he  being  then  in  point  of  trust  and  in  point  of 
power,  the  execution  being  but  inchoate,  or,  at  least,  not  im- 
plemented, or  finally  ended  ;  but  after  Wilson  was  cut  down 
it  was  a'  ower — he  was  clean  exauctorate,  and  had  nae  mair 
ado  but  to  get  awa'  wi'  his  Guard  up  this  West  Bow  as  fast  as 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  37 

if  there  had  been  a  caption  after  him.  And  this  is  law,  for  I 
heard  it  laid  down  by  Lord  Vincovincentem." 

'' Vincovincenteni !  Ishealordof  stateoralordof  seat  ?'* 
inquired  Mrs.  Howden. 

"  A  lord  of  seat — a  lord  of  session.  I  fash  mysell  little  wi' 
lords  o'  state  ;  they  vex  me  wi'  a  wheen  idle  questions  about 
their  saddles,  and  curpels,  and  holsters,  and  horse-furniture, 
and  what  they'll  cost,  and  whan  they'll  be  ready.  A  wheen 
galloping  geese  !  my  wife  may  serve  the  like  o'  them." 

"And  so  might  she,  in  her  day,  hae  served  the  best  lord  in 
the  land,  for  as  little  as  ye  think  o'  her,  Mr.  Saddletree,"  said 
Mrs.  Howden,  somewhat  indignant  at  the  contemptuous  way  in 
which  her  gossip  was  mentioned  ;  "■  when  she  and  I  were  twa 
gilpies,  we  little  thought  to  hae  sitten  doun  wi'  the  like  o'  my 
auld  Davie  Howden,  or  you  either,  Mr.  Saddletree." 

While  Saddletree,  who  was  not  bright  at  a  reply,  was  cud- 
gelling his  brains  for  an  answer  to  this  home-thrust.  Miss 
Damahoy  broke  in  on  him. 

"  And  as  for  the  lords  of  state,"  said  Miss  Damahoy,  "ye 
suld  mind  the  riding  o'  the  parliament,  Mr.  Saddletree,  in  the 
gude  auld  time  before  tlie  Union  :  a  year's  rent  o'  mony  a  gude 
estate  gaed  for  horse-graith  and  harnessing,  forbye  broidered 
robes  and  foot-mantles,  that  wad  hae  stude  by  their  lane  wi' 
gold  brocade,  and  that  were  muckle  in  my  ain  line." 

"  Ay,  and  then  the  lusty  banqueting,  with  sweetmeats  and 
comfits  wet  and  dry,  and  dried  fruits  of  divers  sorts,"  said  Plum- 
damas.     "  But  Scotland  was  Scotland  in  these  days." 

"  I'll  tell  ye  what  it  is,  neighbors,"  said  Mrs.  Howden, 
"  I'll  ne'er  believe  Scotland  is  Scotland  ony  mair,  if  our  kindly 
Scots  sit  doun  with  the  affront  they  hae  gien  us  this  day.  It's 
not  only  the  bluid  that  is  shed,  but  the  bluid  that  might  hae 
been  shed,  that's  required  at  our  hands.  There  was  my 
daughter's  wean,  little  Eppie  Daidle — my  oe,  ye  ken.  Miss 
Grizel — had  played  the  truant  frae  the  school,  as  bairns  will 
do,  ye  ken,  Mr.  Butler " 

"And  for  which,"  interjected  Mr.  Butler,  "they  should 
be  soundly  scourged  by  their  well-wishers." 

"  And  had  just  cruppen  to  the  gallows'  foot  to  see  the  Ixang- 
ing,  as  was  natural  for  a  wean  ;  and  what  for  mightna  she  hae 
been  shot  as  weel  as  the  rest  o'  them,  and  where  wad  we  a'  hae 
been  then  ?  I  wonder  how  Queen  Carline — if  her  name  be 
Carline — wad  hae  liked  to  hae  had  ane  o'  her  ain  bairns  in  sic  a 
venture  ? " 

"  Report  says. "answered  Butler,  "  that  such  a  circumstance 
would  not  have  distressed  her  Majesty  beyond  endur«Ti'^»  " 


38  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

*' Aweel/*  said  Mrs.  Howden,  "the  sum  o'  the  matter  is, 
that,  were  I  a  man,  1  wad  hae  amends  o'  Jock  Porteous,  be 
the  upshot  what  like  o%  if  a'  the  carles  and  carlines  in  Eng- 
land had  sworn  to  the  nay-say." 

"\  would  claw  down  the  tolbooth  door  wi'  my  nails,"  said 
Miss  Grizel,  "but  I  wad  be  at  him." 

"  Ye  may  be  very  right,  ladies,"  said  Butler,  "  but  I  would 
not  advise  you  to  speak  so  loud." 

''  Speak  !"  exclaimed  both  the  ladies  together,  "  there  will 
be  naething  else  spoken  about  frae  the  Weigh  House  to  the 
Water  Gate  till  this  is  either  ended  or  mended." 

The  females  now  departed  to  their  respective  places  of 
abode.  Plumdamas  joined  the  other  two  gentlemen  in  drink- 
ing their  "  meridian,"  a  bumper-dram  of  brandy,  as  they  passed 
the  well-known  low-browed  shop  in  the  Lawnmarket  where  they 
were  wont  to  take  that  refreshment.  Mr.  Plumdamas  then 
departed  towards  his  shop,  and  Mr.  Butler,  who  happened  to 
have  some  par^'icular  occasion  for  the  rein  of  an  old  bridle — 
the  truants  of  ^hat  busy  day  could  have  anticipated  its  aj^pli  - 
cation — walked  down  the  Law^imarket  with  Mr.  Saddletree, 
each  ta.Ving  as  ne  could  get  a  word  thrust  in,  the  one  on  the 
laws  of  >^cotlani,  the  other  on  those  of  syntax,  and  neither 
listening  to  a  word  which  nig  companion  uttered. 


CHAPTER  V 

Elswhair  he  colde  right  weel  lay  down  the  law, 
But  in  his  house  was  meek  as  is  a  daw. 

Davie  Lindsay. 

"Therf.  has  been  Jock  Driver,  the  carrier,  here,  speering 
about  his  new  graith,"  said  Mrs.  Saddletree  to  her  husband, 
as  he  crossed  his  threshold,  not  with  the  purpose,  by  any 
means,  of  consulting  him  upon  his  own  affairs,  but  merely  to 
intimate,  by  a  gentle  recapitulation,  how  much  duty  she  had 
gone  through  in  his  absence. 

"  Weel,"  replied  Bartoline,  and  deigned  not  a  word  more. 

"And  the  Laird  of  Girdingburst  has  had  his  running 
footman  here,  and  ca'd  himsell — he's  a  civil  pleasant  young 
gentleman — to  see  when  the  broidered  saddle-cloth  for  his 
Borrel  horse  will  be  ready,  for  he  wants  it  again  the  Kelso 
races." 

"Weel,  aweel,"  replied  Bartoline,  as  laconically  as  before. 

"  And  his  lordship,  the  Earl  of  Blazonbury,  Lord  Flash 
and  Flame,  is  like  to  be  clean  daft  that  the  harness  for  the  six 
Flanders  mears,  wi'  the  crests,  coronets,  housings,  and  mount- 
ings conform,  are  no  sent  hame  according  to  promise  gien." 

"Weel,  weel,  weel — weel,  weel,  gudewife,"  said  Saddle- 
tree, "if  he  gangs  daft,  we'll  hae  him  cognosced — it's  a' 
very  weel." 

""  It's  weel  that  ye  think  sae,  Mr.  Saddletree,"  answered 
Lis  helpmate,  rather  nettled  at  the  indifference  with  which 
her  report  was  received  ;  "  there's  mony  ane  wad  hae  thought 
themselves  affronted  if  sae  mony  customers  had  ca'd  and  nae- 
body  to  answer  them  but  womenfolk  ;  for  a'  the  lads  were  aff, 
as  soon  as  your  back  was  turned,  to  see  Porteous  hanged,  that 
might  be  counted  upon  ;  and  sae,  you  no  being  at  hamc '^ 

"  Houts,  Mrs.  Saddletree,"  said  Bartoline,  with  an  air  of 
consequence,  "dinna  deave  me  wi'  your  nonsense;  I  was 
cinder  the  necessity  of  being  elsewhere  :  non  omnia,  as  Mr. 
Crossmyloof  said,  when  he  was  called  by  two  macers  at  once 
— non  omnia possumus — pessimus — possimis — I  ken  our  law 
Latin  offends  Mr.  Butler's  ears,  but  it  means  '  Naebody/  an 

80 


40  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 


it  were  the  Lord  President  liimsell,  '  can  do  twa  turns  at 
ance. ' " 

"  Very  right,  Mr.  Saddletree,"  answered  his  careful  help- 
mate, with  a  sarcastic  smile;  "and  nae  doubt  it's  a  decent 
thing  to  leave  your  wife  to  look  after  young  gentlemen's  sad- 
dles and  bridles,  when  ye  gang  to  see  a  man  that  never  did  ye 
nae  ill  raxing  a  halter." 

"  Woman,"  said  Saddletree,  assuming  an  elevated  tone,  to 
which  the  "meridian"  had  somewhat  contributed,  "desist — 
I  say  forbear,  from  intromitting  with  affairs  thou  canst  not 
understand.  D'ye  think  I  was  born  to  sit  here  broggin  an 
elshin  through  bend-leather,  when  sic  men  as  Duncan  Forbes 
and  that  other  Arniston  chield  there,  without  muckle  greater 
parts,  if  the  close-head  speak  true,  than  mysell,  maun  be  pres- 
idents and  king's  advocates,  nae  doubt,  and  wha  but  they  ? 
Wliereas,  were  favor  equally  distribute,  as  in  the  days  of  the 
wight  Wallace " 

"  I  ken  naethingwe  wad  hae  gotten  by  the  wight  Wallace," 
said  Mrs.  Saddletree,  "  unless,  as  I  hae  heard  the  auld  folk 
tell,  they  fought  in  thae  days  wi'  bend-leather  guns,  and  then 
it's  a  chance  but  what,  if  he  had  bouglitthem,  he  might  have 
forgot  to  pay  for  them.  And  as  for  tlie  greatness  of  your  parts, 
Bartley,  the  folk  in  the  close-head  maun  ken  mair  about  them 
than  I  do,  if  they  make  sic  a  report  of  them." 

"  I  tell  ye,  woman,"  said  Saddletree,  in  high  dudgeon, 
"that  ye  ken  naething  about  these  matters.  In  Sir  William 
Wallace's  days  there  was  nae  man  pinned  down  to  sic  a  slavish 
wark  as  a  saddler's,  for  they  got  ony  leather  graith  that  they 
had  use  for  ready-made  out  of  Holland." 

"  Well,"  said  Butler,  who  was,  like  many  of  his  profession, 
something  of  a  humorist  and  dry  joker,  "  if  tliat  be  the  case, 
Mr.  Saddletree,  I  think  we  have  changed  for  the  better  ;  since 
we  make  our  own  harness,  and  only  import  our  lawvers  from 
Holland." 

"It's  ower  true,  Mr.  Butler,"  answered  Bartoline,  with  a 
sigh  ;  "  if  I  had  had  the  luck — or  rather,  if  my  father  liad  had 
the  sense  to  send  me  to  Leyden  and  Utrecht  to  learn  the 
Substitutes  and  Panclex " 

"You  mean  the  Institutes — Justinian's  Institutes,  Mr. 
Saddletree  ?  "  said  Butler. 

"  Institutes  and  substitutes  are  synonymous  words,  Mr. 
Butler,  and  used  indifferently  as  such  in  deeds  of  tailzie,  as 
you  may  see  in  Balfour's  Prac/ig'^/es,  or  Dallas  of  St.  Martin's 
Styles.  I  understand  these  tilings  pretty  weel,  I  thank  God ; 
but  I  own  I  should  have  studied  in  Holland." 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  41 

"To  comfort  yon,  you  might  not  have  been  farther  for- 
ward than  you  are  now,  Mr.  Saddletree,"  replied  Mr.  Butler  ; 
''  for  our  Scottish  advocates  are  an  aristocratic  race.  Their 
brass  is  of  the  right  Corinthian  quality,  and  Non  cuivis  con- 
tigit  adire  (Jorintlium.     Aha,  Mr.  Saddletree  !  " 

"  And  aha,  Mr.  Butler,''  rejoined  Bartoline,  upon  whom, 
as  may  be  well  supposed,  the  jest  was  lost,  and  all  but  the 
sound  of  the  words,  "ye  said  a  gliff  syne  it  was  qttivis,  and 
now  I  heard  ye  say  cuivis  with  my  ain  ears,  as  plain  as  ever 
I  heard  a  word  at  the  fore-bar. '' 

"  Give  me  your  patience,  Mr.  Saddletree,  and  I'll  explain 
the  discrepancy  in  three  words,"  said  Butler,  as  pedantic  in 
his  own  department,  though  with  infinitely  more  judgment 
and  learning,  as  Bartoline  was  in  his  self-assumed  profession 
of  the  law.  "Give  me  your  patience  for  a  moment.  You'll 
grant  that  the  nominative  case  is  that  by  which  a  person  or 
thing  is  nominated  or  designed,  and  which  may  be  called  the 
primary  case,  all  others  being  formed  from  it  by  alterations 
of  the  termination  in  the  learned  languages,  and  by  preposi- 
tions in  our  modern  Babylonian  jargons  ?  You'll  grant  me 
that,  I  suppose,  Mr.  Saddletree  ?  " 

"  I  dinna  ken  whether  I  will  or  no — ad  avisandiim ,  ye  ken 
— naebody  should  be  in  a  hurry  to  make  admissions,  either  in 
point  of  law  or  in  point  of  fact,"  said  Saddletree,  looking,  or 
endeavoring  to  look,  as  if  he  understood  what  was  said. 

"  And  the  dative  case "  continued  Butler. 

"I  ken  what  a  tutor  dative  is,"  said  Saddletree,  "readily 
enough." 

"The  dative  case,"  resumed  the  grammarian,  "is  that  in 
which  anything  is  given  or  assigned  as  properly  belonging  to 
a  person  or  thing.     You  cannot  deny  that,  I  am  sure." 

"I  am  sure  I'll  no  grant  it  though,"  said  Saddletree. 

"  Then,  what  the  deevil  d'ye  take  the  nominative  and  the 
dative  cases  to  be  ?  "  said  Butler,  hastily,  and  surprised  at  once 
out  of  his  decency  of  expression  and  accuracy  of  pronuncia- 
tion. 

"I'll  tell  you  that  at  leisure,  Mr.  Butler,"  said  Saddletree, 
with  a  very  knowing  look.  "I'll  take  a  day  to  see  and  an- 
swer every  article  of  your  condescendence,  and  then  I'll  hold 
you  to  confess  or  deny,  as  accords." 

"  Come,  come,  Mr.  Saddletree,"  said  his  wife,  "  we'll  hae 

nae  confessions  and  condescendences  here,  let  them  deal  in 

thae  sort  o'  wares  that  are  paid  for  them  ;  they  suit  the  like 

o'  us  as  ill  as  a  demi-pique  saddle  would  set  a  draught  ox." 

"Aha!"   said  Mr,   Butler,   "  Optat  ephippia  bos  piger, 


43  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

nothing  new  under  the  snn.  But  it  was  a  fair  hit  of  Mrs. 
Saddletree,  however." 

"And  it  wad  far  better  become  ye^  Mr,  Saddletree,"  con- 
tinued his  helpmate,  "since  ye  say  ye  hae  skeel  o'  the  law,  to 
try  if  ye  can  do  onything  for  Effie  Deans,  puir  thing,  that's 
lying  up  in  the  tolbooth  yonder,  cauld,  and  hungry,  and  com- 
fortless. A  servant  lass  of  ours,  Mr.  Butler,  and  as  innocent 
a  lass,  to  my  thinking,  and  as  usefu'  in  the  shop.  When  Mr. 
Saddletree  gangs  out — and  ye're  aware  he's  seldom  at  hame 
when  there's  ony  o'  the  plea-houses  open — puir  Effie  used  to 
help  me  to  tumble  the  bundles  o'  barkened  leather  up  and 
down,  and  range  out  the  gudes,  and  suit  a'body's  humors. 
And  troth,  she  could  aye  please  the  customers  wi'  her  answers. 
for  she  was  aye  civil,  and  a  bonnier  lass  wasna  in  Auld  Reekie. 
And  when  folk  were  hasty  and  unreasonable,  she  could  serve 
them  better  than  me,  that  am  no  sae  young  as  I  hae  been,  Mr. 
Butler,  and  a  wee  bit  short  in  the  temper  into  the  bargain ; 
for  when  there's  ower  mony  folks  crying  on  me  at  anes,  and 
nane  but  ae  tongue  to  answer  them,  folk  maun  speak  hastily, 
or  they'll  ne'er  get  through  their  wark.  Sae  I  miss  Effie 
daily." 

"  De  die  in  diem,"  added  Saddletree. 

"I  think,"  said  Butler,  after  a  good  deal  of  hesitation,  "\ 
have  seen  the  girl  in  the  shop,  a  modest-looking,  fair-haired 
girl?" 

"  Ay,  ay,  that's  just  puir  Effie,"  said  her  mistress.  "  How 
she  was  abandoned  to  hersell,  or  whether  she  was  sackless  o' 
the  sinf  u'  deed,  G-od  in  Heaven  knows  ;  but  if  she's  been  guilty, 
she's  been  sair  tempted,  and  I  wad  amaist  take  my  Bible  aith 
she  hasna  been  hersell  at  the  time." 

Butler  had  by  this  time  become  much  agitated  ;  he  fid- 
geted up  and  down  the  shop,  and  showed  the  greatest  agitation 
that  a  person  of  such  strict  decorum  could  be  supposed  to  give 
way  to.  "  Was  not  this  girl,"  he  said,  ''  the  daughter  of  David 
Deans,  that  had  the  parks  at  St.  Leonard's  taken  ?  and  has 
she  not  a  sister  ?  " 

"  In  troth  has  she — puir  Jeanie  Deans,  ten  years  aulder 
than  hersell  ;  she  was  here  greeting  a  wee  while  syne  about 
her  tittie.  And  what  could  I  say  to  her,  but  that  she  behoved 
to  come  and  speak  to  Mr.  Saddletree  when  he  was  at  hame  ? 
It  wasna  that  I  thought  Mr.  Saddletree  could  do  her  or  ony 
other  body  muckle  gude  or  ill,  but  it  wad  aye  serve  to  keep 
the  puir  thing's  heart  up  for  a  wee  while  ;  and  let  sorrow 
come  when  sorrow  maun." 

"Ye're  mistaen,  though,  gudewife,"  said  Saddletree,  scorn- 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  48 

fully,  "  for  I  could  hae  gien  her  great  satisfaction  ;  I  could 
hae  proved  to  her  that  her  sister  was  indicted  upon  the  stat- 
ute 1690,  chap.  1  [21] — for  the  mair  ready  prevention  of  child- 
murder,  for  concealing  her  pregnancy,  and  giving  no  account 
of  the  child  which  she  had  borne." 

"■  I  hope,"  said  Butler — "  I  trust  in  a  gracious  God,  that 
she  can  clear  herself." 

"And  sae  do  I,  Mr.  Butler,"  replied  Mrs.  Saddletree. 
"  I  am  sure  1  wad  hae  answered  for  her  as  my  ain  daughter  ; 
but,  wae's  my  heart,  I  had  been  tender  a'  the  simmer,  and 
scarce  ower  the  door  o'  my  room  for  twal  weeks.  And  as  for 
Mr.  Saddletree,  he  might  be  in  a  lying-in  hospital,  and  ne'er 
find  out  what  the  women  cam  there  for.  Sae  I  could  see 
little  or  naetliing  o'  her,  or  I  wad  hae  had  the  trutli  o'  her 
situation  out  o'  her,  I'se  warrant  ye.  But  we  a'  think  her 
sister  maun  be  able  to  speak  something  to  clear  her." 

"The  haill  Parliament  House,"  said  Saddletree,  "was 
speaking  o'  naething  else,  till  this  job  o'  Porteous's  put  it 
out  o'  head.  It's  a  beautiful  point  of  presumptive  murder, 
and  there's  been  nane  like  it  in  the  Justiciar  Court  since  the 
case  of  Luckie  Smith,  the  howdie,  that  suffered  in  the  year 
1679." 

"But  what's  the  matter  wi'  you,  Mr.  Butler?"  said  the 
good  woman  ;  "ye  are  looking  as  white  as  a  sheet ;  will  ye 
take  a  dram  ?  " 

"  By  no  means,"  said  Butler,  compelling  himself  to  speak. 
"I  walked  in  from  Dumfries  yesterday,  and  this  is  a  warm 
day." 

"  Sit  down,"  said  Mrs.  Saddletree,  laying  hands  on  him 
kindly,  "  and  rest  ye ;  ye'll  kill  yoursell,  man,  at  that  rate. 
And  are  we  to  wish  you  joy  o'  getting  the  scule,  Mr.  Butler  ?  " 

"  Yes — no — I  do  not  know,"  answered  the  young  man, 
vaguely.  But  Mrs.  Saddletree  kept  him  to  the  point,  partly 
out  of  real  interest,  partly  from  curiosity. 

"'  Ye  dinna  ken  whether  ye  are  to  get  the  free  scule  o' 
Dumfries  or  no,  after  hinging  on  and  teaching  it  a'  the  sim- 
mer ?" 

"  No,  Mrs.  Saddletree,  I  am  not  to  have  it,"  replied  But- 
ler, more  collectedly.  "The  Laird  of  Black-at-the-Bane  had 
a  natural  son  bred  to  the  kirk,  that  the  presbytery  could  not 
be  prevailed  upon  to  license ;  aud  so " 

"  Ay,  ye  need  say  nae  mair  about  it ;  if  there  was  a  laird 
that  had  a  puir  kinsman  or  a  bastard  that  it  wad  suit,  there's 
eneugh  said.  And  ye're  e'en  come  back  to  Liberton  to  wait 
for  dead  men's  shoon  ?  and,  for  as  frail  as  Mr.  Whackbairu 


44  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

is,  he  may  live  as  lang  as  you,  that  are  his  assistant  and  suc- 
cessor." 

"  Very  like,"  replied  Butler,  with  a  sigh ;  "  I  do  not  know 
if  I  should  wish  it  otherwise." 

"  Nae  doubt  it's  a  very  vexing  thing,"  continued  the  good 
lady,  "  to  be  in  that  dependent  station  ;  and  you  that  hae  right 
and  title  to  sae  muckle  better,  I  wonder  how  ye  bear  these 
crosses." 

"'  Quos  diligit  castigat,"  answered  Butler  ;  "even  the  pa- 
gan Seneca  could  see  an  advantage  in  affliction.  The  heathens 
had  their  philosophy  and  the  Jews  their  revelation,  Mrs.  Sad- 
dletree, and  they  endured  their  distresses  in  their  day.  Chris- 
tians have  a  better  dispensation  than  either,  but  doubtless " 

He  stopped  and  sighed. 

"I  ken  what  ye  mean,"  said  Mrs.  Saddletree,  looking  to- 
ward her  husband  ;  "  there's  whiles  we  lose  patience  in  spite 
of  baith  book  and  Bible.  But  ye  are  no  gaun  awa',  and  look- 
ing sae  poorly  ;  ye'll  stay  and  take  some  kail  wi'  us  ?  " 

Mr.  Saddletree  laid  aside  Balfour's  Practiques  (his  favor- 
ite study,  and  much  good  may  it  do  him),  to  join  in  his  wife's 
hospitable  importunity.  But  the  teacher  declined  all  entreaty, 
and  took  liis  leave  upon  the  spot. 

"  There's  something  in  a'  this,"  said  Mrs.  Saddletree,  look- 
ing after  him  as  he  walked  up  the  street.  "  I  wonder  what 
makes  Mr.  Butler  sae  distressed  about  Effie's  misfortune  ; 
there  was  nae  acquaintance  at  ween  them  that  ever  I  saw  or 
heard  of  ;  but  they  were  neighbors  when  David  Deans  was  on 
the  Laird  o'  Dumbiedikes'  land.  Mr.  Butler  wad  ken  her 
father,  or  some  o'  her  folk.  Get  up,  Mr.  Saddletree  ;  ye  have 
set  yoursell  down  on  the  very  brecham  that  wants  stitching  ; 
and  here's  little  Willie,  the  prentice.  Ye  little  rinthereout 
deil  that  ye  are,  what  takes  you  raking  through  the  gutters  to 
see  folk  hangit  ?  How  wad  ye  like  when  it  comes  to  be  your 
ain  chance,  as  I  winna  insure  ye,  if  ye  dinna  mend  your  man- 
ners ?  And  what  are  ye  maundering  and  greeting  for,  as  if 
a  word  were  breaking  your  banes  ?  Gang  in  bye,  and  be  a 
better  bairn  another  time,  and  tell  Peggy  to  gie  ye  a  bicker  o' 
broth,  for  ye'll  be  as  gleg  as  a  gled,  I'se  warrant  ye.  It's  a 
fatherless  bairn,  Mr.  Saddletree,  and  motherless,  whilk  in  some 
cases  may  be  waur,  and  ane  would  take  care  o'  him  if  they 
could;  it's  a  Christian  duty." 

"Very  true,  gudewife,"  said  Saddletree,  in  reply,  "  we  are 
m  loco  parentis  to  him  during  his  years  of  pupillarity,  and  I 
hae  had  thoughts  of  applying  to  the  court  for  a  commission  as 
factor  loco  tuioris,  seeing  there  is  nae  tutor  nominate,  and  the 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  45 

tutor-at-law  declines  to  act  ;  but  only  I  fear  the  expense  of 
the  procedure  wad  not  be  in  rem  versmn,  for  I  am  not  aware 
if  Willie  has  ony  effects  whereof  to  assume  the  administra- 
tion^ 

H^cohcluded  this  sentence  with  a  self-important  cough, 
as  one  who  has  laid  down  the  law  in  an  indisputable  manner. 

''Efl'eclsl"  said  Mrs.  Saddletree;  ''what  effects  has  the 
p(uir  wean  ?  He  was  in  rags  when  his  mother  died  ;  and  the 
blue  polonie  that  Effie  made  for  him  out  of  an  auld  mantle  of 
my  ain  was  the  first  decent  dress  the  bairn  ever  had  on. 
Puir  Effie  !  can  ye  tell  me  now  really,  wi'  a'  your  law,  will  her 
life  be  in  danger,  Mr.  Saddletree,  when  they  arena  able  to 
prove  that  ever  there  was  a  bairn  ava  ?  " 

"Whoy,"  said  Mr.  Saddletree,  delighted  at  having  for 
once  in  his  life  seen  his  wife's  attention  arrested  by  a  topic  of 
legal  discussion — "  whoy,  there  are  two  sorts  of  tmirdrum,  or 
murdragium,  or  what  you  populariter  ei  vulgariter  call  mur- 
ther.  I  mean  there  are  many  sorts ;  for  there's  your  miir- 
thrimt  per  vigilias  et  insidias  and  your  murtlirum  under 
trust." 

"I  am  sure,"  replied  his  moiety,  "that  murther  by  trust 
is  the  way  that  the  gentry  murther  us  merchants,  and  whiles 
make  us  shut  the  booth  up  ;  but  that  has  naething  to  do  wi' 
Effie's  misfortune." 

"The  case  of  Effie — orEuphemia — Deans,"  resumed  Sad- 
dletree, "is  one  of  those  cases  of  murder  presumptive,  that 
is,  a  murder  of  the  law's  inferring  or  construction,  being  de- 
rived from  certain  indicia  or  grounds  of  suspicion." 

"  So  that,"  said  the  good  woman,  "  unless  puir  Effie  has 
communicated  her  situation,  she'll  be  hanged  by  the  neck,  if 
the  bairn  was  still-born,  or  if  it  be  alive  at  this  moment  ?  " 

"Assuredly."  said  Saddletree,  "it  being  a  statute  made 
by  our  sovereign  Lord  and  Lady  to  prevent  the  horrid  delict 
of  bringing  forth  children  in  secret.  The  crime  is  rather  a 
favorite  of  the  law,  this  species  of  murther  being  one  of  its 
ain  creation."  * 

"'  Then,  if  the  law  makes  murders,"  said  Mrs.  Saddletree, 
"  the  law  should  be  hanged  for  them  ;  or  if  they  wad  hang  a 
lawyer  instead,  the  country  wad  find  nae  faut." 

A  summons  to  their  frugal  dinner  interrupted  the  further 
progress  of  the  conversation,  which  was  otherwise  like  to  take 
a  turn  much  less  favorable  to  the  science  of  jurisprudence  and 
its  professors  than  Mr.  Bartoline  Saddletree,  the  fond  admirer 
of  both,  had  at  its  opening  anticipated. 

♦  See  Law  relating  to  Child- Murder.    Note  7. 


CHAPTER  YI 

But  up  then  raise  all  Edinburgh, 
They  all  rose  up  by  thousands  three. 

Johnie  Armstrong's  Goodnight. 

BuTLEE,  on  his  departure  from  the  sign  of  the  Golden  Nng, 
went  in  quest  of  a  friend  of  his  connected  with  the  law,  of 
whom  he  wished  to  make  particular  inquiries  concerning  the 
circumstances  in  which  the  unfortunate  young  woman  men- 
tioned in  the  last  chapter  was  placed,  having,  as  the  reader 
has  probably  already  conjectured,  reasons  much  deeper  than 
those  dictated  by  mere  humanity  for  interesting  himself  in 
her  fate.  He  found  the  person  he  sought  absent  from  home, 
and  was  equally  unfortunate  in  one  or  two  other  calls  which 
he  made  upon  acquaintances  whom  he  hoped  to  interest  in  her 
story.  But  everybody  was,  for  the  moment,  stark  mad  on 
the  subject  of  Porteous,  and  engaged  busily  in  attacking  or 
defending  the  measures  of  government  in  reprieving  him  ; 
and  the  ardor  of  dispute  had  excited  such  uni>rersal  thirst  that 
half  the  young  lawyers  and  writers,  together  with  their  very 
clerks,  the  class  whom  Butler  was  looking  after,  had  adjourned 
the  debate  to  some  favorite  tavern.  It  was  computed  by  an 
experienced  arithmetician  that  there  was  as  much  twopenny 
ale  consumed  on  the  discussion  as  would  have  floated  a  first- 
rate  man-of-war. 

Butler  wandered  about  until  it  was  dusk,  resolving  to  take 
that  opportunity  of  visiting  the  unfortunate  young  woman, 
when  his  doing  so  might  be  least  observed  ;  for  he  had  his 
own  reasons  for  avoiding  the  remarks  of  Mrs.  Saddletree, 
whose  shop-door  opened  at  no  great  distance  from  that  of  the 
jail,  though  on  the  opposite  or  south  side  of  the  street,  and  a 
little  higher  up.  He  passed,  therefore,  through  the  narrow 
and  partly  covered  passage  leading  from  the  north-west  end 
of  the  Parliament  Square. 

He  stood  now  before  the  Gothic  entrance  of  the  ancient 
prison,  which,  as  is  well  known  to  all  men,  rears  its  ancient 
front  in  the  very  middle  of  the  High  Street,  forming,  as  it 
were,  the  termination  to  a  huge  pile  of  buildings  called  the 
Luckenbooths,  which,  for  some  inconceivable  reason,  our  an- 

46 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  47 

cestors  had  jammed  into  the  midst  of  the  principal  street  of 
the  town,  leaving  for  passage  a  narrow  street  on  the  north, 
and  on  the  south,  into  which  the  prison  opens,  a  narrow 
crooked  lane,  winding  betwixt  the  high  and  sombre  walls  of 
the  tolbooth  and  the  adjacent  houses  on  the  one  side,  and  the 
buttresses  and  projections  of  the  old  Cathedral  upon  the  other. 
To  give  some  gayety  to  this  sombre  passage,  well  known  by 
the  name  of  the  Krames,  a  number  of  little  booths  or  shops, 
after  the  fashion  of  cobblers'  stalls,  are  plastered,  as  it  were, 
against  the  Gothic  projections  and  abutments,  so  that  it 
seemed  as  if  the  traders  had  occupied  with  nests,  bearing  the 
same  proportion  to  the  building,  every  buttress  and  coign  of 
vantage,  as  the  martlet  did  in  Macbeth's  castle.  Of  later  years 
these  booths  have  degenerated  into  mere  toy-shops,  where  the 
little  loiterers  chiefly  interested  in  such  wares  are  tempted  to 
linger,  enchanted  by  the  rich  display  of  hobby-horses,  babies, 
and  Dutch  toys,  arranged  in  artful  and  gay  confusion  ;  yet 
half-scared  by  the  cross  looks  of  the  withered  pantaloon,  or 
spectacled  old  lady,  by  whom  these  tempting  stores  are  watched 
and  superintended.  But  in  the  times  we  write  of  the  hosiers, 
the  glovers,  the  hatters,  the  mercers,  the  milliners,  and  all  who 
dealt  in  the  miscellaneous  wares  now  termed  haberdashers' 
goods,  were  to  be  found  in  this  narrow  alley. 

To  return  from  our  digression.  Butler  found  the  outer 
turnkey,  a  tall,  thin  old  man,  with  long  silver  hair,  in  the 
act  of  locking  the  outward  door  of  the  jail.  He  addressed 
nimself  to  this  person,  and  asked  admittance  to  EflEie  Deans, 
confined  upon  accusation  of  child-murder.  The  turnkey 
looked  at  him  earnestly,  and,  civilly  touching  his  hat  out  of 
respect  to  Butler's  black  coat  and  clerical  ai^pearance,  replied, 
"  It  was  impossible  any  one  could  be  admitted  at  present." 

"  You  shut  wp  earlier  than  usual,  probably  on  account  of 
Captain  Porteous's  affair  ?  "  said  Butler. 

The  turnkey,  with  the  true  mystery  of  a  person  in  office, 
gave  two  grave  nods,  and  withdrawing  from  the  wards  a  pon- 
derous key  of  about  two  feet  in  length,  he  proceeded  to  shut 
a  strong  plate  of  steel  which  folded  down  above  the  keyhole, 
and  was  secured  by  a  steel  spring  and  catch.  Butler  stood 
still  instinctively  while  the  door  was  made  fast,  and  tlien  look- 
ing at  his  watch,  Avalked  briskly  up  the  street,  muttering  to 
himself  almost  unconsciously — 

Porta  adversa,  ingens,  solidoque  adamante  columnae  ; 
Vis  ut  nulla  virum,  non  ipsi  exscindere  ferro 
Coelicolae  valeant.     Stat  f  errea  turris  ad  auras,  etc.* 
•  See  Translation.    Note  8. 


48  VAVERLEY  NOVELS 

Having  wasted  half  an  hour  more  in  a  second  fruitless  at- 
tempt to  find  his  legal  friend  and  adviser,  he  thought  it  time  to 
leave  the  city  and  return  to  his  place  of  residence  in  a  small 
village  about  two  miles  and  a  half  to  the  southward  of  Edin- 
burgh. The  metropolis  was  at  this  time  surrounded  by  a 
high  wall,  with  battlements  and  flanking  projections  at  some 
intervals,  and  the  access  was  through  gates,  called  in  the 
Scottish  language  "ports,"  which  were  regularly  shut  at 
night.  A  small  fee  to  the  keepers  would  indeed  procure 
egress  and  ingress  at  any  time,  through  a  wicket  left  for  that 
purpose  in  the  large  gate,  but  it  was  of  some  importance  to  a 
man  so  poor  as  Butler  to  avoid  even  this  slight  pecuniary 
mulct ;  and  fearing  the  hour  of  shutting  the  gates  might  be 
near,  lie  made  for  that  to  which  he  found  himself  nearest, 
although  by  doing  so  he  somewhat  lengthened  his  walk 
homewards.  Bristo  Port  was  that  by  which  his  direct  road 
lay,  but  the  West  Port,  which  leads  out  of  the  Grassmarket, 
was  the  nearest  of  the  city  gates  to  the  place  where  he  found 
himself,  and  to  that,  therefore,  he  directed  his  course. 

He  reached  the  port  in  ample  time  to  pass  the  circuit  of 
the  walls,  and  enter  a  suburb  called  Portsburgh,  chiefly  in- 
habited by  the  lower  order  of  citizens  and  mechanics.  Here 
he  was  unexpectedly  interrupted.  He  had  not  gone  far  from 
the  gate  before  he  heard  the  sound  of  a  drum,  and,  to  his 
great  surprise,  met  a  number  of  persons,  sufficient  to  occupy 
the  whole  front  of  the  street,  and  form  a  considerable  mass 
behind,  moving  with  great  speed  towards  the  gate  he  had  just 
come  from,  and  having  in  front  of  them  a  drum  beating  to 
arms.  While  be  considered  how  he  should  escape  a  party 
assembled,  as  it  might  be  presumed,  for  no  lawful  j)urpose, 
they  came  full  on  him  and  stopped  him. 

''  Are  you  a  clergyman  ?  "  one  questioned  him. 

Butler  replied  that  "he  was  in  orders,  but  was  not  a 
placed  minister." 

"  It's  Mr.  Butler  from  Liberton,"said  a  voice  from  behind; 
''  he'll  discharge  the  duty  as  weel  as  ony  man." 

"  You  must  turn  back  with  us,  sir,"  said  the  first  speaker, 
in  a  tone  civil  but  peremptory. 

" For  what  purpose,  gentlemen  ?"  said  Mr.  Butler.  "I 
live  at  some  distance  from  town  ;  the  roads  are  unsafe  by 
night ;  you  will  do  me  a  serious  injury  by  stopping  me." 

"You  shall  be  sent  safely  home,  no  man  shall  touch  a  hair 
of  your  head  ;  but  you  must  and  shall  come  along  with  us." 

"But  to  what  purpose  or  end,  gentlemen  ?"  said  Butler. 
**I  hope  you  will  be  so  civil  as  to  explain  that  to  me  ?" 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  49 

''Yon  shall  know  that  in  good  time.  Come  along,  for 
come  you  must,  by  force  or  fair  means  ;  and  I  warn  you  to 
look  neither  to  the  right  hand  nor  the  left,  and  to  take  no 
notice  of  any  man's  face,  but  consider  all  that  is  passing  be- 
fore you  as  a  dream." 

"I  would  it  were  a  dream  I  could  awaken  from,"  said 
Butler  to  himself  ;  but  having  no  means  to  oppose  the  violence 
with  which  he  was  threatened,  he  was  compelled  to  turn  round 
and  march  in  front  of  the  rioters,  two  men  partly  supporting 
and  partly  holding  him.  During  this  parley  the  insurgents 
had  made  themselves  masters  of  the  West  Port,  rushing  upon 
the  waiters  (so  the  people  were  called  who  had  the  charge  of 
the  gates),  and  possessing  themselves  of  the  keys.  They 
bolted  and  barred  the  folding  doors,  and  commanded  the  per- 
son whose  duty  it  usually  was  to  secure  the  wicket,  of  which 
they  did  not  understand  the  fastenings.  The  man,  terrified 
at  an  incident  so  totally  unexpected,  was  unable  to  perform 
his  usual  office,  and  gave  the  matter  up,  after  several  attempts. 
The  rioters,  who  seemed  to  have  come  prepared  for  every 
emergency,  called  for  torches,  by  the  light  of  which  they 
nailed  up  the  wicket  with  long  nails,  which,  it  appeared  prob- 
able, they  had  provided  on  purpose. 

While  this  was  going  on,  Butler  could  not,  even  if  he  had 
been  willing,  avoid  making  remarks  on  the  individuals  who 
seemed  to  lead  this  singular  mob.  The  torch-light,  while  it 
fell  on  their  forms  and  left  him  in  the  shade,  gave  him  an 
opportunity  to  do  so  without  their  observing  him.  Several  of 
those  who  appeared  most  active  were  dressed  in  sailors'  jackets, 
trowsers,  and  sea-caps  ;  others  in  large  loose-bodied  greatcoats, 
and  slouched  hats  ;  and  there  were  several  who,  judging  from 
their  dress,  should  have  been  called  women,  Avhose  rough  deep 
voices,  uncommon  size,  and  masculine  deportment  and  mode 
of  walking,  forbade  them  being  so  interpreted.  They  moved 
as  if  by  some  well-concerted  plan  of  arrangement.  They  had 
signals  by  which  they  knew,  and  nicknames  by  which  they 
distinguished,  each  other.  Butler  remarked  that  the  name  of 
Wildfire  was  used  among  them,  to  which  one  stout  amazon 
seemed  to  reply. 

The  rioters  left  a  small  party  to  observe  the  West  Port, 
and  directed  the  waiters,  as  they  valued  their  lives,  to  remain 
within  their  lodge,  and  make  no  attempt  for  that  night  to  re- 
possess themselves  of  the  gate.  They  then  moved  with  rapid- 
ity along  the  low  street  called  the  Cowgate,  the  mob  of  the 
city  everywhere  rising  at  the  sound  of  their  drum  and  join 
ing  them.    When  the  multitude  arrived  at  the  Cowgate  Portj 


Se  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

they  secured  it  with  as  little  opposition  as  the  former,  made 
it  fast,  and  left  a  small  party  to  observe  it.  It  was  after- 
wards remarked  as  a  striking  instance  of  prudence  and  pre- 
caution, singularly  combined  with  audacity,  that  the  parties 
left  to  guard  those  gates  did  not  remain  stationary  on  their 
posts,  but  flitted  to  and  fro,  keeping  so  near  the  gates  as  to 
see  that  no  efforts  were  made  to  open  them,  yet  not  remain- 
ing so  long  as  to  have  their  persons  closely  observed.  The 
mob,  at  first  only  about  one  hundred  strong,  now  amounted 
to  thousands,  and  were  increasing  every  moment.  They 
divided  themselves  so  as  to  ascend  with  more  speed  the  various 
narrow  lanes  which  lead  up  from  the  Cowgate  to  the  High 
Street ;  and  still  beating  to  arms  as  they  went,  and  calling  on 
all  true  Scotsmen  to  join  them,  they  now  filled  the  principal 
street  of  the  city. 

The  NetherlDow  Port  might  be  called  the  Temple  Bar  of 
Edinburgh,  as,  intersecting  the  High  Street  at  its  termina- 
tion, it  divided  Edinburgh,  properly  so  called,  from  the  suburb 
named  the  Canongate,  as  Temple  Bar  separates  London  from 
Westminster.  It  was  of  the  utmost  importance  to  the  rioters 
to  possess  themselves  of  this  pass,  because  there  was  quartered 
in  the  Canongate  at  that  time  a  regiment  of  infantry,  com- 
manded by  Colonel  Moyle,  which  might  have  occupied  the 
city  by  advancing  through  this  gate,  and  would  possess  the 
power  of  totally  defeating  their  purpose.  The  leaders  there- 
fore hastened  to  the  Netherbow  Port,  which  they  secured  in 
the  same  manner,  and  with  as  little  trouble,  as  the  other  gates, 
leaving  a  party  to  watch  it,  strong  in  proportion  to  the  im- 
portance of  the  post. 

The  next  object  of  these  hardy  insurgents  was  at  once  to 
disarm  the  City  Guard  and  to  procure  arms  for  themselves  ; 
for  scarce  any  weapons  but  staves  and  bludgeons  had  been  yet 
seen  among  them.  The  guard-house  was  a  long,  low,  ugly 
building  (removed  in  1787),  which  to  a  fanciful  imagination 
might  have  suggested  the  idea  of  a  long  black  snail  crawling 
up  the  middle  of  the  Higli  Street,  and  deforming  its  beautiful 
esplanade.  This  formidable  insurrection  had  been  so  unex- 
pected that  there  were  no  more  than  the  ordinary  sergeant's 
guard  of  the  city  corps  upon  duty  ;  even  these  were  without 
any  supply  of  powder  and  ball ;  and  sensible  enough  what  had 
raised  the  storm,  and  which  way  it  was  rolling,  could  hardly 
be  supposed  very  desirous  to  expose  themselves  by  a  valiant 
defence  to  the  animosity  of  so  numerous  and  desperate  a  mob, 
to  whom  they  were  on  the  present  occasion  much  more  than 
usually  obnoxiouB. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  51 

There  was  a  sentinel  upon  gnard,  who,  that  one  town 
guard  soldier  might  do  his  duty  on  that  eventful  evening, 
presented  his  piece,  and  desire'd  the  foremost  of  the  rioters  to 
stand  off.  The  young  amazon,  whom  Butler  had  observed 
particularly  active,  sprung  upon  the  soldier,  seized  his  musket, 
and  after  a  struggle  succeeded  in  wrenching  it  from  him,  and 
tiirowing  him  down  on  the  causeway.  One  or  two  soldiers, 
who  endeavored  to  turn  out  to  the  support  of  their  sentinel, 
were  in  the  same  manner  seized  and  disarmed,  and  the  mob 
without  difficulty  possessed  themselves  of  the  guard-house, 
disarming  and  turning  out-of-doors  the  rest  of  the  men  on 
duty.  It  was  remarked  that,  notwithstanding  the  city  soldiers 
had  been  the  instruments  of  the  slaughter  which  this  riot  was 
designed  to  revenge,  no  ill-usage  or  even  insult  was  offered" 
to  them.  It  seemed  as  if  the  vengeance  of  the  people  disdained 
to  stoop  at  any  head  meaner  than  that  which  they  considered 
as  the  source  and  origin  of  their  injuries. 

On  possessing  themselves  of  the  guard,  the  first  act  of  the 
multitude  was  to  destroy  the  drums,  by  which  they  supposed 
an  alarm  might  be  conveyed  to  the  garrison  in  the  Castle  ;  for 
the  same  reason  they  now  silenced  their  own,  which  was 
beaten  by  a  young  fellow,  son  to  the  drummer  of  Portsburgh, 
whom  they  had  forced  upon  that  service.  Their  next  busi- 
ness was  to  distribute  among  the  boldest  of  the  rioters  the 
guns,  bayonets,  partizans,  halberds,  and  battle  or  Lochaber 
axes.  Until  this  period  the  principal  rioters  had  preserved 
silence  on  the  ultimate  object  of  their  rising,  as  being  tliat 
which  all  knew,  but  none  expressed.  Now,  however,  having 
accomplished  all  the  preliminary  parts  of  their  design,  they 
raised  a  tremendous  shout  of  '•  Porteous  !  Porteous  !  To 
the  tolbooth  !     To  the  tolbooth  ! " 

Tliey  proceeded  with  the  same  prudence  when  the  object 
seemed  to  be  nearly  in  their  grasp  as  they  hiid  done  hitherto 
wlien  success  was  more  dubious.  A  strong  party  of  tlie  riot- 
ers, drawn  up  in  front  of  the  Luckenbooths,  and  facing  down 
the  street,  prevented  all  access  from  the  eastward,  and  the 
west  end  of  the  defile  formed  by  the  Luckenbooths  was  secured 
in  the  same  manner  ;  so  that  the  tolbooth  was  completely  sur- 
rounded, and  those  who  undertook  the  task  of  breaking  it 
open  effectually  secured  against  the  risk  of  interruption. 

The  magistrates,  in  the  meanwhile,  had  taken  the  alarm, 
and  assembled  in  a  tavern,  with  the  purpose  of  raising  some 
strength  to  subdue  the  rioters.  The  deacons,  or  presidents  of 
the  trades,  were  applied  to,  but  declared  there  was  little 
chance  of  their  authority  being  respected  by  the  craftsmen. 


52  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

where  it  was  the  object  to  save  a  man  so  obnoxious.  Mr. 
Lindsay,  member  of  parliament  for  the  city,  volunteered  the 
perilous  task  of  carrying  a  verbal  message  from  the  Lord 
Provost  to  Colonel  Moyle,  the  commander  of  the  regiment 
lying  in  the  Canongate,  requesting  him  to  force  the  Nether- 
bow  Port,  and  enter  the  city  to  put  down  the  tumult.  But 
Mr.  Lindsay  declined  to  charge  himself  with  any  written 
order,  which,  if  found  on  his  person  by  an  enraged  mob, 
might  have  cost  him  his  life  ;  and  the  issue  of  the  application 
was,  that  Colonel  Moyle,  having  no  written  requisition  from 
the  civil  authorities,  and  having  the  fate  of  Porteous  before 
his  eyes  as  an  example  of  the  severe  construction  put  by  a 
jury  on  the  proceedings  of  military  men  acting  on  their  own 
responsibility,  declined  to  encounter  the  risk  to  which  the 
Provost's  verbal  communication  invited  him. 

More  than  one  messenger  was  despatched  by  different  ways 
to  the  Castle,  to  require  the  commanding  officer  to  march 
down  his  troops,  to  fire  a  few  cannon-shot,  or  even  to  throw 
a  shell  among  the  mob,  for  the  purpose  of  clearing  the  streets. 
But  so  strict  and  watchful  were  the  various  patrols  whom  the 
rioters  had  established  in  different  parts  of  the  street,  that 
none  of  the  emissaries  of  the  magistrates  could  reach  the  gate 
of  the  Castle.  They  were,  however,  turned  back  without 
either  injury  or  insult,  and  with  nothing  more  of  menate  than 
was  necessary  to  deter  them  from  again  attempting  to  accom- 
plish their  errand. 

The  same  vigilance  was  used  to  prevent  everybody  of  the 
higher,  and  those  which,  in  this  case,  might  be  deemed  the 
more  suspicious,  orders  of  society  from  appearing  in  the  street, 
and  observing  the  movements,  or  distinguishing  the  persons, 
of  the  rioters.  Every  person  in  the  garb  of  a  gentleman  was 
stopped  by  small  parties  of  two  or  three  of  the  mob,  who 
partly  exhorted,  partly  required  of  them,  that  they  should 
return  to  the  place  from  whence  they  came.  Many  a  qua- 
drille table  was  spoiled  that  memorable  evening  ;  for  the  sedan 
chairs  of  ladies,  even  of  the  highest  rank,  were  interrupted 
in  their  passage  from  one  point  to  another,  in  despite  of  the 
laced  footmen  and  blazing  flambeaux.  This  was  uniformly 
done  with  a  deference  and  attention  to  the  feelings  of  the 
terrified  females  which  could  hardly  have  been  expected  from 
the  videttes  of  a  mob  so  desperate.  Those  who  stopped  the 
chair  usually  made  the  excuse  that  there  was  much  disturb- 
ance on  the  streets,  and  that  it  was  absolutely  necessary  for 
the  lady's  safety  that  the  chair  '^bonld  turn  back.  They 
offered  themselves  to  escort  the  vehicles  which  they  had  thus 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  53 

interrnpted  in  their  progress,  from  the  apprehension,  prob- 
ably, that  some  of  those  who  had  casually  united  themselves 
to  the  riot  might  disgrace  their  systematic  and  determined 
plan  of  vengeance,  by  those  acts  of  general  insult  and  license 
which  are  common  on  similar  occasions. 

Persons  are  yet  living  who  remember  to  have  heard  from 
the  mouths  of  ladies  thus  interrupted  on  their  journey  in  the 
manner  we  have  described,  that  they  were  escorted  to  their 
lodgings  by  the  young  men  who  stopped  them,  and  even 
handed  out  of  their  chairs,  with  a  polite  attention  far  beyond 
what  was  consistent  with  their  dress,  which  was  apparently 
that  of  journeymen  mechanics.*  It  seemed  as  if  the  conspira- 
tors, like  those  who  assassinated  the  Cardinal  Beatoun  in  for- 
mer days,  had  entertained  the  opinion  that  the  work  about 
which  they  went  was  a  judgment  of  Heaven,  which,  though 
unsanctioned  by  the  usual  authorities,  ought  to  be  proceeded 
in  with  order  and  gravity. 

While  their  outposts  continued  thus  vigilant,  and  suffered 
themselves  neither  from  fear  nor  curiosity  to  neglect  that 
part  of  the  duty  assigned  to  them,  and  while  the  main  guards 
to  the  east  and  west  secured  them  against  interruption,  a  select 
body  of  the  rioters  thundered  at  the  door  of  the  jail,  and  de- 
manded instant  admission.  No  one  answered,  for  the  outer 
keeper  had  prudently  made  his  escape  with  the  keys  at  the 
commencement  of  the  riot,  and  was  nowhere  to  be  found. 
The  door  was  instantly  assailed  with  sledge-hammers,  iron 
crows,  andihe  coulters  of  ploughs,  ready  provided  for  the  pur- 
pose, with  which  they  prized,  heaved,  and  battered  for  some 
time  with  little  effect ;  for,  being  of  double  oak  planks, 
clinched,  both  end-long  and  athwart,  with  broad-headed 
nails,  the  door  was  so  hung  and  secured  as  to  yield  to  no 
means  of  forcing,  without  the  expenditure  of  much  time. 
The  rioters,  however,  appeared  determined  to  gain  admittance. 
Gang  after  gang  relieved  each  other  at  the  exercise,  for,  of 
course,  only  a  few  could  work  at  a  time  ;  but  gang  after  gang 
retired,  exhausted  with  their  violent  exertions,  without  mak- 
ing much  progress  in  forcing  the  prison  door.  Butler  had 
been  led  up  near  to  this  the  principal  scene  of  action  ;  so  near, 
indeed,  that  he  was  almost  deafened  by  the  unceasing  clang 
of  the  heavy  fore-hammers  against  the  iron-bound  portals  of 
the  prison.  He  began  to  entertain  hopes,  as  the  task  seemed 
protracted,  that  the  populace  might  give  it  over  in  despair,  or 
that  some  rescue  might  arrive  to  disperse  them.  There  was  « 
moment  at  which  the  latter  s-eemed  probable. 

♦  See  Note  ». 


64  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

The  magistrates,  having  assembled  their  officers  and  some 
of  the  citizens  who  were  willing  to  hazard  themselves  for  the 
public  tranquillity,  now  sallied  forth  from  the  tavern  where 
they  held  their  sitting,  and  approached  the  point  of  danger. 
Their  officers  went  before  them  with  links  and  torches,  with 
a  herald  to  read  the  Kiot  Act,  if  necessary.  They  easily  drove 
before  them  the  outposts  and  videttes  of  the  rioters ;  but  when 
they  approached  the  line  of  guard  whicli  the  mob,  or  rather, 
we  should  say,  the  conspirators,  had  drawn  across  the  street 
in  the  front  of  the  Luckenbooths,  they  were  received  with  an 
unintermitted  volley  of  stones,  and,  on  their  nearer  approach, 
the  pike-;,  bayonets,  and  Lochaber  axes  of  whicli  the  populace 
had  possessed  themselves  were  presented  against  them.  One 
of  their  ordinary  officers,  a  strong  resolute  felloAV,  went  for- 
ward, seized  a  rioter,  and  took  from  him  a  musket ;  but,  be- 
ing unsupported,  he  was  instantly  thrown  on  his  back  in  the 
street,  and  disarmed  in  his  turn.  The  officer  was  too  happy 
to  be  permitted  to  rise  and  run  away  without  receiving  any 
further  injury  ;  which  afforded  another  remarkable  instance 
of  the  mode  in  which  these  men  had  united  a  sort  of  modera- 
tion towards  all  others  with  the  most  inflexible  inveteracy 
against  the  object  of  their  resentment.  The  magistrates, 
after  vain  attempts  to  make  themselves  heard  and  obeyed, 
possessing  no  means  of  enforcing  their  authority,  were  con- 
strained to  abandon  the  field  to  the  rioters,  and  retreat  in  all 
speed  from  the  showers  of  missiles  that  whistled  around  their 
ears. 

The  pasoi'.'o  resistance  of  the  tolbooth  gate  promised  to  do 
more  to  baffle  the  purpose  of  the  mob  than  the  active  inter- 
ference of  the  magistrates.  The  heavy  sledge-hammers  con- 
tinued to  din  against  it  without  intermission,  and  with  a  noise 
which,  echoed  from  tlie  lofty  buildings  around  the  spot,  seemed 
enough  to  have  alarmed  the  garrison  in  the  Castle.  It  was 
circulated  among  the  rioters  that  the  troops  v/ould  march  down 
to  disperse  them,  unless  they  could  execute  their  purpose  with- 
out loss  of  time  ;  or  that,  even  without  quitting  the  fortress, ' 
the  garrison  might  obtain  the  same  end  by  throwing  a  bomb 
or  two  upon  the  street. 

Urged  by  such  motives  for  apprehension,  they  eagerly  re- 
lieved each  other  at  tlie  labor  of  assailing  the  tolbooth  door  ; 
yet  such  Wiis  its  strength  that  it  still  defied  their  efforts.  At 
length  a  voice  was  heard  to  pronounce  the  words,  "  Try  it  with 
fire."  The  rioters,  with  a  unanimous  shout,  called  for  com- 
bustibles, and  as  all  their  wishes  seemed  to  be  instantly  supplied, 
they  were  soon  in  nossession  of  two  or  three  empty  tar-barrels, 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  56 

A  hnge  red  glaring  bonfire  speedily  arose  close  to  the  door  of 
the  prison,  sending  up  a  tall  column  of  smoke  and  flame  against 
its  antique  turrets  and  strongly  grated  windows,  and  illuminat- 
ing the  ferocious  and  wild  gestures  of  the  rioters  who  surround- 
ed the  place,  as  well  as  the  pale  and  anxious  groups  of  those 
who,  from  windows  in  the  vicinage,  watched  the  progress  of 
this  alarming  scene.  The  mob  fed  the  fire  with  whatever  they 
could  find  fit  for  the  purpose.  The  flames  roared  and  crackled 
among  the  heaps  of  nourishment  piled  on  the  fire,  and  a  terrible 
shout  soon  announced  that  the  door  had  kindled,  and  was  in 
the  act  of  being  destroyed.  The  fire  was  suffered  to  decay, 
but  long  ere  it  was  quite  extinguished  the  most  forward  of 
the  rioters  rushed,  in  their  impntience,  one  after  another,  over 
its  yet  smoldering  remains.  Thick  showers  of  sparkles  rose 
hio-li  in  the  air  as  man  after  man  bounded  over  the  glowing 
embers  and  disturbed  them  in  their  passage.  It  was  now  ob- 
vious to  Butler  and  all  others  who  were  present  that  the 
rioters  would  be  instantly  in  possession  of  their  victim,  and 
have  it  in  their  power  to  work  their  pleasure  upon  him,  what- 
ever that  might  be.  * 

*  See  The  Old  Tolbooth.    Note  10. 


CHAPTER  VII 

The  evil  you  teach  us,  we  will  execute  ;  and  it  shall  go  hard 
but  we  will  better  the  instruction. 

Merchant  of  Venice. 

The  unhappy  object  of  this  remarkable  disturbance  had  been 
that  day  delivered  from  the  apprehension  of  a  public  execu- 
tion, and  his  joy  was  the  greater,  as  he  had  some  reason  to 
question  whether  government  would  have  run  the  risk  of  un- 
popularity by  interfering  in  his  favor,  after  he  had  been  legally 
convicted,  by  the  verdict  of  a  jury,  of  a  crime  so  very  obnox- 
ious. Eelieved  from  this  doubtful  state  of  mind,  his  heart 
was  merry  within  him,  and  he  thought,  in  the  emphatic  words 
of  Scripture  on  a  similar  occasion,  that  surely  the  bitterner,s 
of  death  was  past.  Some  of  his  friends,  however,  who  had 
watched  the  manner  and  behavior  of  the  crowd  when  they 
were  made  acquainted  with  the  reprieve,  were  of  a  different 
opinion.  They  augured,  from  the  unusual  sternness  and  silence 
with  which  tliey  bore  their  disappointment,  that  the  populace 
nourished  some  scheme  of  sudden  and  desperate  vengeance  ; 
and  they  advised  Porteous  to  lose  no  time  in  petitioning  the 
proper  authorities  that  he  might  be  conveyed  to  the  Castle 
under  a  sufficient  guard,  to  remain  there  in  security  until  his 
ultimate  fate  should  be  determined.  Habituated,  however, 
by  his  office  to  overawe  the  rabble  of  the  city,  Porteous  could 
not  suspect  them  of  an  attemj^t  so  audacious  as  to  storm  a 
strong  and  defensible  prison  ;  and,  despising  the  advice  by 
which  he  might  have  been  saved,  he  spent  the  afternoon  of 
the  eventful  day  in  giving  an  entertainment  to  some  friends 
who  visited  him  in  jail,  several  of  whom,  by  the  indulgence 
of  the  captain  of  the  tolbooth,  with  whom  he  had  an  old  inti- 
macy, ai'ising  from  their  official  connection,  were  even  per- 
mitted to  remain  to  supper  with  him,  though  contrary  to  the 
rules  of  the  jail. 

It  was,  therefore,  in  the  hour  of  unalloyed  mirth,  when 
this  unfortunate  wretch  was  "'full  of  bread,"  hot  with  wine, 

56 


IHE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  57 

and  high  in  mistimed  and  ill-grounded  confidence,  and,  alas  ! 
with  ail  his  sins  full  blown,  when  the  first  distant  shouts  of 
the  rioters  mingled  with  the  song  of  merriment  and  intem- 
perance. The  hurried  call  of  the  jailer  to  the  guests,  requir- 
ing them  instantly  to  depart,  and  his  yet  more  hasty  ioti- 
mation  that  a  dreadful  and  determined  mob  had  possessed 
themselves  of  the  city  gates  and  guard-house,  were  the  first 
explanation  of  these  fearful  clamors. 

Porteous  might,  however,  have  eluded  the  fury  from  which 
the  force  of  authority  could  not  protect  him,  had  he  thought 
of  slipping  on  some  disguise  and  leaving  the  prison  along  Avith 
his  guests.  It  is  probable  that  the  jailer  might  have  con- 
nived at  his  escape,  or  even  that,  in  the  hurry  of  this  alarm- 
ing contingency,  he  might  not  have  observed  it.  But  Por- 
teous and  his  friends  alike  wanted  presence  of  mind  to  suggest 
or  execute  such  a  plan  of  escape.  The  latter  hastily  fled  from 
a  place  where  their  own  safety  seemed  compromised,  and  the 
former,  in  a  state  resembling  stupefaction,  awaited  in  his 
apartment  the  terminatioii  of  the  enterprise  of  the  rioters. 
The  cessation  of  the  clang  of  the  instruments  with  which  they 
had  at  first  attempted  to  force  the  door  gave  him  momentary 
relief.  The  flattering  hopes  that  the  military  had  marched 
into  the  city,  either  from  the  Castle  or  from  the  suburbs,  and 
that  the  rioters  were  intimidated  and  dispersing,  were  soon 
destroyed  by  the  broad  and  glaring  light  of  the  flames,  which, 
illuminating  through  the  grated  window  every  corner  of  his 
apartment,  plainly  showed  that  the  mob,  determined  on  their 
fatal  purpose,  had  adopted  a  means  of  forcing  entrance 
equally  desperate  and  certain. 

The  sudden  glare  of  light  suggested  to  the  stupefied  and 
astonished  object  of  popular  hatred  the  possibility  of  conceal- 
ment or  escape.  To  rush  to  the  chimney,  to  ascend  it  at  the 
risk  of  suffocation,  were  the  only  means  which  seem  to  have 
occurred  to  him ;  but  his  progress  was  speedily  stopped  by 
one  of  those  iron  gratings  which  are,  for  the  sake  of  security, 
usually  placed  across  the  vents  of  buildings  designed  for  im- 
prisonment. The  bars,  however,  which  impeded  his  further 
progress  served  to  support  him  in  the  situation  which  he  had 
gained,  and  he  seized  them  with  the  tenacious  grasp  of  one  who 
esteemed  himself  clinging  to  his  last  hope  of  existence.  The 
lurid  light  which  had  filled  the  apartment  lowered  and  died 
away  ;  the  sound  of  shouts  was  heard  within  the  walls,  and 
on  the  narrow  and  winding  stair,  which,  cased  within  one  of 
the  turrets,  gave  access  to  the  upper  apartments  of  the  prison. 
The  huzza  of  the  rioters  was  answered  by  a  shout  wild  and  des- 


58  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

perate  as  their  own,  the  cry,  namely,  of  the  imprisoned  fel- 
ons, who,  expecting  to  be  liberated  in  the  general  confusion, 
welcomed  the  mob  as  their  deliverers.  By  some  of  these  the 
apartment  of  Porteous  was  pointed  out  to  his  enemies.  The 
obstacle  of  the  lock  and  bolts  was  soon  overcome,  and  from 
his  hiding-place  the  unfortunate  man  heard  his  enemies  search 
every  corner  of  the  apartment,  with  oaths  and  maledictions, 
which  would  but  shock  the  reader  if  we  recorded  them,  but 
which  served  to  prove,  could  it  have  admitted  of  doubt,  the 
settled  purpose  of  soul  with  which  tliey  sought  his  destruc- 
tion. 

A  place  of  concealment  so  obvious  to  suspicion  and  scru- 
tiny as  that  which  Porteous  had  chosen  could  not  long  screen 
him  from  detection.  He  was  dragged  from  his  lurking-place, 
with  a  violence  which  seemed  to  argue  an  intention  to  put  him 
to  death  on  the  spot.  More  than  one  weapon  was  directed 
towards  him,  vv^hen  one  of  the  rioters,  the  same  whose  female 
disguise  had  been  particularly  noticed  by  Butler,  interfered  in 
an  authoritative  tone.  "Are  ye  mad  ?"  he  said,  '•'  or  would 
ye  execute  an  act  of  justice  as  if  it  were  a  crime  and  a  cru- 
elty ?  This  sacrifice  will  lose  half  its  savor  if  we  do  not  offer 
it  at  the  very  horns  of  the  altar.  We  will  have  him  die 
where  a  murderer  should  die,  on  the  common  gibbet.  We 
will  have  him  die  where  he  spilled  the  blood  of  so  many  in- 
nocents ! " 

A  loud  shout  of  applause  followed  the  jjroposal,  and  the 
cry,  ''  To  the  gallows  with  the  murderer  !  To  the  Grass- 
market  with  him  !  "  echoed  on  all  hands. 

"  Let  no  man  hurt  him,^'  continued  the  speaker  ;  "  let  him 
make  his  peace  with  God,  if  he  can  ;  we  will  not  kill  both  his 
soul  and  body.'" 

"  What  time  did  he  give  better  folk  for  preparing  their  ac- 
count ?  "  answered  several  voices. "  Let  us  mete  to  him  with 
the  same  measure  he  measured  to  them." 

But  the  opinion  of  the  spokesman  better  suited  the  temper 
of  those  he  addressed,  a  temper  rather  stubborn  than  impetu- 
ous, sedate  though  ferocious,  and  desirous  of  coloring  their 
cruel  and  revengeful  action  with  a  show  of  justice  and  moder- 
ation. 

For  an  instant  this  man  quitted  the  prisoner,  whom  he 
consigned  to  a  selected  guard,  with  instructions  to  permit  him 
to  give  his  money  and  property  to  whomsoever  he  pleased.  A 
person  confined  in  the  jail  for  debt  received  this  last  deposit  from 
the  trembling  hand  of  the  victim,  who  was  at  the  same  time 
permitted  to  make  some  other  brief  arrangements  to  meet  his 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  60 

approaching  fate.  The  felons,  and  all  others  who  wished  to 
leave  the  jail,  were  now  at  full  liberty  to  do  so  ;  not  that  their 
liberation  made  any  part  of  the  settled  purpose  of  the  rioters, 
but  it  followed  as  almost  a  necessary  consequence  of  forcing 
the  jail  doors.  With  wild  cries  of  jubilee  they  joined  the  mob, 
or  disappeared  among  the  narrow  lanes  to  seek  out  the  hidden 
receptacles  of  vice  and  infamy  Avhere  they  were  accustomed  to 
lurk  and  conceal  themselves  from  justice. 

Two  persons,  a  man  about  fifty  years  old  and  a  girl  about 
eighteen,  were  all  who  continued  within  the  fatal  walls,  ex- 
cepting two  or  three  debtors,  who  probably  saw  no  advantage 
in  attempting  tiieir  escape.  The  persons  we  have  mentioned 
remained  in  the  strong-room  of  the  prison,  now  deserted  by  all 
others.  One  of  their  late  companions  in  misfortune  called  out 
to  the  man  to  make  his  escape,  in  the  tone  of  an  acquaintance. 
"  Rin  for  it,  Ratcliffe  ;  the  road's  clear.'' 

"  It  may  be  sae,  Willie,"  answered  Eatcliffe,  composedly, 
"  but  I  have  taen  a  fancy  to  leave  aff  trade,  and  set  up  for  an 
honest  man." 

'*'  Stay  there  and  be  hanged,  then,  for  a  donnard  anld 
deevil  !  "  said  the  other,  and  ran  down  the  prison  stair. 

The  person  in  female  attire  whom  we  have  distinguished 
as  one  of  the  most  active  rioters  was  about  the  same  time  at 
the  ear  of  the  young  woman.  "Flee,  Eflie,  flee!"  was  all 
he  had  time  to  whisper.  She  turned  towards  him  an  eye  of 
mingled  fear,  affection,  and  upbraiding,  all  contending  with 
a  sort  of  stupefied  surprise.  He  again  repeated,  '*  Flee,  EflSe, 
flee,  for  the  sake  of  all  that's  good  and  dear  to  you  ! "  Again 
she  gazed  on  him,  but  was  unable  to  answer.  A  loud  noise 
was  now  heard,  and  the  name  of  Madge  Wildfire  was  repeatedly 
called  from  the  bottom  of  the  staircase. 

'*'  I  am  coming — I  am  coming,"  said  the  person  who  an- 
swered to  that  appellative  ;  and  then  reiterating  hastily,  ''For 
God's  sake — for  your  own  sake — for  my  sake,  flee,  or  they'll 
take  your  life  !  "  he  left  the  strong-room. 

The  girl  gazed  after  him  for  a  moment,  and  then  faintly 
muttering,  "  Better  tyne  life,  since  tint  is  gude  fame,"  she 
Bunk  her  head  upon  her  hand,  and  remained  seemingly  un- 
conscious as  a  statue  of  the  noise  and  tumult  which  passed 
around  her. 

That  tumult  was  now  transferred  from  the  inside  to  the 
outside  of  the  tolbooth.  The  mob  had  brought  their  destined 
victim  forth,  and  were  about  to  conduct  him  to  the  common 
place  of  execution,  which  they  had  fixed  as  the  scene  of  his 
death.     The  leader  whom  they  distinguished  by  the  name  of 


60  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

Madge  Wildfire  had  been  summoned  to  assist  at  the  proces- 
sion by  the  impatient  shouts  of  his  confederates. 

"  I  will  insure  you  five  hundred  pounds/'  said  the  un- 
happy man,  grasping  Wildfire's  hand — "five  hundred  pounds 
for  to  save  my  life." 

The  other  answered  in  the  same  undertone,  and  return- 
ing his  grasp  with  one  equally  convulsive,  "  Five  hundred- 
weight of  coined  gold  should  not  save  you.  Remember 
Wilson  ! " 

A  deep  pause  of  a  minute  ensued,  when  Wildfire  added, 
in  a  more  composed  tone,  "  Make  your  peace  with  Heaven. 
Where  is  the  clergyman  ?  " 

Butler,  who,  in  great  terror  and  anxiety,  had  been  de- 
tained within  a  few  yards  of  the  tolbooth  door,  to  wait  the 
event  of  the  search  after  Porteous,  was  now  brought  forward 
and  commanded  to  walk  by  the  prisoner's  side,  and  to  prej^are 
him  for  immediate  death.  His  answer  was  a  supplication  that 
the  rioters  would  consider  what  they  did.  "You  are  neither 
Judges  nor  jury,"  said  he.  "  You  cannot  have,  by  the  laws 
of  God  or  man,  power  to  take  away  the  life  of  a  human  creat- 
ure, however  deserving  he  may  be  of  death.  If  it  is  murder 
even  in  a  lawful  magistrate  to  execute  an  offender  otherwise 
than  in  the  place,  time,  and  manner  which  the  judges'  sen- 
tence prescribes,  what  must  it  be  in  you,  who  have  no  warrant 
for  interference  but  your  own  wills  ?  In  the  name  of  Him 
who  is  all  mercy,  show  mercy  to  this  unhappy  man,  and  do 
not  dip  your  hands  in  his  blood,  nor  rush  into  the  very  crime 
which  you  "are  desirous  of  avenging  ! " 

"  Cut  your  sermon  short,  you  are  not  in  your  pulpit,"  an- 
swered one  of  the  rioters. 

"If  we  hear  more  of  y^ur  clavers,"said  another,  "we  are 
like  to  hang  you  up  beside  him." 

"Peace  !  hush  !"  said  Wildfire.  "Do  the  good  man  no 
harm  ;  he  discharges  his  conscience,  and  I  like  him  the  bet- 
ter." 

He  then  addressed  Butler.  "  Now,  sir,  we  have  patiently 
heard  you,  and  we  Just  wish  you  to  understand,  in  the  way  of 
an-swer,  that  you  may  as  well  argue  to  the  ashler-work  and 
iron  stanchels  of  the  tolbooth  as  think  to  change  our  purpose. 
Blood  must  have  blood.  We  have  sworn  to  each  other  by  the 
deepest  oaths  ever  were  pledged,  that  Porteus  shall  die  the 
death  he  deserves  so  richly  ;  therefore,  speak  no  more  to  us, 
but  prepare  him  for  death  as  well  as  the  briefness  of  his  change 
will  permit." 

They  had  suffered  the  unfortunate  Porteous  to  put  on  his 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  61 

night-gown  and  slippers,  as  he  had  thrown  oflE  his  coat  and  shoes 
in  order  to  facilitate  his  attempted  escape  up  the  chimney.  In 
this  garb  he  was  now  mounted  on  the  liands  of  two  of  the 
rioters,  clasped  together,  so  as  to  form  what  is  called  in  Scot- 
land "  The  King's  Cushion."  Butler  was  placed  close  to  his 
side,  and  repeatedly  urged  to  perform  a  duty  always  the  most 
painful  which  can  be  imposed  on  a  clergyman  deserving  of 
tiie  name,  and  now  rendered  more  so  by  the  peculiar  and  hor- 
rid circumstances  of  the  criminal's  case.  Porteous  at  first 
uttered  some  supplications  for  mercy,  butAvhen  he  found  that 
there  was  no  chance  that  these  would  be  attended  to,  his  mil- 
itary education,  and  the  natural  stubbornness  of  his  disposi- 
tion, combined  to  supjDort  his  spirits. 

"  Are  you  prepared  for  this  dreadful  end  ? ''  said  Butler, 
in  a  faltering  voice.  "  0  turn  to  Him  in  whose  eyes  time 
and  space  have  no  existence,  and  to  whom  a  few  minutes  are 
as  a  lifetime,  and  a  lifetime  as  a  minute." 

''I  believe  I  know  what  you  would  say,"  answered  Porte- 
ous, sullenly.  "  I  was  bred  a  soldier  ;  if  they  will  murder 
me  without  time,  let  my  sins  as  well  as  my  blood  lie  at  their 
door." 

"•  Who  was  it,"  said  the  stern  voice  of  Wildfire,  "that  said 
to  Wilson  at  this  very  spot,  when  he  could  not  pray,  owing  to 
the  galling  agony  of  his  fetters,  that  his  pains  would  soon  be 
over  ?  I  say  to  you,  take  your  own  tale  home  ;  and  if  you 
cannot  profit  by  the  good  man's  lessons,  blame  not  them  that 
are  still  more  merciful  to  you  than  you  were  to  others." 

The  procession  now  moved  forward  with  a  slow  and  deter- 
mined pace.  It  was  enlightened  by  many  blazing  links  and 
torches  ;  for  the  actors  of  this  work  were  so  far  from  affecting 
any  secrecy  on  .the  occasion  that  they  seemed  even  to  court 
observation.  Their  principal  leaders  kept  close  to  the  person 
of  tiie  prisoner,  whose  pallid  yet  stubborn  features  were  seen 
distinctly  by  the  torch-light,  as  his  person  Avas  raised  consider- 
ably above  the  concourse  which  thronged  around  him.  Those 
who  bore  swords,  muskets,  and  battle-axes  marched  on  eacii 
side,  as  if  forming  a  regular  guard  to  the  procession.  The 
windows,  as  they  went  along,  were  filled  with  the  inhabitants, 
whose  slumbers  had  been  broken  by  this  unusual  disturbance. 
Some  of  the  spectators  muttered  accents  of  encouragement , 
but  in  general  they  were  so  much  appalled  by  a  sight  so  strange 
and  audacious,  that  they  looked  on  with  a  sort  of  stupefied 
sistonisliment.  No  one  offered,  by  act  or  word,  the  slightest 
interruption. 

The  rioters,  on  their  part,  continued  to  act  with  the  same 


e2  WAVER  LEY  NOVELS 

air  of  deHberate  confidence  and  security  which  had  marked 
all  their  proceedings.  When  the  object  of  their  resentment 
dropped  one  of  his  slippers,  they  stopped,  sought  for  it,  and 
replaced  it  upon  his  foot  witli  great  deliberation.*  As  they 
descended  the  Bow  towards  the  fatal  spot  where  they  designed 
to  complete  their  purpose,  it  was  suggested  that  there  should 
be  a  rope  kept  in  readiness.  For  this  purpose  the  booth  of  a 
man  who  dealt  in  cordage  was  forced  open,  a  coil  of  rope 
fit  for  their  purpose  was  selected  to  serve  as  a  halter,  and  the 
dealer  next  morning  found  that  a  guinea  had  been  left  on  his 
counter  in  exchange  ;  so  anxious  were  the  perpetrators  of  this 
daring  action  to  show  that  they  meditated  not  the  slightest 
wrong  for  infraction  of  law,  excepting  so  far  as  Porteous  was 
himself  concerned. 

Leading,  or  carrying  along  with  them,  in  this  determined 
and  regular  manner,  the  object  of  their  vengeance,  they  at 
length  reached  the  place  of  common  execution,  the  scene  of 
his  crime,  and  destined  spot  of  his  sufferings.  Several  of  the 
rioters  (if  they  should  not  rather  be  described  as  conspirators) 
endeavored  to  remove  the  stone  which  filled  up  the  socket  in 
which  the  end  of  the  fatal  tree  was  su7ik  when  it  was  erected 
for  its  fatal  purpose  ;  others  sought  for  the  means  of  con- 
structing a  temporary  gibbet,  the  place  in  which  the  gallon's 
itself  was  deposited  being  reported  too  secure  to  be  forced, 
without  much  loss  of  time. 

Butler  endeavored  to  avail  himself  of  the  delay  afforded  by 
these  circumstances  to  turn  the  people  from  their  desperate 
design.  ''For  Grod's  sake,"  he  exclaimed,  '^ remember  it  is 
the  image  of  your  Creator  which  you  are  about  to  deface  in 
the  person  of  this  unfortunate  man  !  Wretched  as  he  is,  and 
wicked  as  lie  may  be,  he  has  a  shai^  in  every  promise  of  Scrip- 
ture, and  you  cannot  destroy  him  in  impenitence  without 
blotting  his  name  from  the  Book  of  Life.  Do  not  destroy 
soul  and  body  ;  give  time  for  preparation." 

"  What  time  had  they,"  returned  a  stern  voice,  "  whom 
he  murdered  on  this  very  spot  ?  The  laws  both  of  God  and 
man  call  for  his  death." 

''But  what,  my  friends,"  insisted  Butler,  with  a  generous 
disregard  to  his  own  safety — "  what  hath  constituted  you  his 
judges  ?" 

"We  are  not  his  judges,"  replied  the  same  person  ;  ''he 
has  been  already  judged  and  condemned  by  lawful  authority. 
We  are  those  whom  Heaven,  and  our  righteous  anger,  have 

*  This  litUe  incident,  characteristic  of  the  extreme  composure  of  this  extraor- 
dinary mob,  was  witnessed  by  a  lady  who,  disturbed,  like  others,  from  her  slum- 
bers, had  gone  to  the  window.    It  w^s  told  to  the  Author  by  the  lady's  daughter. 


THE  HE^^lRT  of  MIDLOTHIAN  68 

stirred  up  to  execute  judgment,  when  a  corrupt  government 
would  have  protected  a  murderer." 

"\  am  none/'  said  the  unfortunate  Porteous ;  ''that 
which  you  charge  upon  me  fell  out  in  self-defence,  in  the 
lawful  exercise  of  my  duty." 

"Away  with  him — away  with  him  !"  was  the  general  cry. 
''Why  do  you  trifle  away  time  in  making  a  gallows?  that 
dyester's  pole  is  good  enough  for  the  homicide. 

The  unhappy  man  was  forced  to  his  fate  with  remorseless 
rapidity.  Butler,  separated  from  him  by  the  press,  escaped 
the  last  horrors  of  his  struggles.  Unnoticed  by  those  who 
had  hitherto  detained  him  as  a  prisoner,  he  fled  from  the  fatal 
spot,  without  much  caring  in  what  direction  his  course  lay. 
A  loud  shout  proclaimed  the  stern  delight  with  which  the 
agents  of  this  deed  regarded  its  completion.  Butler  then,  at 
the  opening  into  the  Ioav  street  called  the  Cowgate,  cast  back 
a  terrified  glance,  and  by  the  red  and  dusky  light  of  the  torches 
he  could  discern  a  figure  wavering  and  struggling  as  it  hung 
suspended  above  the  heads  of  the  multitude,  and  could  even 
observe  men  striking  at  it  with  their  Lochaber  axes  and  parti- 
zans.  The  sight  was  of  a  nature  to  double  his  horror  and  to 
add  wings  to  his  flight. 

The  street  down  which  the  fugitive  ran  opens  to  one  of 
the  eastern  ports  or  gates  of  the  city.  Butler  did  net  stop  till 
he  reached  it,  but  found  it  still  shut.  He  waited  nearly  an 
hour,  walking  up  and  down  in  inexpressible  perturbation  of 
mind.  At  length  he  ventured  to  call  out  and  rouse  the  atten- 
tion of  the  terrified  keepers  of  the  gate,  who  now  found  them- 
selves at  liberty  to  resume  their  office  without  interruption. 
Butler  requested  them  to  open  the  gate.  They  hesitated.  He 
told  them  his  name  and  occupation. 

"He  is  a  preacher," said  one  ;  "I  have  heard  liim  preach 
in  Haddo's  Hole." 

"  A  fine  preaching  has  he  been  at  the  night,"  said  another ; 
'*  but  maybe  least  said  is  sunest  mended." 

Opening  then  the  wicket  of  the  main  gate,  the  keepers 
suffered  Butler  to  depart,  who  hastened  to  carry  his  horror 
and  fear  beyond  the  walls  of  Edinburgh.  His  first  purpose 
was  instantly  to  take  the  road  homeward  ;  but  other  fears 
and  cares,  connected  with  the  news  he  had  learned  in  that  re- 
markable day,  induced  him  to  linger  in  the  neighborhood  of 
Edinburgh  until  daybreak.  More  than  one  group  of  persons 
passed  him  as  he  was  whiling  away  the  hours  of  darkness  that 
yet  remained,  whom,  from  the  stifled  tones  of  their  discourse, 
the  unwonted  hour  when  they  travelled,  and  the  hasty  pac« 


64  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

at  whici\  they  walked,  he  conjectured  to  have  been  engaged  in 

the  late  fatal  transaction. 

Certain  it  was,  that  the  sudden  and  total  dispersion  of 
the  rioter:,  \7hen  their  vindictive  purpose  was  accomplislied, 
seemed  not  the  least  remarkable  feature  of  this  singular  affair. 
In  geu"  ral,  whatever  may  be  the  impelling  motive  by  which  a 
mob  13  at  first  raised,  the  attainment  of  their  object  has 
usually  been  only  found  to  lead  the  way  to  further  excesses. 
But  not  so  in  the  present  case.  They  seemed  completely  sati- 
ated with  the  vengeance  they  had  prosecuted  with  such  stanch 
and  sagacious  activity.  When  they  were  fully  satisfied  that 
life  had  abandoned  their  victim,  they  dispersed  in  every  di- 
rection, throwing  down  the  weapons  which  they  had  only  as- 
sumed to  enable  them  to  carry  through  their  purpose.  At 
daybreak  there  remained  not  the  least  token  of  the  events  of 
the  night,  excepting  the  corpse  of  Porteous,  which  still  hung 
suspended  in  the  place  where  he  had  suffered,  and  the  arms 
of  various  kinds  which  the  rioters  had  taken  from  the  City 
Guard-house,  which  were  found  scattered  about  the  streets  as 
they  had  tlirown  them  from  their  hands,  when  the  purpose  for 
which  they  had  seized  them  was  accomplished.* 

The  ordinary  magistrates  of  the  city  resumed  their  power, 
not  without  trembling  at  the  late  experience  of  the  fragility 
of  its  tenure.  To  march  troops  into  the  city,  and  commence 
a  severe  inquiry  into  the  transactions  of  the  preceding  night, 
were  the  first  marks  of  returning  energy  which  they  displayed. 
But  these  events  had  been  conducted  on  so  secure  and  well- 
calculated  a  plan  of  safety  and  secrecy,  that  there  was  little 
or  nothing  learned  to  throw  light  upon  the  authors  or  prin- 
cipal actors  in  a  scheme  so  audacious.  An  express  was  de- 
spatched to  London  with  the  tidings,  where  they  excited  great 
indignation  and  surprise  in  the  council  of  regency,  and  par- 
ticularly in  the  bosom  of  Queen  Caroline,  who  considered  her 
own  authority  as  exposed  to  contempt  by  the  success  of  this 
singular  conspiracy.  Nothing  was  spoke  of  for  some  time  save 
the  measure  of  vengeance  which  should  be  taken,  not  only  on 
the  actors  of  this  tragedy,  so  soon  as  they  should  be  discovered, 
but  upon  the  magistrates  who  had  suffered  it  to  take  place, 
and  upon  the  city  which  had  been  the  scene  where  it  was  ex- 
hibited. On  this  occasion,  it  is  still  recorded  in  popular  tra- 
dition that  her  Majesty,  in  the  height  of  her  displeasure,  told 
the  celebrated  John,  Duke  of  Argyle,  that,  sooner  than  submit 
to  such  an  insult,  she  would  make  Scotland  a  hunting-field. 
**In  that  case,  Mr.dam,"  answered  that  high-spirited  noble- 

^''SeaXte  iiMuer  of  Captain  Porteous.    Note  11. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  65 

man,  with  a  profound  bow,  "  I  will  take  leave  of  your  Maj- 
esty, and  go  down  to  my  own  country  to  get  my  hounds 
ready/' 

The  import  of  the  reply  had  more  than  met  the  ear  ;  and 
as  most  of  the  Scottish  nobility  and  gentry  seemed  actuated 
by  the  same  national  spirit,  the  royal  displeasure  was  neces- 
sarily checked  in  mid- volley,  and  milder  courses  were  recom- 
mended and  adopted,  to  some  of  which  we  may  hereafter  have 
Dccasion  to  advert. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

Arthur's  Seat  shall  be  my  bed, 
The  sheets  shall  ne'er  be  press'd  by  mt 

St.  Anton's  well  shall  be  my  drink, 
Sin'  my  true-love's  forsaken  me. 

Old  Song. 

If  I  were  to  choose  a  spot  from  wliicli  the  rising  or  setting  sun 
could  be  seen  to  the  greatest  possible  advantage,  it  would  be 
that  wild  path  winding  around  the  foot  of  the  high  belt  of 
semicircular  rocks  called  Salisbury  Crags,  and  marking  the 
verge  of  the  steep  descent  which  slopes  down  into  the  glen  on 
the  south-eastern  side  of  the  city  of  Edinburgh.  The  pros- 
pect, in  its  general  outline,  commands  a  close-built,  high-piled 
city,  stretching  itself  out  beneath  in  a  form  which,  to  a  ro- 
mantic imagination,  may  be  supposed  to  represent  that  of  a 
dragon  ;  now  a  noble  arm  of  the  sea,  with  its  rocks,  isles, 
distant  shores,  and  b.oundary  of  mountains  ;  and  now  a  fair 
and  fertile  champaign  country,  varied  with  hill,  dale,  and 
rock,  and  skirted  by  the  picturesque  ridge  of  the  Pentland 
Mountains.  But  as  the  path  gently  circles  around  the  base 
of  the  cliffs,  the  prospect,  composed  as  it  is  of  these  enchant- 
ing and  sublime  objects,  changes  at  every  step,  and  presents 
them  blended  with,  or  divided  from,  each  other  in  every  pos- 
sible variety  which  can  gratify  the  eye  and  the  imagination. 
When  a  piece  of  scenery  so  beautiful,  yet  so  varied,  so  excit- 
ing by  its  intricacy,  and  yet  so  sublime,  is  lighted  up  by  the 
tints  of  morning  or  of  evening,  and  displays  all  that  variety 
of  shadowy  depth,  exchanged  with  partial  brilliancy,  which 
gives  character  even  to  the  tamest  of  landscapes,  the  effect 
approaches  near  to  enchantment.  This  path  jised  to  be  my 
favorite  evening  and  morning  resort,  when  engaged  with  a 
favorite  author  or  new  subject  of  study.  It  is,  I  am  informed, 
now  become  totally  impassable,  a  circumstance  which,  if  true, 
reflects  little  credit  on  the  taste  of  the  Good  Town  or  its 
leaders.  * 

*  A  beautiful  and  solid  pathway  has,  within  a  few  years,  been  formed  around 
these  romantic  rocks  ;  and  the  Author  lias  the  pleasure  to  think  that  the  passage 
in  the  text  gave  rise  to  the  undercaking. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  67 

It  was  from  this  fascinating  path — the  scene  to  me  of  so 
much  delicious  musing,  when  life  was  young  and  promised  to 
be  happy,  that  I  have  been  unable  to  pass  it  over  without  an 
episodical  description — it  was,  I  say,  from  this  romantic  path 
that  Butler  saw  the  morning  arise  the  day  after  the  murder  of 
Porteous.  It  was  possible  for  him  with  ease  to  have  found 
a  much  shorter  road  to  the  house  to  which  he  was  directing 
his  course,  and,  in  fact,  that  which  he  chose  was  extremely 
circuitous.  But  to  compose  his  own  spirits,  as  well  as  to  while 
away  the  time,  until  a  proper  hour  for  visiting  the  family  with- 
out surprise  or  disturbance,  he  was  induced  to  extend  his  cir- 
cuit by  the  foot  of  the  rocks,  and  to  linger  upon  his  way  un- 
til the  morning  should  be  considerably  advanced.  While,  now 
standing  with  his  arms  across  and  waiting  the  slow  progress 
of  the  sun  above  the  horizon,  now  sitting  upon  one  of  the 
numerous  fragments  which  storms  had  detached  from  the 
rocks  above  him,  he  is  meditating  alternately  uj)on  the  horri- 
ble catastrophe,  which  he  had.  witnessed,  and  upon  the  melan- 
choly, and  to  him  most  interesting,  news  which  he  had  learned 
at  Saddletree's,  we  will  give  the  reader  to  understand  who 
Butler  was,  and  how  his  fafe  was  connected  with  t1uit  of  Effie 
Deans,  the  unfortunate  li^ndmaiden  of  the  careful  Mrs.  Sad- 
dletree, m^- 

Reuben  Butler  was  -^English  extraction,  though  born  in 
Scotland.  His  grandfaiher  ^^-s  a  trooper  in  Monk's  army, 
and  one  of  the  party  of  dismounted  dragoons  which  formed 
the  forlorn  hope  at  the  storming  of  Dundee  in  1651.  Stephen 
Butler  (called,  from  his  talents  in  reading  and  expounding, 
Scripture  Stephen  and  Bible  Butler)  was  a  stanch  Indejjend- 
ent,  and  received  in  its  fullest  comprehension  the  promise  that 
the  saints  should  inherit  tlie  earth.  As  hard  knocks  were 
what  had  chiefly  fallen  to  his  share  hitherto  in  the  division  of 
this  common  property,  he  lost  not  the  opportunity,  which  the 
storm  and  plunder  of  a  commercial  place  afforded  him,  to  ap- 
propriate as  large  a  share  of  the  better  things  of  this  world  as 
he  could  possibly  compass.  It  would  seem  that  he  had  suc- 
ceeded indifferently  well,  for  his  exterior  circumstances  ap- 
peared, in  consequence  of  this  event,  to  have  been  much 
mended. 

The  troop  to  which  he  belonged  was  quartered  at  the  vil- 
lage of  Dalkeith,  as  forming  the  body-guard  of  Monk,  who,  in 
the  capacity  of  general  for  the  Commonwealth,  resided  in  the 
neighboring  castle.  When,  on  the  eve  of  the  Eestoration,  the 
general  commenced  his  march  from  Scotland,  a  measure  preg- 
nant with  such  important  consequences,  he  new-modelled  his 


68  WAVEELEV  NOVELS 

troops,  and  inure  especially  those  immediately  about  his  per- 
son, in  order  that  they  might  consist  chiefly  of  individuals 
devoted  to  himself.  On  this  occasion  Scripture  Stephen  was 
weighed  in  the  balance  and  found  wanting.  It  was  supjDOsed 
he  felt  no  call  to  any  expedition  which  might  endanger  the 
reign  of  tiie  military  sainthood,  and  that  he  did  not  consider 
himself  as  free  in  conscience  to  join  with  any  party  which 
might  be  likely  ultimately  to  acknowledge  the  interest  of 
Charles  Stuart,  the  son  of  "^  the  last  man,"  as  Charles  I.  w^s 
familiarly  and  irreverently  termed  by  them  in  their  common 
discourse,  as  well  as  in  their  more  elaborate  predications  and 
harangues.  As  the  time  did  not  admit  of  cashiering  such  dis- 
sidents, Stephen  Butler  was  only  advised  in  a  friendly  way  to 
give  up  his  horse  and  accoutrements  to  one  of  Middleton's  old 
troopers,  who  possessed  an  accommodating  conscience  of  a 
military  stamp,  and  which  squared  itself  chiefly  upon  those  of 
the  colonel  and  paymaster.  As  this  hint  came  recommended 
by  a  certain  sum  of  arrears  presently  payable,  Stephen  had 
carnal  wisdom  enough  to  embrace-  the  proposal,  and  with 
great  indifference  saw  his  old  corps  depart  for  Coldstream,  on 
their  route  for  the  south,  to  establish  the  tottering  govern- 
ment of  England  on  a  new  basis. 

The  "zone"  of  the  ex-trooper^^to  use  Horace's  phrase, 
was  weighty  enough  to  purchase  a  cottage  and  two  or  three 
fields  (still  known  by  the  name  of  Beersheba),  within  about 
a  Scottish  mile  of  Dalkeith  ;  and  there  did  Stephen  establish 
himself  with  a  youthful  helpmate,  chosen  out  of  the  said  vil- 
lage, whose  disposition  to  a  comfortable  settlement  on  this 
side  of  the  grave  recojiciled  her  to  the  gruff  manners,  serious 
temper,  and  weather-beaten  features  of  the  martial  enthusiast. 
Stephen  did  not  long  survive  the  falling  on  "evil  da3's  and 
evil  tongues"  of  wliieh  Milton,  in  the  same  predicament,  so 
mouruf  ully  complains.  At  his  death  his  consort  remained  an 
early  widow,  with  a  male  child  of  three  years  old,  which,  in 
the  sobriety  wherewith  it  demeaned  itself,  in  the  old-fashioned 
and  even  grim  cast  of  its  features,  and  in  its  sententious  mode 
of  expressing  itself,  would  sufficiently  have  vindicated  the 
honor  of  the  widow  of  Beersheba,  had  any  one  thought  proper 
to  challenge  the  babe's  descent  from  Bible  Butler. 

Butler's  principles  had  not  descended  to  his  family,  or  ex- 
tended themselves  among  his  neighbors.  The  air  of  Scotland 
was  alien  to  the  growth  of  Independency,  however  favorable 
to  fanaticism  under  other  colors.  But,  nevertheless,  they  were 
not  forgotten  ;  and  a  certain  neighboring  laird,  who  piqued 
himself  upon  the  loyalty  of  his  principles  "  in  the  worst  of 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  69 

times  "  (though  I  never  lieard  they  exposed  him  to  more  peril 
than  that  of  a  broken  head,  or  a  niglit's  lodging  in  the  main 
guard,  when  wine  and  Cavalierism  predominated  in  his  upper 
story),  had  found  it  a  convenient  thing  to  rake  up  all  matter 
of  accusation  against  the  deceased  Stephen.  In  this  enumer- 
ation his  religious  principles  made  no  small  figure,  as,  in- 
deed, they  must  have  seemed  of  the  most  exaggerated  enormity 
to  one  whose  own  were  so  small  and  so  faintly  traced  as  to  be 
well-nigh  imperceptible.  In  these  circumstances,  poor  widow 
Butler  was  supplied  with  her  full  proportion  of  fines  for  non- 
conformity, and  all  the  other  oppressions  of  the  time,  until 
Beersheba  was  fairly  wrenched  out  of  her  hands  and  became 
the  property  of  the  laird  who  had  so  wantonly,  as  it  had 
hitherto  appeared,  persecuted  this  poor  forlorn  woman.  When 
his  purpose  was  fairly  achieved,  he  showed  some  remorse  or 
moderation,  or  whatever  the  reader  may  please  to  term  it,  in 
permitting  her  to  occupy  her  husband's  cottage,  and  cultivate, 
on  no  very  heavy  terms,  a  croft  of  land  adjacent.  Her  son, 
Benjamin,  in  the  meanwhile,  grew  up  to  man's  estate,  and, 
moved  by  that  impulse  which  makes  men  seek  marriage  even 
when  its  end  can  only  be  the  perpetuation  of  misery,  he  wed- 
ded and  brought  a  wife,  and  eventually  a  son,  Reuben,  to 
share  the  poverty  of  Beersheba. 

The  Laird  of  Dumbiedikes  *  had  hitherto  been  moderate 
in  his  exactions,  perhaps  because  he  was  ashamed  to  tax  too 
highly  the  miserable  means  of  support  which  remained  to  the 
widow  Butler.  But  when  a  stout  active  young  fellow  appeared 
as  the  laborer  of  the  croft  in  question,  Dumbiedikes  began  to 
think  so  broad  a  pair  of  shoulders  might  bear  an  additional 
burden.  He  regulated,  indeed,  his  management  of  his  de- 
pendants (who  fortunately  were  but  few  in  number)  much 
upon  the  principle  of  the  carters  whom  he  observed  loading 
their  carts  at  a  neighboring  coal-hill,  and  who  never  failed  to 
clap  an  additional  brace  of  hundredweights  on  their  burden, 
so  soon  as  by  any  means  they  had  compassed  a  new  horse  of 
somewhat  superior  strength  to  that  which  had  broken  down 
the  day  before.  However  reasonable  this  practice  appeared 
to  the  Laird  of  Dumbiedikes,  he  ought  to  have  observed  that 
it  may  be  overdone,  and  that  it  infers,  as  a  matter  of  course, 
the  destruction  and  loss  of  both  horse,  cart,  and  loading. 
Even  so  it  befell  when  the  additional  "prestations"  came  to 
be  demanded  of  Benjamin  Butler.  A  man  of  few  words  and 
few  ideas,  but  attached  to  Beersheba  with  a  feeling  like  that 
which  a  vegetable  entertains  to  the  spot  in  which  it  chances 

*  See  Dumbiedikes.    Note  13. 


70  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

to  be  planted,  he  neither  remonstrated  with  the  Laird  nor  en- 
deavored to  escape  from  liim,  but,  toiling  night  and  day  to 
accomplish  the  terms  of  his  taskmaster,  fell  into  a  burning 
fever  and  died.  His  wife  did  not  long  survive  him  ;  and,  as 
if  it  had  been  the  fate  of  this  family  to  be  left  orphans,  onr 
Reuben  Butler  was,  about  the  year  1704-5,  left  in  the  same 
circumstances  in  which  his  father  had  been  placed,  and  under 
the  same  guardianship,  being  that  of  his  grandmother,  the 
widow  of  Monk's  old  trooper. 

The  same  prospect  of  misery  hung  over  the  head  of  an- 
other tenant  of  this  hard-hearted  lord  of  the  soil.  This  was 
a  tough  true-blue  Presbyterian,  called  Deans,  who,  though 
most  obnoxious  to  the  Laird  on  account  of  principles  in  church 
and  state,  contrived  to  maintain  his  ground  upon  the  estate 
by  regular  payment  of  mail-duties,  kain,  arriage,  carriage, 
dry  multure,  lock,  gowpen,  and  knaveship,  and  all  the  various 
exactions  now  commuted  for  money,  and  summed  up  in  the 
emphatic  word  kent.  But  the  years  1700  and  1701,  long  re- 
membered in  Scotland  for  dearth  and  general  distress,  sub- 
dued the  stout  heart  of  the  agricultural  Whig.  Citations  by 
the  ground-officer,  decreets  of  the  Baron  Court,  sequestrations, 
poindings  of  outsight  and  insight  plenishing,  flew  about  his 
ears  as  fast  as  ever  the  Tory  bullets  whistled  around  those  of 
the  Covenanters  at  Pentland,  Bothwell  Brig,  or  Aird's  Moss. 
Struggle  as  he  might,  and  he  struggled  gallantly,  "Douce 
Davie  Deans  "  was  routed  horse  and  foot,  and  lay  at  the  mercy 
of  his  grasping  landlord  just  at  the  time  that  Benjamin  But- 
ler died.  The  fate  of  eacli  family  was  anticipated  ;  but  they 
who  prophesied  their  expulsion  to  beggary  and  ruin  were  dis- 
appointed by  an  accidental  circumstance. 

On  the  very  term-day  when  their  ejection  should  have  taken 
place,  when  all  their  neighbors  were  prepared  to  pity  and  not 
one  to  assist  them,  the  minister  of  the  parish,  as  well  as  a 
doctor  from  Edinburgh,  received  a  hasty  summons  to  attend 
the  Laird  of  Dumbiedikes.  Both  were  surprised,  for  his  con- 
tempt for  both  faculties  had  been  pretty  commonly  his  theme 
over  an  extra  bottle,  that  is  to  say,  at  least  once  every  day. 
The  leech  for  the  soul  and  he  for  the  body  alighted  in  the 
court  of  the  little  old  manor-house  at  almost  the  same  time  ; 
and  when  they  had  gazed  a  moment  at  each  other  with  some 
surprise,  they  in  the  same  breath  expressed  their  conviction 
that  Dumbiedikes  must  needs  be  very  ill  indeed,  since  he  sum- 
moned them  both  to  his  presence  at  once.  Ere  the  servant 
could  usher  them  to  his  apartment  the  party  was  augmented 
by  a  man  of  law,  Nichil  Novit,  writing  himself  procurator 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  71 

before  the  sheriff  court,  for  in  those  days  there  were  no  solici- 
tors. This  hitter  personage  was  first  summoned  to  the  apart- 
ment of  the  Laird,  where,  after  some  short  space,  the  soul- 
curer  and  the  body-curer  were  invited  to  join  him. 

Dumbiedikes  had  been  by  tliis  time  transported  into  the 
best  bedroom,  used  only  upon  occasions  of  death  and  marriage, 
and  called,  from  the  former  of  these  occupations,  the  Dead 
Eoom.  There  were  in  this  apartment,  besides  the  sick  person 
himself  and  Mr.  Novit,  the  son  and  heir  of  the  patient,  a  tall 
gawky  silly-looking  boy  of  fourteen  or  fifteen,  and  a  house- 
keeper, a  good  buxom  figure  of  a  woman,  betwixt  forty  and 
fifty,  who  had  kept  the  keys  and  managed  matters  at  Dum- 
biedikes since  tlie  lady's  death.  It  was  to  these  attendants 
that  Dumbiedikes  addressed  himself  pretty  nearly  in  the  fol- 
lowing words  ;  temporal  and  sj)iritual  matters,  the  care  of  his 
health  and  his  afi'airs,  being  strangely  jumbled  in  ahead  which 
was  never  one  of  the  clearest : 

"  These  are  sair  times  wi'  me,  gentlemen  and  neighbors  ! 
amaist  as  ill  as  at  the  aughty-nine,  when  I  was  rabbled  by  the 
collegeaners.*  They  mistook  me  muckle :  they  ca'd  me  a 
Papist,  but  there  was  never  a  Papist  bit  about  me,  minister. 
Jock,  ye'il  take  warning.  It's  a  debt  we  maun  a'  pay,  and 
there  stands  IS^ichil  Novit  that  will  tell  ye  I  was  never  gude  at 
paying  debts  in  my  life.  Mr.  Novit,  ye'll  no  forget  to  draw 
the  annual  rent  that's  due  on  the  yerl's  band  ;  if  I  pay  debt 
to  other  folk,  I  think  they  suld  pay  it  to  me — that  equals  aquals. 
Jock,  when  ye  hae  naething  else  to  do,  ye  may  be  aye  sticking 
in  a  tree  ;  it  will  be  growing,  Jock,  Avhen  ye're  sleepiug.f 
My  father  tauld  me  sae  forty  years  sin',  but  I  ne'er  fand  time 
to  mind  him.  Jock,  ne'er  drink  brandy  in  the  morning,  it 
files  the  stamach  sair  ;  gin  ye  take  a  morning's  draught,  let  it 
be  aqua  mirahilis  ;  Jenny  there  makes  it  weel.  Doctor,  my 
breath  is  growing  as  scant  as  a  broken-winded  piper's,  when 
he  has  played  f or  f our-and-twenty  hours  at  a  penny- wedding. 
Jenny,  pit  the  cod  aneath  my  head  ;  but  it's  a'  needless  ! 
Mass  John,  could  ye  think  o'  rattling  ower  some  bit  short 
prayer ;  it  wad  do  me  gude  maybe,  and  keep  some  queer 
thoughts  out  o'  my  head.     Say  something,  man." 

"I  cannot  use  a  prayer  like  a  ratt-rhyme,"  answered  the 
honest  clergyman ;  "  and  if  you  would  have  your  soul  re- 
deemed like  a  prey  from  the  fowler,  Laird,  you  must  needs 
show  me  your  state  of  mind." 

"And  shouldna  ye  ken  that  without  my  telling  you  ?" 

*See  College  Students.     Note  13. 

tSee  Eeconimeudatioh  to  Arboriculture.    Note  14. 


72  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

answered  the  patient.  "■  What  have  I  been  paying  stipend 
and  teind,  parsonage  and  vicarage  for,  ever  sin'  the  aughty- 
nine,  an  I  canna  get  a  sjoell  of  a  prayer  for't,  the  only  time 
I  ever  asked  for  ane  in  my  life  ?  G-ang  awa'  wi'  your  Whig- 
gery,  if  that's  a'  ye  can  do  ;  auld  Curate  Kiltstoup  wad  hae 
read  half  the  Prayer  Book  to  me  by  this  time.  Awa'  wi'  ye  ! 
Doctor,  let's  see  if  ye  can  do  onything  better  for  me." 

The  Doctor,  who  had  obtained  some  information  in  the 
meanwhile  from  the  liousekeeper  on  the  state  of  his  com- 
plaints, assured  him  the  medical  art  could  not  prolong  his 
life  many  hours. 

"  Then  damn  Mass  John  and  you  baith  ! "  cried  the  furi- 
ous and  intractable  patient.  "  Did  ye  come  here  for  naething 
but  to  tell  me  that  ye  canna  help  me  at  the  pinch  ?  Out  wi' 
them,  Jenny — out  o'  the  house  !  and,  Jock,  my  curse,  and 
the  curse  of  Cromwell,  go  wi'  ye,  if  ye  gie  them  either  fee  or 
bountith,  or  sae  muckle  as  a  black  pair  o'  cheverons  ! " 

The  clergyman  and  doctor  made  a  speedy  retreat  out  of 
the  apartment,  while  Dumbiedikes  fell  into  one  of  those  trans- 
ports of  violent  and  profane  language  which  had  procured 
him  the  surname  of  Damn-me-dikes.  "Bring  me  the  brandy 
bottle,  Jenny,  ye  b ,"  he  cried,  with  a  voice  in  which  pas- 
sion contended  with  pain.  "  I  can  die  as  I  have  lived,  with- 
out fashing  ony  o'  them.  But  there's  ae  thing,"  he  said, 
sinking  his  voice — '^  there's  ae  fearful  thing  hings  about  my 
heart,  and  an  anker  of  brandy  winna  wash  it  away.  The 
Deanses  at  Woodend  !  I  sequestered  them  in  the  dear  years, 
and  now  they  are  to  flit,  they'll  starve  ;  and  that  Beersheba, 
and  that  auld  trooper's  wife  and  her  oe,  they'll  starve — they'll 
starve  !     Look  out,  Jock  ;  wliat  kind  o'  night  is't  ?  " 

"  On-ding  o'  snaw,  father,"  answered  Jock,  after  having 
opened  the  window  and  looked  out  with  great  composure. 

"They'll  perish  in  the  drifts  !"  said  the  expiring  sinner — 
"  they'll  perish  wi'  cauld  !  but  I'll  be  het  eneugh,  gin  a' tales 
be  true." 

This  last  &bservation  was  made  under  breath,  and  in  a  tone 
which  made  the  very  attorney  shudder.  He  tried  his  hand  at 
ghostly  advice,  probably  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  and  recom- 
mended, as  an  opiate  for  the  agonized  conscience  of  the  Laird, 
reparation  of  the  injuries  he  liad  done  to  these  distressed 
families,  which,  he  observed  by  the  way,  the  civil  law  called 
restitutio  in  integrum.  But  Mammon  was  struggling  witii 
Remorse  for  retaining  his  place  in  a  bosom  he  had  so  long  pos- 
sessed ;  and  he  partly  succeeded,  as  an  old  tyrant  proves  of  ten 
too  strong  for  his  insurgent  rebels. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIA^  78 

"  I  canna  do't/'  he  answered,  with  a  voice  of  despair.  ''  It 
would  kill  me  to  do't ;  how  can  ye  bid  me  pay  back  siller, 
when  ye  ken  how  I  want  it  ?  or  dispone  Beersheba,  when  it  lies 
sae  weel  into  my  ain  plaid-nuik  ?     Nature  made  Dumbiedikes 

and  Beersheba  to  be  ae  man's  land.     She  did,  by .    Nichil, 

it  wad  kill  me  to  part  them." 

"  But  }'e  maun  die  whether  or  no,  Laird,"  said  Mr.  Novit  ; 
■'  and  maybe  ye  wad  die  easier  ;  it's  but  trying.  I'll  scroll  the 
disposition  in  nae  time." 

''Dinna  sj)eak  o't,  sir,"  replied  Dumbiedikes,  "or  I'll 
fling  the  stoup  at  yoiir  li^^ead.  But,  Jock,  lad,  ye  see  how  the 
warld  warstles  wi'  me  on  my  death-bed  ;  be  kind  to  the  puir 
creatures,  the  Deansesand  the  Butlers — be  kind  to  them,  Jock. 
Dinna  let  the  warld  get  a  grip  o'  ye,  Jock  ;  but  keej)  the  gear 
thegither  !  and  whate'er  ye  do,  dispone  Beersheba  at  no  rate. 
Let  the  creatures  stay  at  a  moderate  mailing,  and  hae  bite  and 
soup  ;  it  will  maybe  be  the  better  wi'  your  father  whare  he's 
gaun,  lad." 

After  these  contradictory  instructions,  the  Laird  felt  his 
mind  so  much  at  ease  that  he  drank  three  bumpers  of  brandy 
continuously,  and  ' '  soughed  awa',"  as  Jenny  expressed  it,  in  an 
attempt  to  sing  "  Deil  stick  the  minister." 

His  death  made  a  revolution  in  favor  of  the  distressed 
families.  John  Dumbie,  now  of  Dumbiedikes,  in  his  own 
right,  seemed  to  be  close  and  selfish  enough  ;  but  wanted  the 
grasping  spirit  and  active  mind  of  his  father  ;  and  his  guard- 
ian happened  to  agree  with  him  in  opinion  that  his  father's 
dying  recommendation  should  be  attended  to.  The  tenants, 
therefore,  were  not  actually  turned  out-of-doors  among  the 
snow  wreaths,  and  were  allowed  wherewith  to  procure  butter- 
milk and  pease  bannocks,  which  they  ate  under  the  f ul'  force 
of  the  original  malediction.  The  cottage  of  Deans,  called 
Woodend,  was  not  very  distant  from  that  of  Beersheba. 
Formerly  there  had  been  little  intercourse  between  the  fam- 
ilies. Deans  was  a  sturdy  Scotchman,  with  all  sorts  of  prej- 
udices against  the  Southern,  and  the  spawn  of  the  Southern. 
Moreover,  Deans  was,  as  we  have  said,  a  stanch  Presbyterian, 
of  the  most  rigid  and  unbending  adherence  to  what  he  con- 
ceived to  be  the  only  possible  straight  line,  as  he  was  wont  to 
express  himself,  between  right-hand  heats  and  extremes  and 
left-hand  defections  ;  and,  therefore,  he  held  in  high  dread 
and  horror  all  Independents,  and  whomsoever  he  supposed 
allied  to  them. 

But,  notwithstanding  these  national  prejudices  and  relig- 
ious professions.  Deans  and  the  widow  Butler  were  placed  in 


74  WAVERLEY  NOVELL 

such  a  situation  as  naturally  and  at  length  created  some  inti- 
macy between  the  families.  They  had  shared  a  common 
danger  and  a  mutual  deliverance.  They  needed  each  other's 
assistance,  like  a  company  who,  crossing  a  mountain  stream, 
are  compelled  to  cling  close  together,  lest  the  current  should 
be  too  powerful  for  any  who  are  not  thus  supported. 

On  nearer  acquaintance,  too.  Deans  abated  some  of  his 
prejudices.  He  found  old  Mrs.  Butler,  though  not  thoroughly 
■grounded  in  the  extent  and  bearing  of  the  real  testimony 
against  the  defections  of  the  times,  had  no  opinions  in  favoi 
of  the  Independent  party  ;  neither  was«iie  an  English Avoman. 
Therefore,  it  was  to  be  hoped  that,  iSiough  she  was  the  widow 
of  an  enthusiastic  corporal  of  Cromwell's  dragoons,  her  grand- 
son might  be  neither  scliismatic  nor  anti-national,  two  qualities 
concerning  which  Goodman  Deans  had  as  wholesome  a  terror 
as  against  PajDists  and  Malignants.  Above  all,  for  Douce 
Davie  Deans  had  his  weak  side,  he  perceived  that  widow  But- 
ler looked  up  to  him  with  reverence,  listened  to  his  advice, 
and  compounded  for  an  occasional  fling  at  the  doctrines  of 
her  deceased  husband,  to  which,  as  we  &ive  seen,  she  was  by 
no  means  warmly  attached,  in  consideration  of  tlie  valuable 
counsels  which  the  Presbyterian  afforded  her  for  the  man- 
agement of  her  little  farm.  These  usually  concluded  with, 
"  they  may  do  otlierwise  in  England,  neighbor  Butler,  for 
aught  I  ken;"  or,  "it  may  be  different  in  foreign  parts;" 
or,  "they  wha  think  differently  on  the  great  foundation  of 
our  covenanted  reformation,  overturning  and  misguggling  the 
government  and  discipline  of  the  kirk,  and  breaking  down 
the  carved  work  of  our  Zion,  might  be  for  sawing  the  craft 
wi'  aits  ;  but  I  say  pease,  pease."  And  as  his  advice  was 
shrewd  and  sensible,  though  conceitedly  given,  it  was  received 
with  gratitude,  and  followed  with  respect. 

The  intercourse  which  took  place  betwixt  the  families  at 
Beersheba  and  Woodend  became  strict  and  intimate,  at  a  very 
early  period,  betwixt  Reuben  Butlei',  with  whom  the  reader  is 
already  in  some  degree  acquainted,  and  Jeanie  Deans,  the  only 
child  of  Douce  Davie  Deans  by  his  first  wife,  "  that  singular 
Christian  woman,"  as  he  was  wont  to  express  himself,  "whose 
name  was  savory  to  all  that  knew  her  for  a  desirable  professor. 
Christian  Menzies  in  Hochmagirdle."  The  manner  of  which 
intimacy,  and  tlie  consequences  thereof,  we  now  proceed  to 
relate. 


CHAPTER  IX 

Reuben  and  Rachel,  though  as  fond  as  doves, 
Were  yet  discreet  and  cautious  in  their  loves, 
Nor  would  attend  to  Cupid's  wild  commands, 
Till  cool  reflection  bade  tliem  join  their  hands. 
When  both  were  poor,  they  thought  it  argued  ill 
Of  hasty  love  to  make  them  poorer  still. 

Crabbe"s  Parish  Register. 

While  widow  Butler  and  widoAver  Deans  struggled  with  pov- 
erty, and  the  hard  and  sterile  soil  of  those  "parts  and  por- 
tions "  of  the  lands  of  Dumbiedikes  which  it  was  their  lot  to 
occupy,  it  became  gradually  apj^arent  that  Deans  was  to  gain 
the  strife,  and  his  ally  in  the  conflict  was  to  lose  it.  The 
former  was  a  man,  and  not  mucli  past  the  prime  of  life ; 
Mrs.  Butler  a  woman,  and  declined  into  the  vale  of  years. 
This,  indeed,  ought  in  time  to  have  been  balanced  by  the  cir- 
cumstance that  Reuben  was  growing  up  to  assist  his  grand- 
mother's labors,  and  that  Jeanie  Deans,  as  a  girl,  could  be 
only  supposed  to  add  to  her  father's  burdens.  But  Douce 
Davie  Deans  knew  better  things,  and  so  schooled  and  trained 
the  young  minion,  as  he  called  her,  that  from  the  time  she 
could  walk,  upwards,  she  was  daily  employed  in  some  task  or 
other  suitable  to  her  age  and  capacity  ;  a  circumstance  which, 
added  to  her  father's  daily  instructions  and  lectures,  tended  to 
give  her  mind,  even  when  a  child,  a  grave,  serious,  firm,  and 
reflecting  cast.  An  uncommonly  strong  and  healthy  temper- 
ament, free  from  all  nervous  affection  and  every  other  irreg- 
ularity, which,  attacking  the  body  in  its  more  noble  functions, 
so  often  influences  the  mind,  tended  greatly  to  establish  this 
fortitude,  simplicity,  and  decision  of  character. 

On  the  other  hand,  Reuben  was  weak  in  constitution,  and, 
though  not  timid  in  temper,  might  be  safely  pronounced 
anxious,  doubtful,  and  apprehensive.  He  partook  of  the 
temperament  of  his  mother,  who  had  died  of  a  consumption 
in  early  age.  He  was  a  pale,  tliin,  feeble,  sickly  bo}*,  and 
somewhat  lame,  from  an  accident  in  early  youth.  He  was, 
besides,  the  child  of  a  doting  grandmother,  whose  too  solici- 


W  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

tous  attention  to  him  soon  taugiit  him  a  sort  of  diflBdence  in 
himself,  with  a  disposition  to  overrate  his  own  importance, 
which  is  one  of  the  very  worst  consequences  that  childre*^ 
deduce  from  over-indulgence. 

Still,  however,  the  two  children  clung  to  each  other's  so- 
ciety, not  more  from  habit  than  from  taste.  They  herded  to- 
gether the  handful  of  sheep,  with  the  two  or  three  cows,  which 
their  parents  turned  out  rather  to  seek  food  than  actually  tc 
feed  upon  the  unenclosed  common  of  Dumbiedikes.  It  was 
there  that  the  two  urchins  might  be  seen  seated  beneath  a 
blooming  bush  of  whin,  their  little  faces  laid  close  together 
under  the  shadow  of  the  same  plaid  drawn  over  both  their  heads, 
while  the  landscape  around  was  embrowned  by  an  overshadow- 
ing cloud,  big  with  the  shower  which  had  driven  the  children  to 
shelter.  On  other  occasions  they  went  together  to  school,  the 
boy  receiving  that  encouragement  and  example  from  his  com- 
panion, in  crossing  the  little  brooks  which  intersected  their 
path,  and  encountering  cattle,  dogs,  and  other  perils  upon 
their  journey,  which  the  male  sex  in  such  cases  usually  con- 
sider it  as  their  prerogative  to  extend  to  the  weaker.  But 
when,  seated  on  the  benches  of  the  school-house,  they  began 
to  con  their  lessons  together,  Reuben,  who  was  as  much  su- 
perior to  Jeanie  Deans  in  acuteuess  of  intellect  as  inferior  to 
her  in  firmness  of  constitution,  and  in  that  insensibility  to 
fatigue  and  danger  which  depends  on  the  conformation  of  the 
nerves,  was  able  fully  to  requite  the  kindness  and  countenance 
with  which,  in  other  circumstances,  she  nsed  to  regard  him. 
He  was  decidedly  the  best  scholar  at  the  little  parish  school ; 
and  so  gentle  was  his  temper  and  disposition,-  that  he  was 
rather  admired  than  envied  by  the  little  mob  who  occupied  the 
noisy  mansion,  although  he  was  the  declared  favorite  of  the 
master.  Several  girls,  in  particular  (for  in  Scotland  they  are 
taught  with  the  boys),  longed  to  be  kind  to  and  comfort  the 
sickly  lad,  who  was  so  much  cleverer  than  his  companions. 
The  character  of  Reuben  Butler  was  so  calculated  as  to  oUer 
scope  both  for  their  sympathy  and  their  admiration,  the  feel- 
ings, perhaps,  through  which  the  female  sex,  the  more  deserv- 
ing part  of  them  at  least,  is  more  easily  attached. 

But  Reuben,  naturally  reserved  and  distant,  improved  none 
of  these  advantages  ;  and  only  became  more  attached  to  Jeanie 
Deans,  as  the  enthusiastic  approbation  of  his  master  assured 
him  of  fair  prospects  in  future  life,  and  awakened  his  ambi- 
tion. In  the  meantime,  every  advance  that  Reuben  made  in 
learning  (and,  considering  his  opportunities,  they  wereuncoBi- 
monly  great)  rendered  him  less  capable  of  attending  to  the 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  Tt 

iomestic  duties  of  his  grandmother's  farm.  While  studying 
i\ie  pons  asinorumm  Euclid,  he  suffered  every  "  cuddie"  upon 
the  common  to  trespass  upon  a  large  field  of  pease  belonging 
to  the  Laird,  and  nothing  but  the  active  exertions  of  Jeanie 
Deans,  with  her  little  dog  Dustiefoot,  could  have  saved  great 
lossand  consequent  punishment.  Similar  miscarriages  marked 
his  progress  in  his  classical  studies.  He  read  Virgil's  Georgics 
till  he  did  not  know  bear  from  barley  ;  and  had  nearly  de- 
stroyed the  crofts  of  Beersheba  while  attempting  to  cultivate 
them  according  to  the  practice  of  Columella  and  Cato  the 
Censor. 

These  blunders  occasioned  grief  to  his  grand-dame,  and 
disconcerted  the  good  opinion  which  her  neighbor,  Davie 
Deans,  had  for  some  time  entertained  of  Reuben. 

"  I  see  naething  ye  can  make  of  that  silly  callant,  neighbor 
Butler,"  said  he  to  the  old  lady,  "unless  ye  train  him  to  the 
wark  o'  the  ministry.  And  ne'er  was  there  mair  need  of 
poorf  u'  preachers  than  e'en  now  in  these  cauld  Gallio  days, 
when  men's  liearts  are  hardened  like  the  nether  millstone,  till 
they  come  to  regard  none  of  these  things.  It's  evident  this 
puir  callant  of  yours  will  never  be  able  to  do  an  usefu'  day's 
wark,  unless  it  be  as  an  ambassador  from  our  Master  ;  and  I 
will  make  it  my  business  to  procure  a  license  when  he  is  fit 
for  the  same,  trusting  he  will  be  a  shaft  cleanly  polished,  and 
meet  to  be  used  in  the  body  of  the  kirk,  and  that  he  shall  not 
turn  again,  like  i\\^  sow,  to  wallow  in  the  mire  of  heretical 
extremes  and  defections,  but  shall  have  the  wings  of  a  dove, 
though  he  hath  lain  among  the  pots." 

The  poor  widow  gulped  down  the  affront  to  her  husband's 
principles  implied  in  this  caution,  and  hastened  to  take  Butler 
from  the  High  School,  an^  encourage  him  in  the  pursuit  of 
mathematics  and  divinity,  'the  only  physics  and-  ethics  that 
chanced  to  be  in  fashion  at  the  time. 

Jeanie  Deans-  was  now  compelled  to  part  from  the  com- 
panion of  her  labor,  her  study,  and  her  pastime,  and  it  was 
with  more  tlian  childish  feeling  that  both  children  regarded 
the  separation.  But  they  were  young,  and  hope  was  high,  and 
they  separated  like  those  who  hope  to  meet  again  at  a  more 
auspicious  hour. 

While  Reuben  Butler  was  acquiring  at  the  University  of 
St.  Andrews  tlie  knowledge  necessary  for  a  clergyman,  arid 
macerating  his  body  with  the  privations  which  were  necessary 
in  seeking  food  for  hi^jnind,  his  grand-dame  became  daily 
less  able  to  struggle  wmi  her  little  farm;  and  was  at  length 
obliged  to  throw  it  up  to  the  new  Laird  of  Dumbiedikes. 


IS  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

That  great  personage  was  no  absolute  Jew,  and  did  not  cheat 
her  in  making  the  bargain  more  than  was  tolerable.  He  even 
gave  her  permission  to  tenant  the  house  in  which  she  had  lived 
with  her  husband,  as  long  as  it  should  be  "  tenantable  ;  "  only 
he  protested  against  paying  for  a  farthing  of  repairs,  any  be- 
nevolence which  he  possessed  being  of  the  passive,  but  by  no 
means  of  the  active  mood. 

In  the  meanwhile,  from  superior  shrewdness,  skill,  and 
other  circumstances,  some  of  them  purely  accidental,  Davie 
Deans  gained  a  footing  in  the  world,  the  possession  of  some 
wealth,  the  reputation  of  more,  and  a  growing  disposition  to 
preserve  and  increase  his  store,  for  which,  when  he  thought 
upon  it  seriously,  he  was  inclined  to  blame  himself.  From 
his  knowledge  in  agriculture,  as  it  was  then  practised,  he  be- 
came a  sort  of  favorite  with  the  Laird,  who  had  no  pleasure 
either  in  active  sports  or  in  society,  and  was  wont  to  end  his 
daily  saunter  by  calling  at  the  cottage  of  Woodend. 

Being  himself  a  man  of  slow  ideas  and  confused  utterance, 
Dumbiedikes  used  to  sit  or  stand  for  half  an  hour  with  an  old 
laced  hat  of  his  father's  upon  his  head,  and  an  empty  tobacco- 
pipe  in  his  mouth,  with  his  eyes  following  Jeanie  Deans,  or 
"  the  lassie,"  as  he  called  her,  through  the  course  of  her  daily 
domestic  labor  ;  while  her  father,  after  exhausting  the  subject 
of  bestial,  of  ploughs,  and  of  harrows,  often  took  an  opportu- 
nity of  going  full-sail  into  controversial  subjects,  to  which 
discussions  the  dignitary  listened  with  much  seeming  patience, 
but  without  making  any  reply,  or,  indeed,  as  most  people 
thought,  without  understanding  a  single  word  of  what  the 
orator  was  saying.  Deans,  indeed,  denied  this  stoutly,  as  an 
insult  at  once  to  his  own  talents  for  expounding  hidden  truths, 
of  which  he  was  a  little  vain,  and  to  the  Laird's  capacity  of 
understanding  them.  He  said,  "  Dumbiedikes  7,as  nane  of 
these  flashy  gentles,  wi'  lace  on  their  skirts  and  swords  at 
their  tails,  that  were  rather  for  riding  on  horseback  to  hell 
than  ganging  barefooted  to  Heaven.  He  wasna  like  his  fa- 
ther— nae  profane  company-keeper,  nae  swearer,  nae  drinker, 
nae  frequenter  of  play-house,  or  music-house,  or  dancing- 
house,  nae  Sabbath-breaker,  nae  imposer  of  aiths,  or  bonds, 
or  denier  of  liberty  to  the  flock.  He  clave  to  the  warld,  and 
the  warld's  gear,  a  wee  ower  muckle,  but  then  there  was  some 
breathing  of  a  gale  upon  his  spirit,"  etc.,  etc.  All  this  hon- 
est Davie  said  and  believed. 

It  is  not  to  be  .supposed  that,  %  a  father  and  a  man  of 
sense  and  observation,  the  constant  direction  of  the  Laird's 
eyes  towards  Jeanie  was  altogether  unnoticed.     This  circnm- 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  79 

stance,  however,  made  a  niucli  greater  impression  npon  an- 
other member  of  his  family,  a  second  helpmate,  to  wit,  whom 
he  had  chosen  to  take  to  his  bosom  ten  years  after  the  death 
of  his  first.  Some  people  were  of  opinion  that  Donee  Davie 
had  been  rather  surprised  into  this  step,  for  in  general  he  was 
no  friend  to  marriages  or  giving  in  marriage,  and  seemed 
rather  to  regard  that  state  of  society  as  a  necessary  evil — a 
thing  lawful,  and  to  be  tolerated  in  the  imperfect  state  of  our 
nature,  but  which  clipped  the  wings  with  which  we  ought  to 
soar  upwards,  and  tethered  the  soul  to  its  mansion  of  clay, 
and  the  creature  comforts  of  Avife  and  bairns.  His  own  prac- 
tice, however,  had  in  this  material  point  varied  from  his  prin- 
ciples, since,  as  we  have  seen,  he  twice  knitted  for  himself 
this  dangerous  and  ensnaring  entanglement. 

Rebecca,  his  spouse,  had  by  no  means  the  same  horror  of 
matrimony,  and  as  she  made  marriages  in  imagination  for  every 
neighbor  round,  she  failed  not  to  indicate  a  match  betwixt 
Dumbiedikes  and  her  stepdaughter  Jeanie.  The  goodman 
used  regularly  to  frown  aud  pshaw  whenever  this  topic  was 
touched  upon,  but  usually  ended  by  taking  his  bonnet  and 
walking  out  of  the  house  to  conceal  a  certain  gleam  of  satis- 
faction which,  at  such  a  suggestion,  involuntarily  diffused  it- 
self over  his  austere  features. 

The  more  youthful  part  of  my  readers  may  naturally  ask 
whether  Jeanie  Deans  was  deserving  of  this  mute  attention  of 
the  Laird  of  Dumbiedikes  ;  and  the  historian,  with  due  regard 
to  veracity,  is  compelled  to  answer  that  her  personal  attrac- 
tions were  of  no  uncommon  description.  She  was  short,  and 
rather  too  stoutly  made  for  her  size,  had  gray  eyes,  light-col- 
ored hair,  a  round  good-humored  face,  much  tanned  with  the 
sun,  and  her  only  peculiar  charm  Avas  an  air  of  inexpressible 
serenity,  which  a  good  conscience,  kind  feelings,  contented 
temper,  and  the  regular  discharge  of  all  her  duties,  spread 
over  her  features.  There  was  nothing,  it  may  be  supposed, 
very  appalling  in  the  form  or  manners  of  this  rustic  heroine  ; 
yet,  whether  from  sheepish  bashf ulness,  or  from  want  of  de- 
cision and  imperfect  knowledge  of  his  own  mind  on  the  sub- 
ject, the  Laird  of  Dumbiedikes,  with  his  old  laced  hat  and 
empty  tobacco-pipe,  came  and  enjoyed  the  beatific  vision  of 
Jeanie  Deans  day  after  day,  week  after  week,  year  after  year, 
without  proposing  to  accomplish  any  of  the  prophecies  of  the 
stepmother. 

This  good  lady  began  to  grow  doubly  impatient  on  the 
subject  when,  after  having  been  some  years  married,  she  her- 
self presented  Donee  Davie  with  anotner  daughter,  who  was 


80  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

named  Euphemia,  by  corruption,  Effie.  It  was  then  that 
Eebecca  began  to  turn  impatient  with  the  slow  pace  at  which 
the  Laird's  wooing  proceeded,  judiciously  arguing  that,  as 
Lady  Dumbiedikes  would  have  but  little  occasion  for  tocher, 
the  principal  part  of  her  gudeman's  substance  would  naturally 
descend  to  the  child  by  the  second  marriage.  Other  step- 
dames  have  tried  less  laudable  means  for  clearing  the  way  to 
the  succession  of  their  own  children ;  but  Eebecca,  to  do  her 
justice,  only  sought  little  Effie's  advantage  through  the  pro- 
motion, or  which  must  have  generally  been  accounted  such,  of 
her  elder  sister.  She  therefore  tried  every  female  art  within 
the  compass  of  her  simple  skill  to  bring  the  Laird  to  a  point ; 
but  had  the  mortification  to  perceive  that  her  efforts,  like 
those  of  an  unskilful  angler,  only  scared  the  trout  she  meant 
to  catch.  Upon  one  occasion,  in  particular,  when  she  joked 
with  the  Laird  on  the  propriety  of  giving  a  mistress  to  the 
house  of  Dumbiedikes,  he  was  so  effectually  startled  that 
neither  laced  hat,  tobacco-pipe,  nor  the  intelligent  proprietor 
of  these  movables,  visited  Woodend  for  a  fortnight.  Eebecca 
was  therefore  compelled  to  leave  the  Laird  to  proceed  at  his 
own  snail's  pace,  convinced  by  experience  of  the  grave-dig- 
ger's aphorism,  that  your  dull  ass  will  not  mend  his  pace  for 
beating. 

Eeuben  in  the  meantime  pursued  his  studies  at  the  uni- 
versity, supplying  his  wants  by  teaching  the  younger  lads  the 
knowledge  he  himself  acquired,  and  thus  at  once  gaining  the 
means  of  maintaining  himself  at  the  seat  of  learning  and  fix- 
ing in  his  mind  the  elements  of  what  he  had  already  obtained. 
In  this  manner,  as  is  usual  among  the  poorer  students  of 
divinity  at  Scottish  universities,  he  contrived  not  only  to 
maintain  himself  according  to  his  simple  wants,  but  even  to 
send  considerable  assistance  to  his  sole  remaining  parent,  a 
sacred  duty  of  which  the  Scotch  are  seldom  negligent.  His 
progress  in  knowledge  of  a  general  kind,  as  well  as  in  the 
studies  proper  to  his  profession,  was  very  considerable,  but 
was  little  remarked,  owing  to  the  retired  modesty  of  his  dis- 
position, which  in  no  respect  qualified  him  to  set  oif  his  learn- 
ing to  the  best  advantage.  And,  thus  had  Butler  been  a  man 
given  to  make  complaints,  he  had  his  tale  to  tell,  like  others, 
of  unjust  preferences,  bad  luck,  and  hard  usage.  On  these 
subjects,  however,  he  was  habitually  silent,  perhaps  from  mod- 
esty, perliaps  from  a  touch  of  pride,  or  perhaps  from  a  con- 
junction of  both. 

He  obtained  his  license  as  a  preacher  of  the  Gospel,  with 
some  compliments  from  the  presbytery  by  whom  it  was  be^ 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  81 

stowed  ;  but  this  did  not  lead  to  any  preferment,  and  he  f onnd 
it  necessary  to  make  the  cottage  at  Beersheba  his  residence 
for  some  months,  with  no  other  income  than  was  afforded  by 
the  precarious  occupation  of  teaching  in  one  or  other  of  the 
neighboring  families.  After  having  greeted  his  aged  grand- 
mother, his  first  visit  was  to  Woodend,  where  he  was  received 
by  Jeanie  with  warm  cordiality,  arising  from  recollections 
which  had  never  been  dismissed  from  her  mind,  by  Rebecca 
with  good-humored  hospitality,  and  by  old  Deans  in  a  mode 
peculiar  to  himself. 

Highly  as  Douce  Davie  honored  the  clergy,  it  was  not 
upon  each  individual  of  the  cloth  that  he  bestowed  his  ap- 
probation ;  and,  a  little  jealous,  perhaps,  at  seeing  his  youth- 
ful acquaintance  erected  into  the  dignity  of  a  teacher  and 
preacher,  he  instantly  attacked  him  upon  various  points  of 
controversy,  in  order  to  discover  whether  he  might  not  have 
fallen  into  some  of  the  snares,  defections,  and  desertions  of  the 
time.  Butler  was  not  only  a  man  of  stanch  Presbyterian 
principles,  but  was  also  willing  to  avoid  giving  pain  to  his  old 
friend  by  disputing  upon  points  of  little  importance  ;  and 
therefore  he  might  have  hoped  to  have  come  like  refined  gold 
out  of  the  furnace  of  Davie's  interrogatories.  But  the  result 
on  the  mind  of  that  strict  investigator  was  not  altogether  so 
favorable  as  might  have  been  hoped  and  anticipated.  Old 
Judith  Butler,  who  had  hobbled  that  evening  as  far  as  Wood- 
end,  in  order  to  enjoy  the  congratulations  of  her  neighbors 
upon  Reuben's  return,  and  upon  his  high  attainments,  of 
which  she  was  herself  not  a  little  proud,  was  somewhat  mor- 
tified to  find  that  her  old  friend  Deans  did  not  enter  into  the 
subject  with  the  warmth  she  expected.  At  first,  indeed,  he 
seemed  rather  silent  than  dissatisfied  ;  and  it  was  not  till 
Judith  had  essayed  the  subject  more  than  once  that  it  led  to 
the  following  dialogue  : 

"  Aweel,  neibor  Deans,  I  thought  ye  wad  hae  been  glad  to 
see  Reuben  amang  us  again,  poor  fallow." 

"  I  am  glad,  Mrs.  Butler,"  was  the  neighbor's  concise  an- 
swer. 

"  Since  he  has  lost  bis  grandfather  and  his  father — praised 
DC  Him  that  giveth  and  taketh  ! — I  ken  nae  friend  he  has  in 
the  world  that's  been  sae  like  a  father  to  him  as  the  sell  o'  ye, 
neibor  Deans." 

"God  is  the  only  Father  of  the  fatherless,"  said  Deans, 
touching  his  bonnet  and  looking  upwards.  ' '  Give  honor  where 
it  is  due,  gudewife,  and  not  to  an  unworthy  instrument." 

"  Aweel,  that's  your  way  o'  turning  it,  and  nae  doubt  ye 


82  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

ken  best.  But  I  hae  kenned  ye,  Davie,  send  a  f orpit  c/  meal  tc 
Beersheba  when  there  wasna  a  bow  left  in  the  meal-ark  at 
Woodend  ;  ay,  and  I  hae  kenn'd  ye " 

'' Grudewife,"  said  Davie,  interrupting  her,  "these  are  but 
idle  tales  to  tell  me,  fit  for  naething  but  to  puff  up  our  in- 
ward man  wi'  our  ain  vain  acts.  I  stude  beside  blessed  Alex- 
ander Peden,  when  I  heard  him  call  the  death  and  testimony 
of  our  happy  martyrs  but  draps  of  bluid  and  scarts  of  ink  in 
respect  of  fitting  discharge  of  our  duty ;  and  what  suld  I  think 
of  onything  the  like  of  me  can  do  ?  " 

"  Weel,  neibor  Deans,  ye  ken  best ;  but  I  maun  say  that  I 
am  sure  you  are  glad  to  see  my  bairn  again.  The  halt's  gane 
now,  unless  he  has  to  walk  ower  mony  miles  at  a  stretch  ;  and 
he  has  a  wee  bit  color  in  his  cheek,  that  glads  my  auld  een  to 
see  it ;  and  he  has  as  decent  a  black  coat  as  the  minister ; 
and r." 

''  I  am  very  h'^artily  glad  he  is  weel  and  thriving,"  said  Mr. 
Deans,  with  a  gravity  that  seemed  intended  to  cut  short  the 
subject ;  but  a  woman  who  is  bent  upon  a  point  is  not  easily 
pushed  aside  from  it. 

"  And,"  continued  Mrs.  Butler,  "  he  can  wag  his  head  in  a 
pulpit  now,  neibor  Deans,  think  but  of  that — my  ain  oe — and 
a'body  maun  sit  still  and  listen  to  him,  as  if  lie  were  the  Paip 
of  Rome." 

"  The  what  ?  the  who,  woman  ?"said  Deans,  with  a  stern- 
ness far  beyond  his  usual  gravity,  as  soon  as  these  offensive 
words  had  struck  upon  the  tympanum  of  his  ear. 

"  Eh,  guide  us  !"  said  the  poor  woman  ;  "  I  had  forgot 
what  an  ill  will  ye  had  aye  at  the  Paip,  and  sae  had  my  puir 
gudeman,  Stephen  Butler.  Mony  an  afternoon  he  wad  sit  and 
take  up  his  testimony  again  the  Paip,  and  again  baptising  of 
bairns,  and  the  like." 

"  Woman,"  reiterated  Deans,  ''  either  speak  about  what  ye 
ken  something  o',  or  be  silent.  I  say  that  Independency  is  a 
foul  heresy,  and  Anabaptism  a  damnable  and  deceiving  error, 
whilk  suld  be  rooted  out  of  the  land  wi'  the  fire  o'  the  spiritual 
and  the  sword  o'  the  civil  magistrate." 

"  Weel,  weel,  neibor,  I'll  no  say  that  ye  mayna  be  right," 
answered  the  submissive  Judith.  "I  am  sure  ye  are  right 
about  the  sawing  and  the  mawing,  the  shearing  and  the 
leading,  and  what  for  suld  ye  no  be  right  about  kirk-wark, 
too  ?     But  concerning  my  oe.  Reuben  Butler " 

"Reuben  Butler,  gudewife,"  said  David,  with  solemnity, 
"is  a  lad  I  wish  heartily  weel  to,  even  as  if  he  were  mine  ain 
son  :  but  I  doubt  there  will  be  outs  and  ins  in  the  track  of  hie 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  88 

walk.  I  mnckle  fear  liis  gifts  will  get  the  heels  of  his  grace. 
He  has  ower  muckle  human  wit  and  learning,  and  thinks  as 
mnckle  about  the  form  of  the  bicker  as  he  does  about  the 
healsomeness  of  the  food  ;  he  maun  broider  the  marriage-gar- 
ment with  lace  and  passments,  or  it's  no  gude  eneugh  for 
him.  And  it's  like  he's  something  proud  o'  his  human  gifts 
and  learning,  whilk  enables  him  to  dress  up  his  doctrine  in 
that  fine  air}^  dress.  But,"  added  he,  at  seeing  the  old  wo- 
man's uneasiness  at  his  discourse,  "affliction  may  gie  him  a 
jagg,  and  let  the  wind  out  o'  him,  as  out  o'  a  cow  that's  eaten 
wet  clover,  and  the  lad  may  do  weel,  and  be  a  burning  and  a 
shining  light ;  and  I  trust  it  will  be  yours  to  see,  and  his  to 
feel  it,  and  that  soon." 

Widow  Butler  was  obliged  to  retire,  unable  to  make  any- 
thing more  of  her  neighbor,  whose  discourse,  though  she  did 
not  comprehend  it,  filled  her  with  undefined  apprehensions 
on  her  grandson's  account,  and  greatly  depressed  the  joy  with 
which  she  had  welcomed  him  on  his  return.  And  it  must 
not  be  concealed,  in  justice  to  Mr.  Deans's  discernment,  that 
Butler,  in  their  conference,  had  made  a  greater  display  of  his 
learning  than  the  occasion  called  for,  or  than  was  likely  to  be 
acceptable  to  the  old  man,  Avho,  accustomed  to  consider  him- 
self as  a  person  pre-eminently  entitled  to  dictate  upon  theo- 
logical subjects  of  controversy,  felt  rather  humbled  and  mor- 
tified when  learned  authorities  were  placed  in  array  against 
him.  In  fact,  Butler  had  not  escaped  the  tinge  of  pedantry 
which  naturally  flowed  from  his  education,  and  was  apt,  on 
many  occasions,  to  make  parade  of  his  knowledge,  when  there 
was  no  need  of  such  vanity. 

Jeanie  Deans,  however,  found  no  fault  with  this  display  of 
learning,  but  on  the  contrary,  admii'ed  it ;  perhaps  on  the 
same  score  that  her  sex  are  said  to  admire  men  of  courage,  on 
account  of  their  own  deficiency  in  that  qualification.  The 
circumstances  of  their  families  threw  the  young  people  con- 
stantly together;  their  old  intimacy  was  renewed,  though  upon 
a  footing  better  adapted  to  their  age  ;  audit  became  at  length 
understood  betwixt  them  that  their  union  should  be  deferred 
no  longer  than  until  Butler  should  obtain  some  steady  means 
of  support,  however  humble.  This,  however,  was  not  a  matter 
speedily  to  be  accomplished.  Plan  after  plan  was  formed, 
and  plan  after  plan  failed.  The  good-humored  cheek  of 
Jeanie  lost  the  first  flush  of  juvenile  freshness  ;  Reuben's  brow 
assumed  the  gravity  of  manhood  ;.yet  the  means  of  obtaining 
a  settlement  seemed  remote  as  ever.  Fortunately  for  the 
lovers,  their  passion  was  of  no  ardent  or  enthusiastic  cast ; 


84  WAVE  RLE  Y  NOVELS  ' 

and  a  sense  of  duty  on  both  sides  induced  them  to  bear  witii 
patient  fortitude  the  protracted  interval  which  divided  them 
from  eacli  other. 

In  the  meanwhile,  time  did  not  roll  on  without  effecting 
his  usual  changes.  The  widow  of  Stephen  Butler,  so  long  the 
prop  of  the  family  of  Beersheba,  was  gathered  to  her  fathers  ; 
and  Rebecca,  the  careful  spouse  of  our  friend  Davie  Deans,  was 
also  summoned  from  her  plans  of  matrimonial  and  domestic 
economy.  The  morning  after  her  death,  Eeuben  Butler  went 
to  offer  his  mite  of  consolation  to  his  old  friend  and  benefac- 
tor. He  witnessed,  on  this  occasion,  a  remarkable  struggle 
betwixt  the  force  of  natural  affection  and  the  religious  stoi- 
cism which  tlie  sufferer  thought  it  w^s  incumbent  upon  him 
to  maintain  under  each  earthly  dispensation,  whether  of  weal 
or  woe. 

On  his  arrival  at  the  cottage,  Jeanie,  with  her  eyes  over- 
sowing with  tears,  pointed  to  the  little  orchard,  "  in  which," 
she  whispered  with  broken  accents,  "  my  poor  father  has  been 
since  his  misfortune."  Somewhat  alarmed  at  this  account, 
Butler  entered  the  orchard,  and  advanced  slowly  towards  his 
old  friend,  who,  seated  in  a  small  rude  arbor,  appeared  to  be 
sunk  in  the  extremity  of  his  affliction.  He  lifted  his  eyes 
somewhat  sternly  as  Butler  approached,  as  if  offended  at  the 
interruption  ;  but  as  the  young  man  hesitated  whether  he  ought 
to  retreat  or  advance,  he  arose  and  came  forward  to  meet  him 
with  a  self-possessed  and  even  dignified  air. 

"Young  man,"  said  the  sufferer,  "lay  it  not  to  heart 
though  the  righteous  perish  and  the  merciful  are  removed, 
seeing,  it  may  well  be  said,  that  they  are  taken  away  from  the 
evils  to  come.  Woe  to  me,  were  I  to  shed  a  tear  for  the  wife 
of  my  bosom,  when  I  might  weep  rivers  of  water  for  this  af- 
flicted church,  cursed  as  it  is  with  carnal  seekers  and  with  the 
dead  of  heart." 

"I  am  happy,"  said  Butler,  "  that  you  can  forget  your 
private  affliction  in  your  regard  for  public  duty." 

"Forget,  Reuben  ?"  said  poor  Deans,  putting  his  handker- 
chief to  his  eyes.  "She's  not  to  be  forgotten  on  this  side  of 
time  ;  but  He  that  gives  the  wound  can  send  the  ointment.  I 
declare  there  have  been  times  during  this  night  when  my  medi- 
tation has  been  so  wrapped  that  I  knew  not  of  my  heavy  loss. 
It  has  been  with  me  as  with  the  worthy  John  Semple,  called 
Carspharn  John,*  upon  a  like  trial  :  I  have  been  this  night 
on  the  banks  of  Ulai,  pluclving  an  apple  here  and  there." 

Notwithstanding  tlie  assumed  fortitude  of  Deans,  which 

*  See  Note  15^ 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  85 

he  conceived  to  be  the  dischai-ge  of  a  great  Christian  duty, 
he  had  too  good  a  heart  not  to  suifer  deeply  under  this  heavy 
loss.  Woodend  became  altogetlier  distasteful  to  him  ;  and  ar 
he  had  obtained  both  substance  and  experience  by  his  manage- 
ment of  that  little  farm,  he  resolved  to  employ  them  as  a 
dairy-farmer,  or  cow-feeder,  as  they  are  called  in  Scotland. 
The  situation  he  chose  for  his  new  settlement  was  at  a  place 
called  St.  Leonard's  Crags,  lying  betwixt  Edinburgh  and  the 
mountain  called  Arthurs  Seat,  and  adjoining  to  the  extensive 
sheep  pasture  still  named  the  King's  Park,  from  its  having 
been  formerly  dedicated  to  the  preservation  of  the  royal  game. 
Here  he  rented  a  small  lonely  house,  about  half  a  mile  dis- 
tant from  the  nearest  point  of  the  city,  but  the  site  of  which, 
with  all  the  adjacent  ground,  is  now  occupied  by  the  build- 
ings which  form  the  south-eastern  suburb.  An  extensive 
pasture-ground  adjoining,  which  Deans  rented  from  the 
keeper  of  the  Eoyal  Park,  enabled  him  to  feed  his  milk- 
cows  ;  and  the  unceasing  industry  and  activity  of  Jeanie.  his 
eldest  daughter,  was  exerted  in  making  the  most  of  their 
produce. 

She  had  now  less  frequent  oj)portunities  of  seeing  Eeuben, 
who  had  been  obliged,  after  various  disappointments,  to  ac- 
cept the  subordinate  situation  of  assistant  in  a  parochial 
school  of  some  eminence,  at  three  or  four  miles'  distance 
from  the  city-  Here  he  distinguished  himself,  and  became 
acquainted  with  several  respectable  burgesses,  who,  on  ac- 
count of  health  or  other  reasons,  chose  that  their  children 
should  commence  their  education  in  this  little  village.  His 
prospects  were  thus  gradually  brightening,  and  upon  each 
visit  which  he  paid  at  St.  Leonard's  he  had  an  opportunity 
of  gliding  a  hint  to  this  purpose  into  Jeanie's  ear.  These 
visits  were  necessarily  very  rare,  on  account  of  the  demands 
which  the  duties  of  the  school  made  upon  Butler's  time. 
Nor  did  he  dare  to  make  them  even  altogether  so  frequent  as 
these  avocations  Avould  permit.  Deans  received  him  with 
civility  indeed,  and  even  with  kindness  :  but  Eeuben.  as  is 
usual  in  such  cases,  imagined  that  he  read  his  purpose  in  his 
eyes,  and  was  afraid  too  premature  an  explanation  on  the  sub- 
ject would  draw  down  liis  positive  disapproval.  Upon  the 
whole,  therefore,  he  judged  it  prudent  to  call  at  St.  Leon- 
ard's just  so  frequently  as  old  acquaintance  and  neighborhood 
seemed  to  authorize,  alid  no  of  tener.  There  was  another  per- 
son who  was  more  regular  in  his  visits. 

When  Davie  Deans  intimated  tothe  Lairdof  Dnmbiedikes 
his  purpose  of  "quitting  wi'  the  land  and  house  at  Woodend." 


86  WAVERLEJ:  NOVELS 

the  Laird  stared  and  said  nothing.  He  made  his  nsual  visits  at 
the  usual  hour  without  remark,  until  the  day  before  the  term, 
when,  observing  the  bustle  of  moving  furniture  already  com- 
menced, the  great  east-country  ''awmrie^'  dragged  out  of  its 
nook,  and  standing  with  its  shoulder  to  the  company,  like  an 
awkward  booby  about  to  leave  the  room,  the  Laird  again  stared 
mightily,  and  was  heard  to  ejaculate,  "Hegh,  sirs!"  Even 
after  the  day  of  departure  was  past  and  gone,  the  Laird  of  Dum- 
biedikes,  at  his  usual  hour,  which  was  that  at  which  David 
Deans  was  wont  to  ^''  loose  the  pleugli,"  presented  himself  before 
the  closed  door  of  the  cottage  at  Woodend,  and  seemed  as  much 
astonished  at  finding  it  shut  against  his  approach  as  if  it  was 
not  exactly  what  he  had  to  expect.  On  this  occasion  he  was 
heard  to  ejaculate,  "  G-ude  guide  us  ! "  which,by  those  who  knew 
him,  was  considered  as  a  very  unusual  mark  of  emotion.  From 
that  moment  forward,  Dumbiedikes  became  an  altered  man, 
and  the  regularity  of  his  movements,  hitherto  so  exemplary, 
was  as  totally  disconcerted  as  those  of  a  boy's  watch  when  he 
has  broken  the  main-spring.  Like  the  index  of  the  said  watch, 
did  Dumbiedikes  spin  round  the  whole  bounds  of  his  little 
propertv,  which  may  be  likened  unto  the  dial  of  the  time- 
piece, with  unwonted  velocity.  There  was  not  a  cottage  into 
which  he  did  not  enter,  nor  scarce  a  maiden  on  whom  he  did 
not  stare.  But  so  it  was,  that  although  there  were  better  farm- 
houses on  the  land  than  Woodend,  and  certainly  much  prettier 
girls  than  Jeanie  Deans,  yet  it  did  somehow  befall  that  the 
blank  in  the  Laird's  time  was  not  so  pleasantly  filled  up  as  it 
had  been.  There  was  no  seat  accommodated  him  so  well  as  the 
"bunker"  at  Woodend,  and  no  face  he  loved  so  much  to  gaze 
on  as  Jeanie  Deans's.  So,  after  spinning  round  and  round  his 
little  orbit,  and  then  remaining  stationary  for  a  week,  it  seems 
to  have  occurred  to  him  that  he  was  not  pinned  down  to  cir- 
culate on  a  pivot,  like  the  hands  of  the  watch,  but  possessed 
the  power  of  shifting  his  central  point  and  extending  his  circle 
if  he  thought  proper.  To  realize  which  privilege  of  change 
of  place,  he  bought  a  pony  from  a  Highland  drover,  and  with 
its  assistance  and  company  stepped,  or  rather  stumbled,  as  far 
as  St.  Leonard's  Crags. 

Jeanie  Deans,  though  so  much  accustomed  to  the  Laird's 
staring  that  she  was  sometimes  scarce  conscious  of  his  presence, 
had  nevertheless  some  occasional  fears  lest  he  should  call  in 
the  organ  of  speech  to  back  those  expressions  of  admiration 
which  he  bestowed  on  her  through  his  eyes.  Should  this 
happen,  farewell,  she  thought,  to  all  chance  of  a  union  with 
Butler.     For   her  father,  liowever  stout-hearted  and  inde- 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  87 

pendent  in  civil  and  religious  principles,  was  not  without  that 
respect  for  the  iiiird  of  the  land  so  deeply  imprinted  on  the 
Scottish  tenantry  of  the  period.  Moreover,  if  he  did  not  posi- 
tively dislike  Butler,  yet  his  fund  of  carnal  learning  was  often 
the  object  of  sarcasms  on  David's  part,  which  were  perhaps 
founded  in  jealousy,  and  which  certainly  indicated  no  partial- 
ity for  the  party  against  whom  they  were  launched.  And, 
lastly,  the  match  with  Dumbiedikes  would  have  presented 
irresistible  charms  to  one  who  used  to  complain  that  he  felt- 
himself  apt  to  take  "ower  grit  an  armfu'  o'  the  warld."  So 
that,  upon  the  whole,  tlie  Laird's  diurnal  visits  were  disagree- 
able to  Jeanie  from  apprehension  of  future  consequences,  and 
it  served  much  to  console  her,  upon  removing  from  the  spot 
where  she  was  bred  and  born,  that  she  had  seen  the  last  of 
Dumbiedikes,  his  laced  hat,  and  tobacco-pipe.  The -poor  girl 
no  more  expected  he  could  muster  courage  to  follow  her  to  St. 
Leonard's  Crags  than  tliat  any  of  her  apple-trees  or  cabbages, 
which  she  had  left  rooted  in  the  "^yard"  at  Woodend,  would 
spontaneously,  and  unaided,  have  undertaken  the  same  jour- 
ney. It  was,  therefore,  with  much  more  surprise  than  pleas- 
ure that,  on  the  sixth  day  after  their  removal  to  St.  Leonard's, 
she  beheld  Dumbiedikes  arrive,  laced  hat,  tobacco-pipe,  and 
all,  and,  with  the  self -same  greeting  of  "  How's  a'  wi'  ye, 
Jeanie  ?  Whare's  the  gudeman  ? "  assume  as  nearly  as  he 
could  the  same  position  in  the  cottage  at  St.  Leonard's  which 
he  had  so  long  and  so  regularly  occupied  at  Woodend.  He 
was  no  sooner,  however,  seated  than,  with  an  unusual  exertion 
of  his  powers  of  conversation,  he  added,  "Jeanie — I  say, 
Jeanie,  woman;"  here  he  extended  his  hand  towards  her 
shoulder  with  all  the  fingers  spread  out  as  if  to  clutch  it,  but 
in  so  bashful  and  awkward  a  manner  that,  when  she  whisked 
herself  beyond  its  reach,  the  paw  remained  suspended  in  the 
air  with  the  palm  open,  like  the  claw  of  an  heraldic  griffin. 
"Jeanie,"  continued  the  swain,  in  this  moment  of  inspiration 
— "I  say,  Jeanie,  it's  a  braw  day  out-bye,  and  the  roads  are 
ao  that  ill  for  boot-hose." 

"  The  deil's  in  the  daidlingbody,"  muttered  Jeanie  between 
her  teeth  ;  "  wha  wad  hae  thought  o'  his  daikering  out  this 
length  ? "  And  she  afterwards  confessed  that  she  threw  a 
little  of  this  ungracious  sentiment  into  her  accent  and  man- 
ner;  for  her  father  being  abroad,  and  the  "body,"  as  she 
irreverently  termed  the  landed  proprietor,  "looking  unco  gleg 
and  canty,  she  didna  ken  what  he  might  be  coming  out  wi' 
next." 

Her  frowns,  however,  acted  as  a  complete  sedative,  and 


88  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

the  Laird  relapsed  from  that  day  into  his  former  taciturn 
habits,  visiting  the  cow-feeder's  cottage  three  or  four  times 
every  week,  when  the  weather  permitted,  with  apparently  no 
other  purpose  than  to  stare  at  Jeanie  Deans,  while  Douce 
Davie  poured  forth  his  eloquence  upon  the  controversies  and 
testimonies  of  the  day. 


CHAPTER  X 

Her  air,  her  manners,  all  who  saw  admired, 
Courteous,  though  coy,  and  gentle,  though  retired ; 
The  joy  of  youth  and  health  her  eyes  display'd, 
And  ease  of  heart  her  every  look  convey'd. 

Crabbe. 

The  visits  of  the  Laird  thus  again  sunk  into  matters  of  ordi- 
nary course,  from  which  nothing  was  to  be  expected  or  appre- 
hended. If  a  lover  could  have  gained  a  fair  one  as  a  snake  is 
said  to  fascinate  a  bird,  by  pertinaciously  gazing  on  her  with 
great  stupid  greenish  eyes,  which  began  now  to  be  occasion- 
ally aided  by  spectacles,  unquestionably  Dumbiedikes  would 
have  been  tlie  person  to  perform  the  feat.  But  the  art  of 
fascination  seems  among  the  artes  ijerditw,  and  I  cannot  learn 
that  this  most  j)ertinacious  of  starers  produced  any  effect  by 
his  attentions  beyond  an  occasional  yawn. 

In  the  meanwhile,  the  object  of  his  gaze  was  gradually  at- 
taining the  verge  of  youth,  and  approaching  to  what  is  called 
in  females  the  middle  age,  whicli  is  impolitely  held  to  begin 
a  few  years  earlier  with  their  more  fragile  sex  than  with  men. 
Many  people  would  have  beenof  opinion  that  the  Laird  would 
have  done  better  to  have  transferred  his  glances  to  an  object 
possessed  of  far  superior  charms  to  Jeanie's,  even  when  Jeanie's 
were  in  their  bloom,  who  began  now  to  be  distinguished  by  all 
who  visited  the  cottage  at  St.  Leonard's  Crags. 

Effie  Deans,  under  the  tender  and  affectionate  care  of  her 
sister,  had  now  shot  up  into  a  beautiful  and  blooming  girl. 
Her  Grecian-shaped  head  was  j^rof usely  rich  in  waving  ringlets 
of  brown  hair,  which,  confined  by  a  blue  snood  of  silk,  and 
shading  a  laughing  Hebe  countenance,  seemed  the  picture  of 
health,  pleasure,  and  contentment.  Her  brown  russet  short- 
gown  set  off  a  shape  which  time,  perhaps,  might  be  expected 
to  render  too  robust,  the  frequent  objection  to  Scottish  beauty, 
but  which,  in  lier  present  early  age,  was  slender  and  taper, 
with  that  graceful  and  easy  sweep  of  outline  which  at  once 
indicates  health  and  beautiful  proportion  of  parts. 

These  growing  charms,  in  all  their  juvenile  profusion,  had 


W)  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

no  power  to  shake  the  steadfast  mind,  or  divert  the  fixed  gaze, 
of  the  constant  Laird  of  Dunibiedikes.  But  there  was  scarce 
another  eye  tliat  could  behold  this  living  picture  of  health  and 
beauty  without  pausing  on  it  with  pleasure.  The  traveller 
stopped  his  weary  horse  on  the  eve  of  entering  the  city  which 
was  the  end  of  his  journey,  to  gaze  at  the  sylph-like  form  that 
tripped  by  him,  with  her  milk -pail  poised  on  her  head,  bearing 
herself  so  erect,  and  stepping  so  light  and  free  under  her  bur- 
den, that  it  seemed  rather  an  ornament  than  an  encumbrance. 
The  lads  of  the  neighboring  suburb,  who  held  their  evening 
rendezvous  for  putting  the  stone,  casting  the  hammer,  play- 
ing at  long  bowls,  and  other  athletic  exercises,  watched  the 
motions  of  Effie  Deans,  and  contended  with  each  other  which 
should  have  the  good  fortune  to  attract  her  attention.  Even 
the  rigid  Presbyterians  of  her  father's  persuasion,  who  held 
each  indulgence  of  the  eye  and  sense  to  be  a  snare  at  least,  if 
not  a  crime,  were  surprised  into  a  moment's  delight  while 
gazing  on  a  creature  so  exquisite — instantly  checked  by  a 
sigh,  reproaching  at  once  their  own  weakness,  and  mourning 
that  a  creature  so  fair  should  share  in  the  common  and  hered- 
itary guilt  and  imperfection  of  our  nature.  She  was  currently 
entitled  the  Lily  of  St.  Leonard's,  a  name  which  she  deserved 
as  much  by  her  guileless  purity  of  thought,  speech,  and  ac- 
tion as  by  her  uncommon  loveliness  of  face  and  person. 

Yet  there  were  points  in  Effie's  character  which  gave  rise 
not  only  to  strange  doubt  and  anxiety  on  the  part  of  Douce 
David  Deans,  whose  ideas  were  rigid,  as  may  easily  be  sup- 
posed, upon  the  subject  of  youthful  amusements,  but  even  of 
serious  apprehension  to  her  more  indulgent  sister.  The  chil- 
dren of  the  Scotch  of  the  inferior  classes  are  usually  spoiled 
by  the  early  indulgence  of  their  parents ;  how,  wherefore, 
and  to  what  degree,  the  lively  and  instructive  narrative  of 
the  amiable  and  accomplished  authoress*  of  Glenbia^nie  has 
saved  me  and  all  future  scribblers  the  trouble  of  recording. 
Effie  had  had  a  double  share  of  this  inconsiderate  and  mis- 
judged kindness.  Even  the  strictness  of  her  father's  princi- 
ples could  not  condemn  the  sports  of  infancy  and  childhood ; 
and  to  the  good  old  man  his  younger  daughter,  the  child  ol 
his  old  age,  seemed  a  child  for  some  years  after  she  attained 
the  years  of  womanhood,  was  still  called  the  "'bit  lassie  "  and 
"  little  Effie,"  and  was  permitted  to  run  up  and  down  uncon- 
trolled, unless  upon  the  Sabbath  or  at  the  times  of  family 
worship.  Her  sister,  with  all  the  love  and  care  of  a  mother, 
could  not  be  supposed  to  possess  the  same  authoritative  id 

*  Mrs.  Elizabeth  Hamilton. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  91 

flnence ;  and  that  wliich  she  had  hitherto  exercised  became 
gradually  limited  and  diminished  as  Effie's  advancing  years 
entitled  her,  in  her  own  conceit  at  least,  to  the  right  of  inde- 
nendence  and  free  agency.  With  all  the  innocence  and  good- 
ness of  disposition,  therefore,  which  we  have  described,  the 
Lily  of  St.  Leonard's  possessed  a  little  fund  of  self-conceit 
and  obstinacy,  and  some  warmth  and  irritability  of  temper, 
partly  natural  perhaps,  but  certainly  much  increased  by  the 
unrestrained  freedom  of  her  childhood.  Her  character  will 
be  best  illustrated  by  a  cottage  evening  scene. 

The  careful  father  was  absent  in  his  well-stocked  byre, 
foddering  those  useful  and  patient  animals  on  whose  produce 
his  living  depended,  and  the  summer  evening  was  beginning 
to  close  in,  when  Jeanie  Deans  began  to  be  very  anxious  for 
the  appearance  of  her  sister,  and  to  fear  that  she  would  not 
reach  home  before  her  father  returned  from  the  labor  of  the 
evening,  when  it  was  his  custom  to  have  "  family  exercise,'* 
and  when  she  knew  that  Effie's  absence  would  give  him  the 
most  serious  displeasure.  These  apprehensions  hung  heavier 
upon  her  mind  because,  for  several  preceding  evenings,  Effie 
had  disappeared  about  the  same  time,  and  her  stay,  at  first  so 
brief  as  scarce  to  be  noticed,  had  been  gradually  protracted  to 
half  an  hour,  and  an  hour,  and  on  the  present  occasion  had 
considerably  exceeded  even  this  last  limit.  And  now  Jeanie 
stood  at  the  door,  with  her  hand  before  her  eyes  to  avoid  the 
rays  of  the  level  sun,  and  looked  alternately  along  the  various 
tracks  which  led  towards  their  dwelling,  to  see  if  she  could 
descry  the  nymph-like  form  of  her  sister.  There  was  a  wall 
and  a  stile  which  separated  the  royal  domain,  or  King's  Park, 
as  it  is  called,  from  the  public  road  ;  to  this  pass  she  fre- 
quently directed  her  attention,  when  she  saw  two  persons  ap- 
pear there  somewhat  suddenly,  as  if  they  had  walked  close  by 
the  side  of  the  wall  to  screen  themselves  from  observation. 
One  of  them,  a  man,  drew  back  hastily  ;  the  other,  a  female, 
crossed  the  stile  and  advanced  towards  her.  It  was  Effie. 
She  met  her  sister  with  that  affected  liveliness  of  manner 
which,  in  her  rank,  and  sometimes  in  those  above  it,  females 
occasionally  assume  to  hide  surprise  or  confusion ;  and  she 
carolled  as  she  came — 

"  The  elfin  knight  sate  on  the  brae, 

The  broom  grows  bonny,  the  broom  grows  fair  ; 
And  by  there  came  lilting  a  lady  so  gay, 
And  we  daurna  gang  down  to  the  broom  nae  mair." 

"Whisht,  Effie,"  said  her  sister;  *' our  father's  coming 


93  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

out  o'  the  byre/'  The  damsel  stinted  in  her  song.  "  Whare 
hae  ye  been  sae  late  at  e'en  ?  " 

"It's  no  lute,  lass,"  answered  Effie. 

'*  It's  chappit  eight  on  every  clock  o'  the  town,  and  the 
sun's  gaun  down  ahint  the  Corstorphine  Hills.  Whare  can 
ye  hae  been  sae  late  ?" 

"Nae  gate,"  answered  Effie. 

"  And  wha  was  that  parted  wi'  you  at  the  stile  ?" 

"  Naebody/^  replied  Effie  once  more. 

"  Nae  gate  !  Naebody  !  I  wish  it  may  be  a  right  gate^ 
and  a  right  body,  that  keeps  folk  out  sae  late  at  e'en, 
Effie." 

"  What  needs  ye  be  aye  speering,  then,  at  folk  ?"  retorted 
Effie.  "I'm  sure,  if  ye'll  ask  nae  questions,  I'll  tell  ye  nae 
lees.  I  never  ask  what  brings  the  Laird  of  Dumbiedikes 
glowering  here  like  a  wull-cat — only  his  een's  greener,  and 
no  sae  gleg — day  after  day,  till  we  are  a'  like  to  gaunt  our 
chafts  aff." 

"  Because  ye  ken  very  weel  he  comes  to  see  our  father," 
said  Jeanie,  in  answer  to  this  pert  remark. 

"And  Dominie  Butler — does  he  come  to  see  our  father, 
that's  sae  taen  wi'  his  Latin  words  ?  "  said  Effie,  delighted  to 
find  tliat,  by  carrying  the  war  into  the  enemy's  country,  she 
could  divert  the  threatened  attack  upon  herself,  and  with  the 
petulance  of  youth  she  pursued  her  triumph  over  her  prudent 
elder  sister.  She  looked  at  her  with  a  sly  air,  in  which  there 
was  something  like  irony,  as  she  chanted,  in  a  low  but  marked 
tone,  a  scrap  of  an  old  Scotch  song — 

"  Through  the  kirkyard 
I  met  wi'  the  Laird ; 

The  silly  puir  body  he  said  me  nae  harm. 
But  just  ere  'twas  dark, 
I  met  wi  the  clerk —  " 

Here  the  songstress  stopped,  looked  full  at  her  sister,  and, 
observing  the  tear  gather  in  her  eyes,  she  suddenly  flung  her 
arms  round  her  neck  and  kissed  them  away.  Jeanie,  tliough 
hurt  and  displeased,  was  unable  to  resist  the  caresses  of  this 
untaught  child  of  nature,  whose  good  and  evil  seemed  to  flow 
rather  from  impulse  than  from  reflection.  But  as  she  returned 
the  sisterly  kiss,  in  token  of  perfect  reconciliation,  she  could 
not  suppress  the  gentle  reproof — "Effie,  if  ye  will  learn  fule 
sangs,  ye  might  make  a  kinder  use  of  them." 

"And  so  I  might,  Jeanie,"  continued  the  girl,  clinging  to 
her  sister's  neck  ;  ' '  and  I  wish  I  had  never  learned  ane  0""  them. 


THE  HEART  OE  MIDLOTHIAN  93 

and  I  wish  we  had  never  come  here,  and  I  wish  my  tongue 
had  been  blistered  or  I  had  vexed  ye." 

"  Never  mind  that,  Effie,"  replied  the  affectionate  sister. 
''I  canna  be  mnckle  vexed  wi'  onything  ye  say  to  me  ;  but  0 
dinna  vex  our  father  !  " 

"I  will  not — I  will  not,"  replied Effie  ;  "  and  if  there  were 
as  mony  dances  the  morn's  night  as  there  are  merry  dancers 
in  the  north  firmament  on  a  frosty  e'en,  I  winna  budge  an  inch 
to  gang  near  ane  o'  them." 

''Dance!"  echoed  Jeanie  Deans  in  astonishment.  "0, 
Effie,  what  could  take  ye  to  a  dance  ?  " 

It  is  very  possible  that,  in  the  comlnunicative  mood  into 
which  the  Lily  of  St.  Leonard's  was  noAv  surprised,  she  might 
have  given  her  sister  her  unreserved  confidence,  and  saved  me 
the  pain  of  telling  a  melancholy  tale  ;  but  at  the  moment  the 
word  "dance"  was  uttered,  it  reached  the  ear  of  old  David 
Deans,  who  had  turned  the  corner  of  the  house,  and  came  upon 
his  daughters  ere  they  were  aware  of  his  presence.  The  word 
''prelate,"  or  even  the  word  "pope,"  could  hardly  have  pro- 
duced so  appalling  an  effect  upon  David's  ear ;  for,  of  all  ex- 
ercises, that  of  dancing,  which  he  termed  a  voluntary  and  regu- 
lar fit  of  distraction,  he  deemed  most  destructive  of  serious 
thoughts,  and  the  readiest  inlet  to  all  sort  of  licentiousness  ; 
and  he  accounted  the  encouraging,  and  even  permitting,  as- 
semblies or  meetings,  whether  among  those  of  high  or  low  de- 
gree, for  this  fantastic  and  absurd  purpose,  or  for  that  of 
dramatic  representations,  as  one  of  the  most  flagrant  proofs 
of  defection  and  causes  of  wrath.  The  pronouncing  of  the 
word  "dance  " by  his  own  daughters,  and  at  his  own  door,  now 
drove  him  beyond  the  verge  of  patience.  "  Dance  !  "  he  ex- 
claimed. "  Dance — dance,  said  ye  ?  I  daur  ye,  limmersthat 
ye  are,  to  name  sic  a  word  at  my  door-cheek  !  It's  a  dissolute 
profane  pastime,  practised  by  the  Israelites  only  at  their  base 
and  brutal  worship  of  the  Golden  Calf  at  Bethel,  and  by  the 
unhappy  lass  wha  danced  aff  ^he  head  of  John  the  Baptist, 
upon  whilk  chapter  I  will  exercise  this  night  for  your  farther 
instruction,  since  ye  need  it  sae  muckle,  nothing  doubting 
that  she  has  cause  to  rue  the  day,  lang  or  this  time,  that  e'er 
she  suld  hae  shook  a  limb  on  sic  an  errand.  Better  for  her  to 
hae  been  born  a  cripple,  and  carried  f  rae  door  to  door,  like  auld 
Bessie  Bowie,  begging  bawbees,  than  to  be  a  king's  daughter, 
fiddling  and  flinging  the  gate  she  did.  I  hae  often  Avondered 
that  ony  ane  that  ever  bent  a  knee  for  the  right  purpose  should 
ever  daur  to  crook  a  hough  to  fyke  and  fling  at  piper's  wind 
and  fiddler's  squealing.     And  I  bless  God,  with  that  singular 


94  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

worthy,  Peter  [Patrick]  "Walker,*  the  packman,  at  BristoPort,, 
that  ordered  my  lot  in  my  dancing  days  so  that  fear  of  my  head 
and  throat,  dread  of  bloody  rope  and  swift  bnllet,  and  trenchant 
swords  and  pain  of  boots  and  thumkins,  canld  and  hunger, 
wetness  and  weariness,  stopped  the  lightness  of  my  head  and 
the  wantonness  of  my  feet.  And  now,  if  I  hear  ye,  quean 
lassies,  sae  muckle  as  name  dancing,  or  think  there's  sic  a 
thing  in  this  warld  as  flinging  to  fiddler's  sounds  and  piper's 
springs,  as  sure  as  my  father's  spirit  is  with  the  just,  ye  shall 
be  no  more  either  charge  or  concern  of  mine  !  Gang  in,  then 
— gang  in,  then,  hinnies,"  he  added,  in  a  softer  tone,  for  the 
tears  of  both  daughters,  but  especially  those  of  Effie,  began  to 
flow  very  fast — "  g'^T^g  iii?  dears,  and  we'll  seek  grace  to  pre- 
serve us  frae  all  manner  of  profane  folly,  whilk  causeth  to  sin, 
and  promoteth  the  kingdom  of  darkness,  warring  with  the 
kingdom  of  light." 

The  objurgation  of  David  Deans,  however  well  meant,  was 
unhappily  timed.  It  created  a  division  of  feelings  in  Effie's 
bosom,  and  deterred  her  from  her  intended  confidence  in  her 
sister.  "  She  wad  haud  me  nae  better  than  the  dirt  below  her 
feet,"  said  Effie  to  herself,  "  were  I  to  confess  I  hae  danced 
•wi'  him  four  times  on  the  green  down-bye,  and  ance  at  Maggie 
Macqueen's  ;  and  she'll  maybe  hing  it  ower  my  head  that  she'll 
tell  my  father,  and  then  she  wad  be  mistress  and  mair.  But 
I'll  no  gang  back  there  again.  I'm  resolved  I'll  no  gang  back. 
I'll  lay  in  a  leaf  of  my  Bible,  f  and  that's  very  near  as  if  I  had 
made  an  aitli,  that  I  winna  gang  back."  And  she  kept  her 
vow  for  a  week,  during  which  she  was  unusually  cross  and  fret- 
ful, blemishes  which  had  never  before  been  observed  in  her 
temper,  except  during  a  moment  of  contradiction. 

There  was  something  in  all  this  so  mysterious  as  consider- 
ably to  alarm  the  prudent  and  affectionate  Jeanie,  the  more 
so  as  she  judged  it  unkind  to  her  sister  to  mention  to  their 
father  grounds  of  anxiety  which  might  arise  from  her  own 
imagination.  Besides,  her  respect  for  the  good  old  man  did 
not  prevent  her  from  being  aware  that  he  was  both  hot-tem- 
pered and  positive,  and  she  sometimes  suspected  that  he  carried 
his  dislike  to  youthful  amusements  beyond  the  verge  that  re- 
ligion and  reason  demanded.  Jeanie  had  sense  enough  to 
see  that  a  sudden  and  severe  curb  upon  her  sister's  hitherto 
unrestrained  freedom  might  be  rather  productive  of  harm  than 
good,  and  that  Effie,  in  the  headstrong  wilfulness  of  youth, 

*  See  Patrick  Walker.    Note  16. 

t  This  custom,  of  making  a  mark  by  folding  a  leaf  in  the  party's  Bible  when  a 
solemn  resolution  is  formed,  is  still  held  to  be,  in  some  sense,  an  appeal  to  Heaven 
for  his  or  her  sincerity. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  95 

was  likely  to  make  what  might  be  overstrained  in  her  father's 
precepts  an  excuse  to  herself  for  neglecting  them  altogether. 
In  the  higher  classes  a  damsel,  however  giddy,  is  still  under 
the  dominion  of  etiquette,  and  subject  to  the  surveillance  of 
mammas  and  chaperons  ;  but  the  country  girl,  wdio  snatches 
her  moment  of  gayety  during  the  intervals  of  labor,  is  under 
no  such  guardianship  or  restraint,  and  her  amusement  becomes 
so  much  the  more  hazardous.  Jeanie  saw^  all  this  wdth  much 
distress  of  mind,  w^hen  a  circumstance  occurred  Avhich  appeared 
calculated  to  relieve  her  anxiety. 

Mrs.  Saddletree,  with  whom  our  readers  have  already  been 
made  acquainted,  chanced  to  be  a  distant  relation  of  Douce 
David  Deans,  and  as  she  was  a  woman  orderly  in  her  life  and 
conversation,  and,  moreover,  of  good  substance,  a  sort  of  ac- 
quaintance was  formally  kept  up  between  the  families.  Now 
this  careful  dame,  about  a  year  and  a  half  before  our  story 
commences,  chanced  to  need,  in  the  line  of  her  profession,  a 
better  sort  of  servant,  or  rather  shop-woman.  "Mr.  Saddle- 
tree," she  said,  "  was  never  in  the  shop  when  he  could  get  his 
nose  within  the  Parliament  House,  and  it  was  an  awkward 
thing  for  a  woman-body  to  be  standing  among  bundles  o'  bark- 
ened leather  her  lane,  selling  saddles  and  bridles ;  and  she  had 
cast  her  eyes  upon  her  far-awa'  cousin,  EflBe  Deans,  as  just  the 
very  sort  of  lassie  she  would  want  to  keep  her  in  countenance 
on  such  occasions." 

In  this  proposal  there  was  much  that  pleased  old  David  : 
there  was  bed,  board,  and  bountith  ;  it  was  a  decent  situa- 
tion ;  the  lassie  would  be  under  Mrs.  Saddletree's  eye,  who 
had  an  upright  walk,  and  lived  close  by  the  Tolbooth  Kirk, 
in  which  might  still  be  heard  the  comforting  doctrines  of  one 
of  those  few  ministers  of  the  Kirk  of  Scotland  who  had  not 
bent  the  knee  unto  Baal,  according  to  David's  expression,  or 
become  accessory  to  the  course  of  national  defections — union, 
toleration,  jDatronages,  and  a  bundle  of  prelatical  Erastian 
oaths  which  had  been  imposed  on  the  church  siuce  the  Revo- 
lution, and  particularly  in  the  reign  of  '*'  the  late  woman,"  as 
he  called  Queen  Anne,  the  last  of  that  unhappy  race  of 
Stuarts.  In  the  good  man's  secui'ity  concerning  the  sound- 
ness of  the  theological  doctrine  which  his  daughter  was  to 
hear,  he  was  nothing  disturbed  on  account  of  the  snares  of  a 
different  kind  to  which  a  creature  so  beautiful,  young,  and 
wilful  might  be  exposed  in  the  centre  of  a  populous  and  cor- 
rupted city.  The  fact  is,  that  he  thought  with  so  much  horror 
on  all  approaches  to  irregularities  of  the  nature  most  to  be 
dreaded  in  such  cases,  that  he  would  as  soon  have  suspected 


96  WAVE  RLE  y  NOVELS 

and  guarded  against  Effie's  being  induced  to  become  guilty 
of  the  crime  of  murder.  He  only  regretted  that  she  should 
live  under  the  same  roof  Avith  such  a  worldly-wise  man  as 
Bartoline  Saddletree,  whom  David  never  suspected  of  being 
an  ass  as  he  was,  but  considered  as  one  really  endowed  with 
all  the  legal  knowledge  to  which  he  made  pretension,  and 
only  liked  him  the  worse  for  possessing  it.  The  lawyers,  es- 
pecially those  among  them  who  sat  as  ruling  elders  in  the 
Greneral  Assembly  of  the  Kirk,  had  been  forward  in  promot- 
ing the  measures  of  patronage,  of  the  abjuration  oath,  and 
others,  which  in  the  opinion  of  David  Deans  were  a  breaking 
down  of  the  carved  work  of  the  sanctuary,  and  an  intrusion 
upon  the  liberties  of  the  kirk.  Upon  the  dangers  of  listen- 
ing to  the  doctrines  of  a  legalized  formalist,  such  as  Saddle- 
tree, David  gave  his  daughter  many  lectures ;  so  much  so, 
that  he  had  time  to  touch  but  slightly  on  the  dangers  of 
cha'ubering,  company-keeping,  and  promiscuous  dancing,  to 
which,  at  her  time  of  life,  most  people  would  have  thought 
Effie  more  exposed  than  to  the  risk  of  theoretical  error  in 
her  religious  faith. 

Jeanie  parted  from  her  sister  with  a  mixed  feeling  of  re- 
gret, and  apprehension,  and  hope.  She  could  not  be  so  con- 
fident concerning  Effie's  prudence  as  her  father,  for  she  had 
observed  her  more  narrowly,  had  more  sympathy  with  her 
feelings,  and  could  better  estimate  the  temptations  to  which 
she  was  exposed.  On  the  other  hand,  Mrs.  Saddletree  was  an 
observing,  shrewd,  notable  woman,  entitled  to  exercise  over 
Effie  the  full  authority  of  a  mistress,  and  likely  to  do  so 
strictly,  yet  with  kindness.  Her  removal  to  Saddletree's,  it 
was  most  probable,  would  also  serve  to  break  off  some  idle 
acquaintances  which  Jeanie  suspected  her  sister  to  have 
formed  in  the  neighboring  suburb.  Upon  the  whole,  then, 
she  viewed  her  departure  from  St.  Leonard's  with  pleasure, 
aud  it  was  not  until  the  very  moment  of  their  parting  for  the 
first  time  in  their  lives,  that  she  felt  the  full  force  of  sisterly 
sorrow.  While  chey  repeatedly  kissed  each  other's  cheeks  and 
wrung  each  other's  hands,  Jeanie  took  that  moment  of 
affectionate  sympathy  to  press  upon  her  sister  the  necessity  of 
the  utmost  caution  in  her  conduct  while  residing  in  Edin- 
burgh. Effie  listened,  without  once  raising  her  large  dark 
eyelashes,  from  which  the  drops  fell  so  fast  as  almost  to  re- 
semble a  fountain.  At  the  conclusion  she  sobbed  again, 
kissed  her  sister,  promised  to  recollect  all  the  good  counsel  she 
had  given  her,  and  they  parted. 

During  the  first  few  weeks,  Effie  was  all  th^'"^  her  kins- 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  91 

woman  expected,  and  even  more.  But  with  time  there  came 
a  relaxation  of  that  early  zeal  which  she  inaiiil'ested  in  Mrs. 
Saddletree's  service.  To  borrow  once  again  from  the  poet 
who  so  correctly  and  beautifully  describes  living  manners — 

Something  there  was, — what,  none  pi'esumed  to  say, — 
Clouds  lightly  passing  on  a  summer's  day  ; 
Whispers  and  hints,  which  went  from  ear  to  ear. 
And  mix'd  reports  no  judge  on  earth  could  clear. 

During  this  interval,  Mrs.  Saddletree  was  sometimes  dis- 
pleased by  Effie's  lingering  when  she  was  sent  upon  errands 
about  the  shop  business,  and  sometimes  by  a  little  degree  of 
impatience  which  she  manifested  at  being  rebuked  on  such 
occasions.  But  she  good-naturedly  allowed  that  the  first 
was  very  natural  to  a  girl  to  whom  everything  in  Edinburgh 
was  new,  and  the  other  was  only  the  petulance  of  a  spoiled 
child  when  subjected  to  the  yoke  of  domestic  discipline  for 
the  first  time.  Attention  and  submission  could  not  be 
learned  at  once ;  Holy-Rood  was  not  built  in  a  day ;  use 
would  make  perfect. 

It  seemed  as  if  the  considerate  old  lady  had  presaged  truly. 
Ere  many  months  had  passed,  Effie  became  almost  wedded 
to  her  duties,  though  she  no  longer  discharged  them  with 
the  laughing  cheek  and  light  step  which  at  first  had  at- 
tracted every  customer.  Her  mistress  sometimes  observed 
her  in  tears  ;  but  they  were  signs  of  secret  sorrow,  which 
she  concealed  as  often  as  she  saw  them  attract  notice.  Time 
wore  on,  her  cheek  grew  pale,  and  her  step  heavy.  The 
cause  of  these  changes  could  not  have  escaped  the  matronly 
eye  of  Mrs.  Saddletree,  but  she  was  chiefly  confined  by  in- 
disposition to  her  bedroom  for  a  considerable  time  during 
the  latter  part  of  Effie's  service.  This  interval  was  marked 
by  symptoms  of  anguish  almost  amounting  to  despair.  The 
utmost  efforts  of  the  poor  girl  to  command  her  fits  of  hys- 
terical agony  were  often  totally  unavailing,  and  the  mistakes 
which  she  made  in  the  shop  the  while  were  so  numerous 
and  so  provoking,  that  Bartoline  Saddletree,  who,  during 
his  wife's  illness,  was  obliged  to  take  closer  charge  of  the 
business  than  consisted  with  his  study  of  the  weightier 
matters  of  the  law,  lost  all  patience  with  the  girl,  who,  in 
his  law  Latin,  and  v/ithout  much  respect  to  gender,  he 
declared  ought  to  be  cognosced  by  inquest  of  a  jury,  as 
fatuus,  furiosus,  and  naturaliter  idiota.  Neighbors,  also, 
and  fellow-servants,  remarked,  with  malicious  curiosity  or 
degrading  pity,  the  disfigured  shape,  loose  dress,  and  pale 
cheeks  of  the  once  beautiful  and  still  interesting  girl.     But 


98  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

to  no  one  would  she  grant  her  confidence,  answering  all 
taunts  with  bitter  sarcasm,  and  all  serious  expostulation 
with  sullen  denial,  or  with  floods  of  tears. 

At  length,  when  Mrs.  Saddletree's  recovery  was  likely  to 

germit  her  wonted  attention  to  the  regulation  of  her  house- 
old,  Effie  Deans,  as  if  unwilling  to  face  an  investigation 
made  by  the  authority  of  her  mistress,  asked  permission  of 
Bartoline  to  go  home  for  a  week  or  two,  assigning  indisposi- 
tion, and  the  wish  of  trying  the  benefit  of  repose  and  the 
change  of  air,  as  the  motives  of  her  request.  Sharp-eyed  aa 
a  lynx,  or  conceiving  himself  to  be  so,  in  the  nice  sharp 
quillets  of  legal  discussion,  Bartoline  was  as  dull  at  drawing 
inferences  from  the  occurrences  of  common  life  as  any  Dutch 
professor  of  mathematics.  He  suffered  Effie  to  depart 
without  much  suspicion,  and  without  any  inquiry. 

It  was  afterwards  found  that  a  period  of  a  week  inter- 
vened betwixt  her  leaving  her  master's  house  and  arriving 
at  St.  Leonard's.  She  made  her  appearance  before  her 
sister  in  a  state  rather  resembling  the  specter  than  the  living 
substance  of  the  gay  and  beautiful  girl  who  had  left  her 
father's  cottage  for  the  first  time  scarce  seventeen  months 
before.  The  lingering  illness  of  her  mistress  had,  for  the 
last  few  months  given  her  a  plea  for  confining  herself  en- 
tirely to  the  dusky  precincts  of  the  shop  in  the  Lawnniarket, 
and  Jeanie  was  so  much  occupied,  during  the  same  period, 
with  the  concerns  of  her  father's  household,  that  she  had 
rarely  found  leisure  for  a  walk  into  the  city,  and  a  brief  and 
hurried  visit  to  her  sister.  The  young  women,  therefore, 
had  scarcely  seen  each  other  for  several  months,  nor  had  a 
single  scandalous  surmize  reached  the  ears  of  the  secluded 
inhabitants  of  the  cottage  at  St,  Leonard's.  Jeanie,  there- 
fore, terrified  to  death  at  her  sister's  appearance,  at  first 
overwhelmed  her  with  inquiries,  to  which  the  unfortunate 
young  woman  returned  for  a  time  incoherent  and  rambling 
answers,  and  finally  fell  into  a  hysterical  fit.  Eendered  too 
certain  of  her  sister's  misfortune,  Jeanie  had  now  the  dread 
ful  alternative  of  communicating  her  ruin  to  her  father  or 
of  endeavoring  to  conceal  it  from  him.  To  all  questions 
concerning  the  name  or  rank  of  her  seducer,  and  the  fate 
of  the  being  to  whom  her  fall  had  given  birth,  Effie  remained 
mute  as  the  grave,  to  which  she  seemed  hastening ;  and 
indeed  the  least  allusion  to  either  seemed  to  drive  her  to 
distraction.  Her  sister,  in  distress  and  in  despair,  was  about 
to  repair  to  Mrs.  Saddletree  to  consult  her  experience,  and 
at  the  same  time  to  obtain  what  lights  she  could  upon  this 
wioit  unhappy  affair,  when  she  was  saved  that  trouble  by  « 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  90 

aew  stroke  of  fate,  which  seemed  to  carry  misfortune  to  the 
uttermost. 

David  Deans  had  been  ahirmed  at  the  state  of  health  in 
which  his  daughter  had  returned  to  her  paternal  residence  ; 
but  Jeanie  had  contrived  to  divert  him  from  particular  and 
specific  inquiry.  It  was,  therefore,  like  a  clap  of  thunder 
to  the  poor  old  man  when,  just  as  the  hour  of  noon  had 
brought  the  visit  of  the  Laird  of  Dumbiedikes  as  usual, 
other  and  sterner,  as  well  as  most  unexpected,  guests  arrived 
at  the  cottage  of  St.  Leonard's.  These  were  the  officers  of 
justice,  with  a  warrant  of  justiciary  to  search  for  and  ap- 
prehend Euphemia  or  Effie  Deans,  accused  of  the  crime  of 
child-murder.  The  stunning  weight  of  a  blow  so  totally 
unexpected  bore  down  the  old  man,  Avho  had  in  his  early 
youth  resisted  the  brow  of  military  and  civil  tyranny,  though 
backed  with  swords  and  guns,  tortures  and  gibbets.  He 
fell  extended  and  senseless  upon  his  own  hearth  ;  and  the 
men,  happy  to  escape  from  the  scene  of  his  awakening, 
raised,  with  rude  humanit}',  the  object  of  their  warrant  from 
her  bed,  and  placed  her  in  a  coach,  which  they  had  brought 
with  them.  The  hasty  remedies  which  Jeanie  had  applied 
to  bring  back  her  father's  senses  were  scarce  begun  to 
operate  when  the  noise  of  the  wheels  in  motion  recalled  her 
attention  to  her  miserable  sister.  To  run  shrieking  after 
the  carriage  was  the  first  vain  effort  of  her  distraction,  but 
she  was  stopped  by  one  or  two  female  neighbors,  assembled 
by  the  extraordinary  appearance  of  a  coach  in  that  sequestered 
place,  who  almost  forced  her  back  to  her  father's  house. 
The  deep  and  sympathetic  affliction  of  these  poor  people,  by 
whom  the  little  family  at  St.  Leonard's  were  held  in  high 
regard,  filled  the  house  with  lamentation.  Even  Dum- 
biedikes was  moved  from  his  wonted  apathy,  and,  groping 
for  his  purse  as  he  spoke,  ejaculated,  "  Jeanie,  woman  ! — 
Jeanie,  woman  !  dinna  greet.  It's  sad  wark  ;  but  siller  will 
help  it,"  and  he  drew  out  his  purse  as  he  spoke. 

The  old  man  had  now  raised  himself  from  the  ground,  and, 
looking  about  him  as  if  he  missed  something,  seemed  gradu- 
ally to  recover  the  sense  of  his  wretchedness.  "  Where," 
he  said,  with  a  voice  that  made  the  roof  ring — "  where  is 
the  vile  harlot  that  has  disgraced  the  blood  of  an  honest 
man  ?  Where  is  she  that  has  no  place  among  us,  but  has 
come  foul  with  her  sins,  like  the  Evil  One,  among  the 
children  of  God  ?  Where  is  she,  Jeanie  ?  Bring  her  before 
me,  that  I  may  kill  her  with  a  word  and  a  look  !  " 

All  hastened  around  him  with  their  appropriate  sources  of 
consolation — the  Laird  with  his  purse,  Jeanie  with  burned 


100  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

feathers  and  strong  waters,  and  the  women  with  their  exhor- 
tations. "  0  neighbor — 0  Mr.  Deans,  it's  a  sair  trial,  doubt- 
less ;  but  think  of  the  Rock  of  Ages,  neighbor,  think  of  the 
promise  ! " 

"  And  I  do  think  of  it,  neighbors,  and  I  bless  God  that  I 
can  think  of  it,  even  in  the  wrack  and  ruin  of  a'  that's  near- 
est and  dearest  to  me.  But  to  be  the  father  of  a  castaway,  a 
profligate,  a  bloody  Zipporah,  a  mere  murderess  !  0,  how 
will  the  wicked  exult  in  the  high  places  of  their  wickedness  ! 
— the  prelatists,  and  tlie  latitudinarians,  and  the  hand-waled 
murderers,  whose  hands  are  hard  as  horn  wi'  handing  the 
slaughter-weapons  ;  they  will  push  out  the  lip,  and  say  that 
we  are  even  such  as  themselves.  Sair,  sair  I  am  grieved, 
neighbors,  for  the  poor  castaway,  for  the  child  of  mine  old 
age  ;  but  sairer  for  the  stumbling-block  and  scandal  it  will  be 
to  all  tender  and  honest  souls  ! " 

"Davie,  winna  siller  do't?"  insinuated  the  Laird,  still 
proffering  his  green  purse,  which  was  full  of  guineas. 

"  I  tell  ye,  Dumbiedikes."  said  Deans,  '*'  that  if  telling 
down  my  haill  substance  could  hae  saved  her  frae  this  black 
snare,  I  wad  hae  walked  out  wi'  naething  but  my  bonnet 
and  my  staff  to  beg  an  awmous  for  God's  sake,  and  ca'd  my- 
sell  an  happy  man.  But  if  a  dollar,  or  a  plack,  or  the  nine- 
teenth part  of  a  boddle  wad  save  her  open  guilt  and  open 
shame  frae  open  punishment,  that  purchase  wad  David  Deans 
never  make.  Na,  na  ;  an  eye  for  an  eye,  a  tooth  for  a  tooth, 
life  for  life,  blood  for  blood  :  it's  the  law  of  man,  and  it's  the 
law  of  God.  Leave  me,  sirs — leave  me  ;  I  maun  warstle  wi' 
this  trial  in  privacy  and  on  my  knees. " 

Jeanie,  now  in  some  degree  restored  to  the  power  of 
thought,  joined  in  the  same  request.  The  next  day  found  the 
father  and  daughter  still  in  the  depth  of  affliction,  but  the 
father  sternly  supporting  his  load  of  ill  througli  a  proud  sense 
of  religious  duty,  and  the  daughter  anxiously  suppressing  her 
own  feelings  to  avoid  again  awakening  his.  Thus  was  it  with 
the  afflicted  family  until  the  morning  after  Porteous's  deaths 
a  period  at  which  we  are  now  arrived. 


CHAPTER  XI 

Is  all  the  counsel  that  we  two  have  shared, 
The  sisters'  vows,  the  hours  that  we  have  spent 
When  we  have  chid  tiie  hasty-footed  time 
For  parting  vis — Oh  I  and  is  all  forgot  ? 

Midsuinmcr Niyhfs  Dream. 

We  have  been  a  long  while  in  conducting  Butler  to  the  door 
of  the  cottage  at  St.  Leonard's  ;  yet  the  space  which  we  have 
occupied  in  the  preceding  narrative  does  not  exceed  in  length 
that  which  he  actuall}'  s])ent  on  Salisbury  Crags  on  the  morn- 
ing which  succeeded  the  execution  done  upon  Porteousby  the 
rioters.  For  this  delay  he  had  his  own  motives.  He  wished 
to  collect  his  thoughts,  strangely  agitated  as  they  w^ere,  first 
by  the  melancholy  news  of  Effie  Deans's  situation,  and  after- 
wards by  the  frightful  scene  which  he  had  witnessed.  In  the 
situation  also  in  w^hich  he  stood  with  respect  to  Jeanie  and  her 
father,  some  ceremony,  at  least  some  choice  of  fitting  time 
and  season,  was  necessary  to  wait  upon  them.  Eight  in  the 
morning  was  then  the  ordinary  hour  for  breakfast,  and  he  re- 
solved that  it  should  arrive  before  he  made  his  appearance  in 
their  cottage. 

Never  did  hours  pass  so  heavily.  Butler  shifted  his  place 
and  enlarged  his  circle  to  while  away  the  time,  and  heard  the 
huge  bell  of  St.  Giles's  toll  each  successive  hour  in  swelling 
tones,  which  were  instantly  attested  by  those  of  the  other 
steeples  in  succession.  He  had  heard  seven  struck  in  this 
manner,  when  he  began  to  think  he  might  venture  to  approach 
nearer  to  St.  Leonard's,  from  which  he  was  still  a  mile  dis- 
tant. Accordingly  he  descended  from  his  lofty  station  as  low 
as  the  bottom  of  the  valley  which  divides  Salisbury  Crags 
from  those  small  rocks  which  take  their  name  from  St. 
Leonard.  It  is,  as  many  of  my  readers  may  know,  a  deep, 
wild,  grassy  valley,  scattered  with  huge  rocks  and  fragments 
which  have  descended  from  the  cliffs  and  steep  ascent  to  the 
east. 

This  sequestered  dell,  as  well  as  other  places  of  the  open 
pasturage  of  the  King^s  Park,  was,  about  this  time,  often  the 

101 


102  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

resort  of  the  gallants  of  the  time  who  had  affairs  of  honor  to 
discuss  with  the  sword.  Duels  were  then  very  common  in 
Scotland,  for  the  gentry  were  at  once  idle,  haughty,  fierce, 
divided  by  faction,  and  addicted  to  intemperance,  so  that  there 
lacked  neither  provocation  nor  inclination  to  resent  it  when 
given  ;  and  the  sword,  which  was  part  of  every  gentleman's 
dress,  was  the  only  weapon  used  for  the  decision  of  such  dif- 
ferences. When,  therefore,  Butler  observed  a  young  man 
skulking,  apparently  to  avoid  observation,  among  the  scattered 
rocks  at  some  distance  from  the  footpath,  he  was  naturally  led 
to  suppose  that  he  had  sought  this  lonely  spot  upon  that  evil 
errand.  He  was  so  strongly  impressed  with  this  that,  not- 
withstanding his  own  distress  of  mind,  he  could  not,  according 
to  his  sense  of  duty  as  a  clergyman,  pass  this  person  without 
speaking  to  him.  "  There  are  times,''  thought  he  to  himself, 
"  when  the  slightest  interference  may  avert  a  great  calamity — 
when  a  word  spoken  in  season  may  do  more  for  prevention  than 
the  eloquence  of  Tully  could  do  for  remedying  evil.  And  for 
my  own  griefs,  be  they  as  they  may,  I  shall  feel  them  the 
lighter  if  they  divert  me  not    from  the  prosecution  of  my 

duty." 

Thus  thinking  and  feeling,  he  quitted  the  ordinary  path 
and  advanced  nearer  the  object  he  had  noticed.  The  man 
at  first  directed  his  course  towards  the  hill,  in  order,  as  it  ap- 
peared, to  avoid  him  ;  but  when  he  saw  that  Butler  seemed  dis- 
posed to  follow  him,  he  adjusted  his  hat  fiercely,  turned  round 
and  came  forward,  as  if  to  meet  and  defy  scrutiny. 

Butler  had  an  opportunity  of  accurately  studying  his 
features  as  they  advanced  slowly  to  meet  each  other.  The 
stranger  seemed  about  twenty-five  years  old.  His  dress  was  of  a 
kind  which  could  hardly  be  said  to  indicate  his  rank  with  cer- 
tainty, for  it  was  such  as  young  gentlemen  sometimes  wore 
while  on  active  exercise  in  the  morning,  and  which,  therefore, 
was  imitated  by  those  of  the  inferior  ranks,  as  young  clerks 
and  tradesmen,  because  its  cheapness  rendered  it  attainable, 
while  it  approached  more  nearly  to  the  apparel  of  youths  of 
fashion  than  any  other  which  the  manners  of  the  times  per- 
mitted them  to  wear.  If  his  air  and  manner  could  be  trusted, 
however,  this  person  seemed  rather  to  be  dressed  under  than 
above  his  rank  ;  for  his  carriage  was  bold  and  somewhat  su- 
percilious, his  step  easy  and  free,  his  manner  daring  and  un- 
constrained. His  stature  was  of  the  middle  size,  or  rather 
above  it,  his  limbs  well-proportioned,  yet  not  so  strong  as  to 
infer  the  reproach  of  clumsiness.  His  features  were  uncom- 
monly handsome,  and  all  about  him  would  have  been  interest- 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  lOS 

ing  and  prepossessing,  but  for  tliat  indescribable  expression 
which  habitual  dissipation  gives  to  the  countenance,  joined 
with  a  certain  audacity  in  look  and  manner,  of  that  kind  which 
is  often  assumed  as  a  mask  for  confusion  and  apprehension. 

Butler  and  the  stranger  met,  surveyed  each  other ;  when, 
as  the  latter,  slightly  touching  his  hat,  was  about  to  pass  by 
him,  Butler,  while  he  returned  tlie  salutation,  observed,  "A 
fine  morning,  sir.     You  are  on  the  hill  early.''' 

"I  have  business  here,"  said  the  young  man,  in  atone 
meant  to  repress  further  inquiry. 

"  I  do  not  doubt  it,  sir,"  said  Butler.  "  I  trust  you  will 
forgive  my  hoping  that  it  is  of  a  lawful  kind  ?  " 

"■  Sir,"  said  the  other  with  marked  surprise,  "  I  never 
forgive  impertinence,  nor  can  I  conceive  what  title  you  have 
to  hope  anything  about  what  no  way  concerns  you." 

"  I  am  a  soldier,  sir,"  said  Butler,  "  and  have  a  charge  to 
arrest  evil-doers  in  the  name  of  my  Master." 

' '  A  soldier  ! "  said  the  young  man,  stepping  back  and 
fiercely  laying  his  hand  on  his  sword — "  a  soldier,  and  arrest 
me  ?  Did  you  reckon  what  your  life  was  worth  before  you 
took  the  commission  upon  you  ?" 

"^  You  mistake  me,  sir,"  said  Butler,  gravely ;  ''neither 
my  warfare  nor  my  warrant  are  of  this  world.  I  am  a  preacher 
of  the  Gospel,  and  have  power,  in  my  Master's  name,  to 
command  the  peace  upon  earth  and  good-will  towards  men 
which  was  proclaimed  with  the  Gospel." 

"  A  minister  ! "  said  the  stranger,  carelessly,  and  with  an 
expression  approaching  to  scorn.  "  I  know  the  gentlemen 
of  your  cloth  in  Scotland  claim  a  strange  right  of  intermed- 
dling with  men's  private  affairs.  But  I  have  been  abroad, 
and  know  better  than  to  be  priest-ridden." 

"  Sir,  if  it  be  true  that  any  of  my  cloth,  or,  it  might  be 
more  decently  said,  of  my  calling,  interfere  with  men's  pri- 
vate affairs,  for  the  gratification  either  of  idle  curiosity  or  for 
worse  motives,  you  cannot  have  learned  a  better  lesson  abroad 
than  to  contemn  such  practices.  But,  in  my  Masters  work, 
I  am  called  to  be  busy  in  season  and  out  of  season  ;  and,  con- 
scious as  I  am  of  a  pure  motive,  it  were  better  for  me  to  in- 
cur your  contempt  for  sjaeaking  than  the  correction  of  my 
own  conscience  for  being  silent." 

"In  the  name  of  the  devil  !"  said  the  young  man,  impa- 
tiently, ''say  what  you  have  to  say,  then;  though  whom  you 
take  me  for,  or  what  earthly  concern  you  can  have  with  me, 
a  stranger  to  you,  or  with  my  actions  and  motives,  of  which 
you  can  know  nothing,  I  cannot  conjecture  for  an  instant." 


104  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

"Yon  are  about/^  said  Butler,  'Ho  violate  one  of  your 
cour.cr}''^  wisest  laws,  you  are  about — which  is  much  more 
dreadful — to  violate  a  law  which  God  Himself  has  implanted 
within  our  nature,  and  written,  as  it  were,  in  the  table  of  our 
hearts,  to  which  every  thrill  of  our  nerves  is  responsive." 

"'And  what  is  the  law  you  speak  of  ?"  said  the  stranger, 
in  a  hollow  and  somewhat  disturbed  accent. 

"Thou  shalt  do  no  murder,"  said  Butler,  with  a  deep  and 
solemn  voice. 

The  young  man  visibly  started,  and  looked  considerably 
appalled.  Butler  perceived  he  had  made  a  favorable  impres- 
sion, and  resolved  to  follow  it  up.  ' ' Think,"  he  said,  "young 
man,"  laying  his  hand  kindly  upon  the  stranger's  slioulder, 
"  what  an  awful  alternative  you  voluntarily  choose  for  yourself, 
to  kill  or  be  killed.  Think  what  it  is  to  rush  uncalled  into 
the  presence  of  an  offended  Deity,  your  heart  fermenting  with 
evil  passions,  your  hand  hot  from  the  steel  you  had  been 
urging,  with  your  best  skill  and  malice,  against  the  breast  of 
a  fellow-creature.  Or,  suppose  yourself  the  scarce  less  wretched 
survivor,  with  the  guilt  of  Cain,  the  first  murderer,  in  your 
heart,  with  his  stamp  upon  your  brow — that  stamp,  which 
struck  all  who  gazed  on  him  with  unutterable  horror,  and  by 
which  the  murderer  is  made  manifest  to  all  who  look  upon 
him.     Think " 

The  stranger  gradually  withdrew  himself  from  under  the 
hand  of  his  monitor  ;  and,  pulling  his  hat  over  his  brows,  thus 
interrupted  him.  "  Your  meaning,  sir,  I  dare  say,  is  excellent, 
but  you  are  throwing  your  advice  away.  I  am  not  in  this  place 
with  violent  intentions  against  any  one.  I  may  be  bad  enough 
— you  priests  say  all  men  are  so — but  I  am  here  for  the  purpose 
of  saving  life,  not  of  taking  it  away.  If  you  wish  to  spend 
your  time  rather  in  doing  a  good  action  than  in  talking  about 
you  know  not  what,  I  will  give  you  an  opportunity.  Do  you 
see  yonder  crag  to  the  right,  over  which  appears  the  chimney 
of  a  lone  house  ?  Go  thither,  inquire  for  one  Jeanie  Deans, 
the  daughter  of  the  goodman  ;  let  lier  know  that  he  she  wots 
of  remained  here  from  daybreak  till  this  hour,  expecting  to 
see  her,  and  that  he  can  abide  no  longer.  Tell  her  she  must 
meet  me  at  the  Hunter's  Bog  to-night,  as  the  moon  rises  be- 
hind St.  Anthony's  Hill,  or  that  she  will  make  a  desperate 
man  of  me." 

"  Who  or  what  are  you,''  replied  Butler,  exceedingly  and 
most  unpleasantly  surprised,  "who  charge  me  with  such  an 
errand  ?  " 

**I  am  the  devil  !  "  answered  the  young  man,  hastily. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  105 

Butler  stepped  instinctively  back  and  commended  himself 
internally  to  Heaven  ;  for,  though  a  wise  and  strong-minded 
man,  he  was  neither  wiser  nor  more  strong-minded  than  those 
of  his  age  and  education,  with  whom  to  disbelieve  witchcraft 
or  spectres  was  held  an  undeniable  proof  of  atheism. 

The  stranger  went  on  without  observing  his  emotion. 
''Yes!  call  me  Apollyon,  Abaddon,  whatever  name  you 
shall  choose,  as  a  clergyman  acquainted  with  the  upper  and 
lower  circles  of  spiritual  denomination,  to  call  me  by,  you 
shall  not  find  an  appellation  more  odious  to  him  that  bears  it 
than  is  mine  own.'' 

This  sentence  was  spoken  with  the  bitterness  of  self-up- 
braiding, and  a  contortion  of  visage  absolutely  demoniacal. 
Butler,  though  a  man  brave  by  principle,  if  not  by  constitu- 
tion, Avas  overawed  ;  for  intensity  of  mental  distress  has  in  it 
a  sort  of  sublimity  which  repels  and  overawes  all  men,  but 
especially  thoae  of  kind  and  sympathetic  dispositions.  The 
stranger  turned  abruptly  from  Butler  as  he  spoke,  but  in- 
stantly returned,  and,  coming  up  to  him  closely  and  boldly, 
said,  in  a  fierce,  determined  tone,  "  I  have  told  you  who 
and  what  I  am ;  who  and  what  are  you  ?  What  is  your 
name  ?'' 

"Butler,"  answered  the  person  to  whom  this  abrupt  ques- 
tion was  addressed,  surprised  into  answering  it  by  the  sud- 
den and  fierce  manner  of  the  querist — ''Reuben  Butler,  a 
preacher  of  the  Gospel." 

At  this  answer,  the  stranger  again  plucked  more  deep 
over  his  brows  the  hat  which  he  had  thrown  back  in  his 
former  agitation.  "  Butler  \"  he  repeated;  "  the  assistant  of 
the  schoolmaster  at  Liberton  ?  " 

"  The  same,"  answered  Butler,  composedly. 

Tlie  stranger  covered  his  face  with  his  hand,  as  if  on  sud- 
den reflection,  and  then  turned  away  ;  but  stopped  when  he 
had  walked  a  few  paces,  and  seeing  Butler  follow  him  with 
his  eyes,  called  out  in  a  stern  yet  suppressed  tone,  just  as  if 
he  had  exactly  calculated  that  his  accents  should  not  be  heard 
a  yard  beyond  the  spot  on  which  Butler  stood.  "Go  your 
way  and  do  mine  errand.  Do  not  look  after  me.  I  will 
neither  descend  through  the  bowels  of  these  rocks,  nor  vanish 
in  a  flash  of  fire  ;  and  yet  the  eye  that  seeks  to  trace  my 
motions  shall  have  reason  to  curse  it  was  ever  shrouded  by 
eyelid  or  eyelash.  Begone,  and  look  not  behind  you.  Tell 
Jeanie  Deans  that  when  the  moon  rises  I  shall  expect  to  meet 
her  at  Kicol  Muschat's  Cairn,  beneath  St.  Anthony's  Chapel." 

As  he  uttered  these  words,  he  turned  and  took  the  road 


106  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

against  the  hill,  with  a  haste  that  seemed  as  peremptory  as 
his  toae  of  authority. 

Dreading  he  knew  not  what  of  additional  misery  to  a  lot 
which  seemed  little  capable  of  receiving  augmentation,  and 
desperate  at  the  idea  tliat  any  living  man  should  dare  to  send 
so  extraordinary  a  request,  couched  in  terms  so  imperious,  to 
the  half-betrothed  object  of  his  early  and  only  affection, 
Butler  strode  hastily  towards  the  cottage,  in  order  to  ascer- 
tain how  far  this  daring  and  rude  gallant  was  actually  entitled 
to  press  on  Jeanie  Deans  a  request  which  no  prudent,  and 
scarce  any  modest,  young  woman  was  likely  to  comply  with. 

Butler  was  by  nature  neither  jealous  nor  superstitious ; 
yet  the  feelings  which  lead  to  those  moods  of  the  mind  were 
rooted  in  his  heart,  as  a  portion  derived  from  the  common 
stock  of  humanity.  It  was  maddening  to  think  that  a  prof- 
ligate gallant,  such  as  the  manner  and  tone  of  the  stranger 
evinced  him  to  be,  should  have  it  in  his  power  to  command 
forth  his  future  bride  and  plighted  true-love,  at  a  place  so 
improper  and  an  hour  so  unseasonable.  Yet  the  tone  in  which 
the  stranger  spoke  had  nothing  of  the  soft,  half-breathed 
voice  proper  to  the  seducer  who  solicits  an  assignation  ;  it  was 
bold,  iierce,  and  imperative,  and  had  less  of  love  in  it  than  of 
menace  and  intimidation. 

The  suggestions  of  superstition  seemed  more  plausible,  had 
Butler's  mind  been  very  accessible  to  them.  Was  this  indeed 
the  Roaring  Lion,  who  goeth  about  seeking  whom  he  may 
devour  ?  This  was  a  question  which  pressed  itself  on  Butler's 
mind  with  an  earnestness  that  cannot  be  conceived  by  those 
who  live  in  the  present  day.  The  fiery  eye,  the  abrupt  de- 
meanor, the  occasionally  harsh,  yet  studiously  subdued,  tone 
of  voice  ;  the  features,  handsome,  but  now  clouded  with  pride, 
now  disturbed  by  suspicion,  now  inflamed  with  passion  ;  those 
dark  hazel  eyes  which  he  sometimes  shaded  with  his  cap,  as  if 
he  were  averse  to  have  them  seen  while  they  were  occupied 
with  keenly  observing  the  motions  and  bearing  of  others — those 
eyes  that  were  now  turbid  with  melancholy,  now  gleaming  with 
scorn,  and  now  sparkling  with  fury — was  it  the  passions  of  a 
mere  mortal  they  expressed,  or  the  emotions  of  a  fiend,  who 
seeks,  and  seeks  in  vain,  to  conceal  his  fiendish  designs  under 
the  borrowed  mask  of  manly  beauty  ?  The  whole  partook  of 
the  mien,  language,  and  port  of  the  ruined  archangel ;  and, 
imperfectly  as  we  have  been  able  to  describe  it,  the  effect  of 
the  interview  upon  Butler's  nerves,  shaken  as  they  were  at  the 
time  by  the  horrors  of  the  preceding  night,  was  greater  than 
his  understanding  warranted,  or  his  pride  cared  to  submit  to. 


TEE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  lOf 

The  very  place  where  he  had  met  this  singular  person  was 
desecrated,  as  it  were,  and  nnhallowcd,  owing  to  many  violent 
deatlis,  both  in  duels  and  by  suicide,  which  had  in  former  times 
taken  place  there  ;  and  the  place  which  he  had  named  as  a 
rendezvous  at  so  late  an  hour  was  held  in  general  to  be  accursed, 
from  a  frightful  and  cruel  murder  which  had  been  there  com- 
mitted, by  the  wretch  from  whom  the  place  took  its  name,  upon 
the  person  of  his  own  wife.*  It  was  in  such  places,  according 
to  the  belief  of  that  period,  when  the  laws  against  witchcraft 
were  still  in  fresh  observance,  and  had  even  lately  been  acted 
upon,  that  evil  spirits  had  power  to  make  themselves  visible 
to  human  eyes,  and  to  practise  upon  the  feelings  and  senses  of 
mankind.  Suspicions,  founded  on  such  circumstances,  rushed 
on  Butler's  mind,  unprepared  as  it  was,  by  any  previous  course 
of  reasoning,  to  deny  that  which  all  of  his  time,  country,  and 
profession  believed  ;  but  common  sense  rejected  these  vain  ideas 
as  inconsistent,  if  not  with  possibility,  at  least  with  the  gen- 
eral rules  by  which  the  universe  is  governed — a  deviation  from 
which,  as  Butler  well  argued  with  himself,  ought  not  to  be 
admitted  as  probable  upon  any  but  the  plainest  and  most  in- 
controvertible evidence.  An  earthly  lover,  however,  or  a 
young  man  who,  from  whatever  cause,  had  the  right  of  exer- 
cising such  summary  and  unceremonious  authority  over  the 
object  of  his  long-settled,  and  apparently  sincerely  returned, 
affection,  was  an  object  scarce  less  appalling  to  his  mind  than 
those  which  superstition  suggested. 

His  limbs  exhausted  with  fatigue,  his  mind  harassed  with 
anxiety,  and  \\\i\\  painful  doubts  and  recollections,  Butler 
dragged  himself  up  the  ascent  from  the  valley  to  St.  Leon- 
ard's Crags  and  pi'esented  himself  at  the  door  of  Deans's  hab- 
itation, with  feelings  much  akin  to  the .  miserable  reflections 
and  fears  of  its  inhabitants. 

*  See  Muschat's  Cairn.    Not©  17. 


CHAPTER  XII 

Then  she  streteh'd  out  her  lily  hand. 

And  for  to  do  her  best ; 
'  Hae  back  thy  faith  and  troth,  Willie, 

God  gie  thy  soul  good  rest ! " 

Old  Ballad. 

'*  Come  in/'  answered  the  low  and  sweet-toned  voice  he  loved 
best  to  hear,  as  Butler  tapped  at  the  door  of  the  cottage.  He 
lifted  the  latch,  and  found  himself  under  the  roof  of  afflictiorx. 
Jeanie  was  unable  to  trust  herself  with  more  than  one  glance 
towards  her  lover,  whom  she  now  met  under  circumstances  so 
agonizing  to  her  feelings,  and  at  the  same  time  so  humbling 
to  her  honest  pride.  It  is  well  known  that  much  both  of 
what  is  good  and  bad  in  the  Scottish  national  character  arises 
out  of  the  intimacy  of  their  family  connections.  "  To  be 
come  of  honest  folk,'' that  is,  of  people  who  have  borne  a  fair 
and  unstained  reputation,  is  an  advantage  as  highly  prized 
among  the  lower  Scotch  as  the  emphatic  counterpart,  ''to  be 
of  a  good  family,"  is  valued  among  their  gentry.  The  worth 
and  respectability  of  one  member  of  a  peasant's  family  is  al- 
ways accounted  by  themselves  and  others  not  only  a  matter  of 
honest  pride,  but  a  guarantee  for  the  good  conduct  of  the 
whole.  On  the  contrary,  such  a  melancholy  stain  as  was  now 
flung  on  one  of  the  children  of  Deans  extended  its  disgrace  to 
all  connected  with  him,  and  Jeanie  felt  herself  lowered  at 
once  in  her  own  eyes  and  in  those  of  her  lover.  It  was  in 
vain  that  she  repressed  this  feeling,  as  far  subordinate  and  too 
selfish  to  be  mingled  with  her  sorrow  for  her  sister's  calamity. 
Nature  prevailed ;  and  while  she  shed  tears  for  her  sister's 
distress  and  danger,  there  mingled  with  them  bitter  drops  of 
griei  for  her  own  degradation. 

As  Butler  entered,  the  old  man  was  seated  by  the  fire  with 
his  well-worn  pocket  Bible  in  his  hands,  the  companion  of  the 
wanderings  and  dangers  of  his  youth,  and  bequeathed  to  him 
on  the  scaffold  by  one  of  those  who,  in  the  year  1686,  sealed 
their  enthusiastic  principles  with  their  blood.  The  sun  sent 
its  rays  through  a  small  window  at  the  old  man's  back,  and, 
*^  shining  motty  through  the  reek,"  to  use  the  expression  of  a 

108 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  lo9 

bard  of  that  time  and  country,  illumined  the  gray  liairs  of  the 
old  man  and  the  sacred  page  which  he  studied.  His  features, 
far  from  handsome,  and  rather  harsh  and  severe,  had  yet,  from 
their  expression  of  habitual  gravity  and  contempt  for  earthly 
things,  an  expression  of  stoical  dignity  amid  their  sternness. 
He  boasted,  in  no  small  degree,  the  attributes  which  Southey 
ascribes  to  the  ancient  Scandinavians,  whom  he  terms  "  firm 
to  inflict  and  stubborn  to  endure."  The  whole  formed  a  pict- 
ure, of  which  the  lights  might  have  been  given  by  Rembrandt, 
but  the  outline  would  have  required  the  force  and  vigor  of 
Michael  Angelo. 

Deans  lifted  his  eye  as  Butler  entered,  and  instantly  with- 
drew it,  as  from  an  object  which  gave  him  at  once  surprise 
and  sudden  pain.  He  had  assumed  such  high  ground  with 
this  carnal-witted  scholar,  as  he  had  in  his  pride  termed  But- 
ler, that  to  meet  him  of  all  men  under  feelings  of  humiliation 
aggravated  his  misfortune,  and  was  a  consummation  like  that 
of  the  dying  chief  in  the  old  ballad — ''Earl  Percy  sees  my 
fall  ! " 

Deans  raised  the  Bible  with  his  left  hand,  so  as  partly  to 
screen  his  face,  and  putting  back  his  right  as  far  as  he  could, 
held  it  towards  Butler  in  that  position,  at  the  same  time  turn- 
ing his  body  from  him,  as  if  to  prevent  his  seeing  the  working 
of  his  countenance.  Butler  clasped  the  extended  hand  which 
had  supported  his  orphan  infancy,  wept  over  it,  and  in  vain 
endeavored  to  say  more  than  the  words — "  God  comfort  you — 
God  comfort  you  !" 

"  Ho  will — He  doth,  my  friend,"  said  Deans,  assuming 
firmness  as  he  discovered  the  agitation  of  his  guest ;  "  He 
doth  now,  and  He  will  yet  more,  in  His  own  gude  time.  I 
have  been  ower  proud  of  my  sufferings  in  a  gude  cause,  Reu- 
ben, and  now  I  am  to  be  tried  witli  those  wdiilk  will  turn  my 
pride  and  glory  into  a  reproach  and  a  hissing.  How  muckle 
better  I  hae  thought  mysell  than  them  that  lay  saft,  fed 
sweet,  and  drank  deep,  when  I  was  in  the  moss-hags  and 
moors,  wi'  precious  Donald  [Richard]  Cameron,  and  worthy 
Mr.  Blackadder,  called  Guessagain  ;  and  how  proud  I  was  o* 
being  made  a  spectacle  to  men  and  angels,  having  stood  on 
their  pillory  at  the  Canongate  afore  I  was  fifteen  years  old,  for 
the  cause  of  a  National  Covenant  !  To  tliink,  Reuben,  that 
I,  wha  hae  been  sae  honored  and  exalted  in  my  youth,  nay, 
when  I  was  but  a  hafflins  callant,  and  that  hae  borne  testi- 
mony again  the  defections  o'the  times,  yearly,  monthly,  daily, 
hourly,  minutely,  striving  and  testifying  with  uplifted  hand 
and  voice,  crying  aloud,  and  sparing  not,  against  all  great 


110  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

national  snares,  as  the  nation-wasting  and  chnrch-sinking 
abomination  of  union,  toleration,  and  patronage,  imposed  by 
the  last  woman  of  that  unhappy  race  of  Stuarts,  also  against 
the  infringements  and  invasions  of  the  just  powers  of  elder- 
ship, whereanent  I  uttered  ray  paper,  called  a  '  Cry  of  an 
Howl  in  the  Desert,'  printed  at  the  Bow-head,  and  sold  by 
all  flying  stationers  in  town  and  country — and  noio " 

Here  he  paused.  It  may  well  be  supposed  that  Butler, 
though  not  absolutely  coinciding  in  all  the  good  old  man's 
ideas  about  church  government,  had  too  much  consideration 
and  humanity  to  interrupt  him,  while  he  reckoned  up  with 
conscious  pride  his  sufferings,  and  the  constancy  of  his  testi- 
mony. On  the  contrary,  when  he  paused  under  the  influence 
of  the  bitter  recollections  of  the  moment,  Butler  instantly 
threw  in  his  mite  of  encouragement. 

"  You  have  been  well  known,  my  old  and  revered  friend, 
a  true  and  tried  follower  of  the  Cross  ;  one  who,  as  St.  Jerome 
hath  it,  'per  infamiam  et  bonam  famam  grassari  ad  immor- 
talitatem,'  which  may  be  freely  rendered,  '  who  rusheth  on 
to  immortal  life,  through  bad  report  and  good  report.'  You 
have  been  one  of  those  to  whom  the  tender  and  fearful  souls 
cry  during  the  midnight  solitude — '  Watchman,  what  of  the 
night? — Watchman,  what  of  the  night?'  And,  assuredly, 
this  heavy  dispensation,  as  it  comes  not  without  Divine  per- 
mission, so  it  comes  not  without  its  special  commission  and 
nse." 

^^I  do  receive  it  as  such,"  said  poor  Deans,  returning  the 
grasp  of  Butler's  hand  ;  "and,  if  I  have  not  been  taught  to 
read  the  Scripture  in  any  other  tongue  but  my  native  Scot- 
tish (even  in  his  distress  Butler's  Latin  quotation  had  not  es- 
caped his  notice),  I  have,  nevertheless,  so  learned  them,  that 
I  trust  to  bear  eyeu  this  crook  in  my  lot  with  submission. 
But  0,  Reuben  Butler,  the  kirk,  of  wliilk,  though  unworthy. 
I  have  yet  been  thought  a  polished  shaft,  and  meet  to  be  a 
pillar,  holding,  from  my  youth  upward,  the  place  of  ruling 
elder — what  will  the  lightsome  and  profane  think  of  the  guide 
that  cannot  keep  his  own  family  from  stumbling  ?  How  will 
they  take  up  their  song  and  their  reproach,  when  they  see 
that  the  children  of  professors  are  liable  to  as  foul  backsliding 
as  the  offspring  of  Belial  !  But  I  will  bear  my  cross  with  the 
comfort  that  whatever  showed  like  goodness  in  me  or  mine 
was  but  like  the  light  that  shines  frae  creeping  insects,  on 
the  brae-side,  in  a  dark  night ;  it  kythes  bright  to  the  ee,  be- 
cause all  is  dark  around  it ;  but  when  the  morn  comes  on 
the  mountains,  it  is  bat  a  puir  crawling  kail- worm  after  a'. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  11) 

And  sae  it  shows  wi'  ony  rag  of  human  righteousness,  or  for- 
mal law- work,  that  we  may  pit  round  us  to  cover  onr  shame." 

As  he  pronounced  these  words,  the  door  again  opened,  and 
Mr.  Bartoline  Saddletree  entered,  his  tliree-pointed  hat  set  far 
back  on  his  head,  with  a  silk  handkerchief  beneath  it,  to  keep 
it  in  that  cool  position,  his  gold-headed  cane  in  his  liand,  and 
his  whole  deportment  that  of  a  wealthy  burgher,  who  might 
one  day  look  to  have  a  share  in  the  magistracy,  if  not  actually 
to  hold  the  curule  chair  itself. 

Eochefoucault,  who  has  torn  the  veil  from  so  many  foul 
gangrenes  of  the  human  heart,  says,  we  find  something  not 
altogether  unpleasant  to  us  in  the  misfortunes  of  our  best 
friends.  Mr.  Saddletree  would  have  been  very  angry  had  any 
one  told  him  that  he  felt  pleasure  in  the  disaster  of  poor  Efiie 
Deans  and  the  disgrace  of  her  family  ;  and  yet  there  is  great 
question  whether  the  gratification  of  playing  the  person  of 
importance,  inquiring,  investigating,  and  laying  down  the  law 
on  the  whole  affair,  did  not  offer,  to  say  the  least,  full  consola- 
tion for  the  pain  which  pure  sympathy  gave  him  on  account  of 
his  wife's  kinswoman.  He  had  now  got  a  piece  of  real  judicial 
business  by  the  end,  instead  of  being  obliged,  as  was  his 
common  case,  to  intrude  his  opinion  where  it  was  neither 
wished  nor  wanted ;  and  felt  as  happy  in  the  exchange  as  a 
boy  when  he  gets  his  first  new  watch,  which  actually  goes 
when  wound  up,  and  has  real  hands  and  a  true  dial-plate. 
But  besides  this  subject  for  legal  disquisition,  Bartoline's  brains 
were  also  overloaded  with  the  affair  of  Porteous,  his  violent 
death,  and  all  its  probable  consequences  to  the  city  and  com- 
munity. It  was  what  the  French  call  Vembarras  des  richesses, 
the  confusion  arising  from  too  much  mental  wealth.  He 
walked  in  with  a  consciousness  of  double  irnportance,  full 
fraught  with  the  su]3eriority  of  one  who  possesses  more  infor- 
mation than  the  compan}^  into  which  he  enters,  and  who  feels 
a  right  to  discharge  his  learning  on  them  without  mercy. 
"  Good  morning,  Mr.  Deans.  Good-morrow  to  you,  Mr.  But- 
ler ;  I  was  not  aware  that  you  were  acquainted  with  Mr.  Deans." 

Butler  made  some  slight  answer  ;  his  reasons  may  be  readily 
imagined  for  not  making  his  connection  with  the  family,  which, 
in  his  eyes,  had  something  of  tender  mystery,  a  frequent  sub- 
ject of  conversation  with  indifferent  persons,  such  as  Saddle- 
tree. 

The  worthy  burgher,  in  the  plenitude  of  self-importance, 
now  sat  down  upon  a  chair,  wiped  his  brow,  collected  his 
breath,  and  made  the  first  experiment  of  the  resolved  pith  of 
his  lungs,  in  a  deep  and  dignified  sigli,  resembling  a  groan  in 


113  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

sound  and  intonation — ''^Awfu'  times  these,  neighbor  Deans 
— awf  a'  times  ! " 

''  Sinf  u',  shamefu^  Heaven-daring  times,"  answered  Deans, 
in  a  lower  and  more  subdued  tone. 

"  For  my  part,"  continued  Saddletree,  swelling  with  im- 
portance, ''  what  between  the  distress  of  my  friends  and  my 
poor  auld  country,  ony  wit  that  ever  I  had  may  be  said  to 
have  abandoned  me,  sae  that  I  sometimes  think  myself  as  ig- 
norant as  if  I  were  itifer  rusticos.  Here  when  I  arise  in  the 
morning,  wi'  my  mind  just  arranged  touching  what's  to  be 
done  in  puir  Effie's  misfortune,  and  hae  gotten  the  haill 
statute  at  my  finger-ends,  the  mob  maun  get  up  and  string 
Jock  Porteous  to  a  dyester's  beam,  and  ding  a'thing  out  of  my 
head  again." 

Deeply  as  he  was  distressed  with  his  own  domestic  calam- 
ity, Deans  could  not  help  expressing  some  interest  in  the 
news.  Saddletree  immediately  entered  on  details  of  the  in- 
surrection and  its  consequences,  while  Butler  took  the  occa- 
sion to  seek  some  private  conversation  with  Jeanie  Deans. 
She  gave  him  the  opportunity  he  sought,  by  leaving  the 
room,  as  if  in  prosecution  of  some  part  of  her  morning  labor. 
Butler  followed  her  in  a  few  minutes,  leaving  Deans  so 
closely  engaged  by  his  busy  visitor  that  there  was  little  chance 
of  his  observing  their  absence. 

The  scene  of  their  interview  was  an  outer  apartment, 
where  Jeanie  was  used  to  busy  herself  in  arranging  the  pro- 
ductions of  her  dairy.  When  Butler  found  an  opportunity 
of  stealing  after  her  into  this  place,  he  found  her  silent,  de- 
jected, and  ready  to  burst  into  tears.  Instead  of  the  active 
industry  with  which  she  had  been  accustomed,  even  while  in 
the  act  of  speaking,  to  employ  her  hands  in  some  useful 
branch  of  household  business,  she  was  seated  listless  in  a  cor- 
ner, sinking  apparently  under  the  weight  of  her  own  thoughts. 
Yet  the  instant  he  entered,  she  dried  her  eyes,  and.  with  the 
simplicity  and  openness  of  her  character,  immediately  entered 
on  conversation. 

"  I  am  glad  you  have  come  in,  Mr.  Butler,"  said  she, 
"  for — for — for  I  wished  to  tell  ye,  that  all  maun  be  ended 
between  you  and  me  ;  it's  best  for  baith  our  sakes." 

"  Ended  ! "  said  Butler,  in  surprise  ;  "  and  for  what  should 
it  be  ended  ?  I  grant  this  is  a  heavy  dispensation,  but  it  lies 
neither  at  your  door  nor  mine  :  it's  an  evil  of  God's  sending, 
and  it  must  be  borne ;  but  it  cannot  break  plighted  troth, 
Jeanie,  while  they  that  plighted  their  word  wish  to  keep  it." 

"  But,  Reuben,"  said  the  young  woman,  looking  at  aim 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  US 

affectionately,  "  I  ken  weel  that  ye  think  mair  of  me  than 
yourself  ;  and,  Eeuben,  I  can  only  in  requital  think  mair  of 
your  weal  than  of  my  ain.  Ye  are  a  man  of  spotless  name, 
-bred  to  God^s  ministry,  and  a'  men  say  that  ye  will  some  day 
rise  high  in  the  kirk,  though  poverty  keep  ye  down  e'en  now. 
Poverty  is  a  bad  back-friend,  Keuben.  and  that  ye  ken  ower 
weel ;  but  ill-fame  is  a  waur  ane.  and  that  is  a  truth  ye  sail 
never  learn  through  my  means." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?"  said  Butler,  eagerly  and  impa- 
tiently ;  "  or  how  do  you  connect  your  sisters  guilt,  if  guilt 
there  be,  which,  I  trust  in  God,  may  yet  be  disproved,  with 
our  engagement  ?     How  can  that  affect  you  or  me  ?  " 

"  How  can  you  ask  me  that,  Mr.  Butler  ?  Will  this  stain, 
d'ye  think,  ever  be  forgotten,  as  lang  as  our  heads  are  abune 
the  grund  ?  Will  it  not  stick  to  us,  and  to  our  bairns,  and 
to  their  very  bairns'  bairns  ?  To  hae  been  the  child  of  an 
honest  man  might  hae  been  saying  something  for  me  and 

mine  ;  but  to  be  the  sister  of  a 0  my  God  ! "    With  this 

exclamation  her  resolution  failed,  and  she  burst  into  a  pas- 
sionate fit  of  tears. 

The  lover  used  every  effort  to  induce  her  to  compose  her- 
self, and  at  length  succeeded  ;  but  she  only  resumed  her  com- 
posure to  express  herself  with  the  same  positiveness  as  before. 
''  No,  Reuben,  I'll  bring  disgrace  hame  to  nae  man's  hearth  ; 
my  ain  distresses  I  can  bear,  and  I  maun  bear,  but  there  is 
nae  occasion  for  buckling  them  on  other  folks'  shouthers.  I 
will  bear  ray  load  alone  ;  the  back  is  made  for  the  burden." 

A  lover  is  by  charter  way  ward  and  suspicious ;  and  Jeanie's 
readiness  to  renounce  their  engagement,  under  pretence  of 
zeal  for  his  peace  of  mind  and  respectability  of  character, 
seemed  to  poor  Butler  to  form  a  portentous  combination  with 
the  commission  of  the  stranger  he  had  met  with  that  morn- 
ing. His  voice  faltered  as  he  asked,  "  Whether  nothing  but 
a  sense  of  her  sister's  present  distress  occasioned  her  to  talk  in 
that  manner  ?  " 

"  And  what  else  can  do  sae  ?"  she  replied,  witli  simplicity. 
"■Js  it  not  ten  long  years  since  we  spoke  togetlier  in  this 
way?" 

''Ten  years  ?"  said  Butler.  "  It's  a  long  time,  sufficient 
perhaps  for  a  woman  to  weary " 

"To  weary  of  her  auld  gown,"  said  Jeanie,  "and  to  wish 
for  a  new  ane^  if  she  likes  to  be  brave,  but  not  long  enough 
to  weary  of  a  friend.  The  eye  may  wish  change,  but  the  heart 
never." 

''Nevsr  !"  said  Eeuben  ;  "  that's  a  bold  promise.' 


114  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

"  But  not  more  banld  than  true/'  said  Jeanie,  with  the 
same  quiet  simplicity  which  attended  her  manner  in  joy  and 
grief,  in  ordinary  affairs,  and  in  those  which  most  interested 
her  feelings. 

Butler  paused,  and  looking  at  her  fixedly,  "I  am 
charged,"  he  said,"  with  a  message  to  you,  Jeanie." 

"Indeed!  From  whom  ?  Or  what  can  ony  ane  have  to 
say  to  me  ?  " 

"  It  is  from  a  stranger,"  said  Butler,  affecting  to  speak  with 
an  indiffereuce  which  his  voice  belied,  "  a  young  man  whom  I 
met  this  morning  in  the  Park." 

"  Mercy  ! "  said  Jeanie,  eagerly  ;  "  and  what  did  he  say  ?" 

"  That  he  did  not  see  you  at  the  hour  he  expected,  but  re- 
quired you  should  meet  him  alone  at  Muschat's  Cairn  this 
night,  so  soon  as  the  moon  rises." 

"  Tell  him,"  said  Jeanie,  hastily,  "  I  shall  certainly  come." 

"  May  I  ask,"  said  Butler,  his  suspicions  iucreasing  at  the 
ready  alacrity  of  the  answer,  "who  this  man  is  to  whom  you 
are  so  willing  to  give  the  meeting  at  a  place  and  hour  so  un- 
common ?  " 

"  Folk  maun  do  muckle  they  have  little  will  to  do  in  this 
world,"  replied  Jeanie. 

"Granted,"  said  her  lover;  "but  what  compels  you  to 
this  ?  Who  is  this  person  ?  What  I  saw  of  him  was  not  very 
favorable.     Who  or  what  is  he  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know  !"  replied  Jeanie,  composedly. 

"  You  do  not  know  ?  "  said  Butler,  stepping  impatiently 
through  the  apartment.  "  You  purpose  to  meet  a  young  man 
whom  you  do  not  know,  at  such  a  time  and  in  a  place  so 
lonely;  you  say  you  are  compelled  to  do  this,  and  yet  you  say 
you  do  not  know  the  person  who  exercises  such  an  influence 
over  you  !     Jeanie,  what  am  I  to  think  of  this  ?  " 

"  Think  only,  Reuben,  that  I  speak  truth,  as  if  I  were 
to  answer  at  the  last  day.  I  do  not  ken  this  man,  I  do  not 
even  ken  that  I  ever  saw  him ;  and  yet  I  must  give  him  the 
meeting  he  asks  ;  there's  life  and  death  upon  it." 

"Will  you  not  tell  your  father,  or  take  him  with  you  ?" 
said  Butler. 

"I  cannot,"  said  Jeanie  ;  "I  have  no  permission." 

"Will  you  let  me  go  with  you  ?  I  will  wait  in  the  Park 
till  nightfall,  and  join  you  when  you  set  out." 

"  It  is  impossible,"  said  Jeanie  ;  "  there  maunna  be  mortal 
creature  within  hearing  of  our  conference." 

"Have  you  considered  well  the  nature  of  what  you  are 
going  to  do  ? — the  time,  the  place,  an  unknown  and  suspicion? 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  115 

character  ?  Why,  if  lie  had  asked  to  see  you  in  this  house, 
your  father  sitting  in  the  next  room,  and  within  call,  at  such 
an  hour,  you  should  have  refused  to  see  him." 

''My  weird  maun  be  fulfilled,  Mr.  Butler.  ^My  life  and 
my  safety  are  in  God's  hands,  but  I'll  not  S2)are  to  risk  either 
of  them  on  the  errand  I  am  gaun  to  do."*^ 

"Then,  Jeanie/'  said  Butler,  mucli  displeased,  ''we must 
indeed  break  short  off,  and  bid  farewell.  When  there  can  be 
no  confidence  betwixt  a  man  and  his  plighted  wife  on  such  a 
momentous  topic,  it  is  a  sign  that  she  has  no  longer  the 
regard  for  him  that  makes  their  engagement  safe  and  suit- 
able." 

Jeanie  looked  at  him  and  sighed.  "I  thought,"  she  said, 
"that  I  had  brought  myself  to  bear  this  parting ;  but — but— 
I  did  not  ken  that  we  were  to  part  in  unkindness.  But  I  am 
a  woman  and  you  are  a  man,  it  may  be  different  wi'  you  ;  if 
your  mind  is  made  easier  by  thinking  sae  hardly  of  me,  I 
would  not  ask  you  to  think  otherwise." 

"You  are,"  said  Butler,  "what  you  have  always  been — 
wiser,  better,  and  less  selfish  in  your  native  feelings  than  I 
can  be  with  all  the  helps  philosophy  can  give  to  a  Christian. 
But  why — why  will  you  persevere  in  an  undertaking  so  des- 
perate ?  Why  will  you  not  let  me  be  your  assistant,  your  pro- 
tector, or  at  least  your  adviser  ?" 

"  Just  because  I  cannot,  and  I  dare  not,"  answered  Jeanie. 
"  But  hark,  what's  that  ?     Surely  my  father  is  no  weel  ?  " 

In  fact,  the  voices  in  the  next  room  became  obstreperously 
loud  of  a  sudden,  the  cause  of  which  vociferation  it  is  neces- 
sary to  explain  before  we  go  further. 

Wlien  Jeanie  and  Butler  retired,  Mr,  Saddletree  entered 
upon  the  business  which  chiefly  interested  tlie  family.  In 
the  commencement  of  their  conversation  he  found  old  Deans, 
who,  in  his  usual  state  of  mind,  was  no  granter  of  propositions, 
so  much  subdued  by  a  deep  sense  of  his  daughter's  danger  and 
disgrace  that  he  heard  without  replying  to,  or  perhaps  with- 
out understanding,  one  or  two  learned  disquisitions  on  the 
nature  of  the  crime  imputed  to  her  charge,  and  on  the  steps 
which  ought  to  be  taken  in  consequence.  His  only  answer  at 
each  pause  was,  "  I  am  no  misdoubting  that  you  wuss  us  weel, 
your  wife's  our  f-ar-awa'  cousin." 

Encouraged  by  these  symptoms  of  acquiescence.  Saddle- 
tree, who,  as  an  amateur  of  the  law,  h;ul  a  suj^reme  deference 
for  all  constituted  authorities,  again  recurred  to  his  other  topic 
of  interest,  the  murder,  namely,  of  Porteous,  and  pronounced 
a  severe  censure  on  the  parties  concerned. 


116  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

*'  These  are  kittle  times — kittle  times,  Mr.  Deans,  "when 
the  people  take  the  power  of  life  and  death  out  of  the  hands 
of  the  rightful  magistrate  into  tiieir  ain  rough  grip.  I  am  of 
opinion,  and  so,  I  believe,  will  Mr.  Crossmyloof  and  the  privy 
council,  that  this  rising  in  effeir  of  war,  to  take  away  the  life 
of  a  reprieved  man,  will  prove  little  better  than  perduellion." 
"If  I  hadna  that  on  my  mind  whilk  is  ill  to  bear,  Mr. 
Saddletree,"  said  Deans,  "  I  wad  make  bold  to  dispute  that 
point  wi'  you." 

' '  How  could  ye  dispute  what's  plain  law,  man  ?  "said  Saddle- 
tree, somewhat  coatemptuously;  "there's  no  a  callant  that  e'er 
carried  a  pock  wi'  a  process  in't  but  will  tell  you  that  perduel- 
lion  is  the  warst  and  maist  virulent  kind  of  treason,  being  an 
open  convocating  of  the  king's  lieges  against  his  authority, 
mair  especially  in  arms,  and  by  touk  of  drum,  to  baith  whilk 
accessories  my  een  and  lugs  bore  witness,  and  muckle  warse 
than  lese-majesty,  or  the  concealment  of  a  treasonable  purpose. 
It  winna  bear  a  dispute,  neighbor." 

"  But  it  will,  though,"  retorted  Douce  Davie  Deans  ;  "  I  tell 
ye  it  will  bear  a  dispute.  I  never  like  your  cauld,  legal,  formal 
doctrines,  neighbor  Saddletree.  I  baud  unco  little  by  the 
Parliameut  House,  since  the  awfu'  downfall  of  the  hopes'  of 
honest  folk  that  followed  the  Revolution." 

"'  But  what  wad  ye  haehad,  Mr.  Deans  ?"said  Saddletree, 
impatiently  ;  '•  didna  ye  get  baith  liberty  and  conscience  made 
fast,  and  settled  by  tailzie  on  you  and  your  heirs  forever  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Saddletree,"  retorted  Deans,  "  I  ken  ye  are  one 
of  those  that  are  wise  after  the  manner  of  this  world,  and 
that  ye  baud  your  part,  and  cast  in  your  portion,  wi'  the 
lang-heads  and  lang-gowns,  and  keep  with  the  smart  witty- 
pated  lawyers  of  this  our  land.  Weary  on  the  dark  and 
dolef  a'  cast  that  cliey  hae  gien  this  unhappy  kingdom,  when 
their  black  hands  of  defection  were  clasped  in  the  red  hands  of 
our  sworn  murtherers  ;  when  those  who  had  numbered  the 
towers  of  our  Zion,  and  marked  the  bulwarks  of  our  Reforma- 
tion, saw  their  hope  turn  into  a  snare  and  their  rejoicing  into 
weeping." 

"  I  canna  understand  this,  neighbor,'^  answered  Saddle- 
tree. "  I  am  an  honest  Presbyterian  of  the  Kirk  of  Scotland, 
and  stand  by  her  and  the  General  Assembly,  and  the  due  ad- 
ministration of  justice  by  the  fifteen  Lords  o'  Session  and  the 
five  Lords  o'  Justiciary." 

"  Out  upon  ye,  Mr.  Saddletree  !  "  exclaimed  David,  who. 
in  an  opportunity  of  giving  his  testimony  on  the  offences  and 
backslidinge  of  the  land,  forgot  for  a  moment  his  own  domes- 


THE  HEABT  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  117 

tic  calamity — '^ont  nponyonr  General  Assembly,  and  the  back 
of  my  hand  to  your  Court  o'  Session  !  What  is  the  tane  but 
a  waefu'  bunch  o'  cauldrife  professors  and  ministers,  that  sat 
bien  and  warm  when  the  persecuted  remnant  were  warstling 
wi'  hunger,  and  cauld,  and  fear  of  death,  and  danger  of  fire 
and  sword,  upon  wet  brae-sides,  peat-hags,  and  flow-mosses, 
and  that  now  creep  out  of  their  holes,  like  bluebottle  flees  in 
a  blink  of  sunshine,  to  take  the  pu'pits  and  places  of  better 
folk — of  them  that  witnessed,  and  testified,  and  fought,  and 
endured  pit,  prison-house,  and  transportation  beyond  seas  ? 
A  bonny  bike  there's  o'  them  !  And  for  your  Court  o'  Ses- 
sion  " 

"  Ye  may  say  what  ye  will  o'  the  General  Assembly/'  said 
Saddletree,  interrupting  him,  ''and  let  them  clear  them  that 
kens  them  ;  but  as  for  the  Lords  o'  Session,  forbye  that  they 
are  my  next-door  neighbors,  I  would  have  ye  ken,  for  your  ain 
regulation,  that  to  raise  scandal  anent  them,  whilk  is  termed, 
to  '  murmur  again '  them,  is  a  crime  sui  generis — sui  generis, 
Mr.  Deans  ;  ken  ye  what  that  amounts  to  ?  " 

"  I  ken  little  o'  the  language  of  Antichrist,"  said  Deans  : 
"  and  I  care  less  than  little  what  carnal  courts  may  call  the 
speeches  of  honest  men.  And  as  to  murmur  again  them,  it's 
what  a'  the  folk  tliat  loses  their  pleas,  and  nine-tenths  o'  them 
that  win  them,  will  be  gay  sure  to  be  guilty  in.  Sae  I  wad 
hae  ye  ken  that  I  hand  a'  your  gleg-tongued  advocates,  that 
sell  their  knowledge  for  pieces  of  silver,  and  your  worldly-wise 
judges,  that  will  gie  three  days  of  hearing  in  presence  to  a  de- 
bate about  the  peeling  of  an  ingan,  and  no  ae  half-hour  to  the 
Gospel  testimony,  as  legalists  and  formalists,  countenancing, 
by  sentences,  and  quirks,  and  cunning  terms  of  law,  the  late 
begun  courses  of  national  defections — union,  toleration,  pat- 
ronages, and  Yerastian  prelatic  oaths.  As  for  the  soul  and 
body-killing  Court  o'  Justiciary " 

The  habit  of  considering  his  life  as  dedicated  to  bear  tes- 
timony in  behalf  of  what  he  deemed  the  sufi'ering  and  deserted 
cause  of  true  religion  had  swept  honest  David  along  with  it  thus 
far  ;  but  v/ith  the  mention  of  the  criminal  court,  tlie  recollec- 
tion of  the  disastrous  condition  of  his  daughter  ruslied  at  once 
on  his  mind  ;  he  stopped  short  in  the  midst  of  his  triumphant 
declamation,  pressed  his  hands  against  his  forehead,  and  re- 
mained silent. 

Saddletree  was  somewhat  moved,  but  apparently  not  so 
much  so  as  to  induce  him  to  relinquish  the  privilege  of  pros- 
ing in  his  turn,  afforded  him  by  David's  sudden  silence.  "  Nae 
doubt,  neignbor,"  he  said,  "  it's  asair  thing  to  hae  to  do  wi 


118  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

courts  of  law,  unless  it  be  to  improve  ane's  knowledge  and 
practique,  by  waiting  on  as  a  hearer  ;  and  touching  this  un- 
happy affair  of  Effie — ye'll  hae  seen  the  dittay,  doubtless?" 
He  dragged  out  of  his  pocket  a  bundle  of  papers,  and  began 
to  turn  them  over.  "•  This  is  no  it :  this  is  the  information 
of  Mungo  Marsport,  of  that  ilk,  against  Captain  Lackland, 
for  coming  on  his  lands  of  Marsport  with  liawks,  hounds, 
lying-dogs,  nets,  guns,  cross-bows,  hagbuts  of  found,  or  other 
engines  more  or  less  for  destruction  of  game,  sic  as  red-deer, 
fallow-deer,  caper-cailzies,  gray-fowl,  moor-fowl,  paitricks, 
herons,  and  sic-like  ;  he  the  said  defender  not  being  ane  qual- 
ified person,  in  terms  of  the  statute  1621 ;  that  is,  not  having 
ane  plough-gate  of  land.  Now,  the  defences  proponed  say 
that  non  constat  at  this  present  what  is  a  plough-gate  of  land, 
whilk  uncertainty  is  sufficient  to  elide  the  conclusions  of  the 
libel.  -  But  then  the  answers  to  the  defences — they  are  signed 
by  Mr.  Crossmyloof,  but  Mr.  Younglad  drew  them  —  they 
propone  that  it  signifies  naething,  in  Jioc  statu,  what  or  how 
muckle  a  plough-gate  of  land  may  be,  in  respect  tlie  defender 
has  nae  lands  whatsoe'er,  less  or  mair.  '  Sae  grant  a  plough- 
gate  [here  Saddletree  read  from  the  paper  in  his  hand]  to  be 
less  than  the  nineteenth  part  of  a  guse's  grass ' — I  trow  Mr. 
Crossmyloof  put  in  that,  I  ken  his  style — 'of  a  guse's  grass, 
what  the  better  will  the  defender  be,  seeing  he  hasna  a  divot- 
cast  of  land  in  Scotland  ?  Advocatus  for  Lackland  duj)lies 
that,  nihil  interest  de  possessione,  the  pursuer  must  put  his 
case  under  the  statute ' — now  this  is  worth  your  notice,  neigh- 
bor— ^and  must  show,  formaliter  et  specialiter,  as  well  asgen- 
eraliter,  what  is  the  qualification  that  defender  Lackland  does 
not  possess  :  let  him  tell  me  what  a  plough-gate  of  land  is, 
and  I'll  tell  him  if  I  have  one  or  no.  Surely  the  pursuer  is 
bound  to  understand  his  own  libel  and  his  own  statute  that 
he  founds  upon.  Titiiis  pursues  Msevius  for  recovery  of  ane 
black  horse  lent  to  Maevius  ;  surely  he  shall  have  judgment. 
But  if  Titius  pursue  Maevius  for  ane  scarlet  or  crimsoji  horse, 
doubtless  he  shall  be  bound  to  show  that  there  is  sic  ane  ani- 
mal in  rerum  natura.  N"o  man  can  be  bound  to  plead  to 
nonsense,  that  is  to  say,  to  a  charge  which  cannot  be  explained 
or  understood' — he's  wrang  there,  the  better  the  pleadings 
the  fewer  understand  them — '  and  so  the  reference  unto  this 
undefined  and  unintelligible  measure  of  land  is,  as  if  a  penalty 
was  inflicted  by  statute  for  any  man  who  suld  hunt  or  hawk, 
or  use  lying-dogs,  and  wearing  a  sky-blue  pair  of  breeches, 

without  having '     But  I  am  wearying  you,  Mr.  Deans  ; 

we'll  pass  to  your  ain  business,  though  this  case  of  Marsport 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  119 

against  Lackland  has  made  an  unco  din  in  the  Outer  House, 
Weel,  here's  the  dittay  against  puir  Effie :  '  Whereas  it  is 
humbly  meant  and  shown  to  us/  etc. — they  are  words  of  mere 
style — •  that  whereas,  by  the  laws  of  this  and  every  other 
well-regulated  realm,  the  murder  of  any  one,  more  especially 
of  an  infant  child,  is  a  crime  of  anehigh  nature,  and  severely 
punishable  :  And  whereas,  without  prejudice  to  the  foresaid 
generality,  it  was,  by  ane  act  made  in  the  second  session  of 
tlie  First  Parliament  of  our  most  High  and  Dread  Soveraigns 
AVilliam  and  Mary,  especially  enacted,  that  ane  woman  who 
shall  have  concealed  her  condition,  and  shall  not  be  able 
to  show  that  she  hath  called  for  help  at  the  birth,  in  case 
that  the  child  shall  be  found  dead  or  amissing,  shall  be  deemed 
and  held  guilty  of  the  murder  thereof  ;  and  the  said  facts  of 
concealment  and  pregnancy  being  found  proven  or  confessed, 
shall  sustain  the  pains  of  law  accordingly ;  yet,  nevertheless, 
you,  Effie  or  Euphemia  Deans '" 

"  Read  no  farther  I  "  said  Deans,  raising  his  head  up;  "I 
would  rather  ye  thrust  a  sword  into  my  heart  than  read  a 
word  farther  ! " 

''  Weel,  neighbor,"  said  Saddletree,  "  I  thought  it  wad 
hae  comforted  ye  to  ken  the  best  and  the  warst  o't.  But 
the  question  is,  what's  to  be  dune  ?  " 

''Nothing,"  answered  Deans,  firmly,  "but  to  abide  the 
dispensation  that  the  Lord  sees  meet  to  send  us.  0,  if  it  had 
been  His  will  to  take  the  gray  head  to  rest  before  this  awful 
visitation  on  my  house  and  name  !  But  His  wnll  be  done.  I 
can  say  that  yet,  though  I  can  say  little  mair." 

"  But,  neighbor,"  said  Saddletree,  "  ye'll  retain  advocates 
for  the  puir  lassie  ?  it's  a  thing  maun  needs  be  thought  of." 

"•If  tliere  was  ae  man  of  them,"  answered  Deans,  "that 
held  fast  his  integrity — but  I  ken  them  weel,  they  are  a'  car- 
nal, crafty,  and  warld-hunting  self-seekers,  Yerastians  and 
Arminians,  every  ane  o'  them." 

"  Hout  tout,  neighbor,  ye  maunna  take  the  warld  at  its 
word,"  said  Saddletree;  "the  very  deil  is  no  sae  ill  as  he's 
ca'd  ;  and  I  ken  mair  than  ae  advocate  that  may  be  said  to  hae 
some  integrity  as  weel  as  their  neighbors  ;  that  is,  after  a  sort 
o'  fashion  o'  their  ain." 

"  It  is  indeed  but  a  fashion  of  integrity  that  ye  will  find 
amang  them,"  replied  David  Deans,  "  and  a  fashion  of  wis- 
dom, and  fashion  of  carnal  learning — gazing  glancing-glasses 
they  are,  fit  only  to  fling  the  glaiks  in  folks'  een,  wi'  their 
pawky  policy,  and  earthly  ingine,  their  flights  and  refine- 
ments, and  periods  of  eloquence,  frae  heathen  emperors  and 


120  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

popish  canons.  They  canna,  in  that  daft  trash  ye  were  read- 
ing to  me,  sae  muckle  as  ca'  men  that  are  sae  ill-starred  as  to 
be  amang  their  hands  by  ony  name  o'  the  dispensation  o' 
grace,  but  maun  new  baptise  them  by  the  names  of  the  ac- 
cursed Titus,  wha  was  made  the  instrument  of  burning  the 
holy  Temple,  and  other  sic-like  heathens/' 

"  It's  Tishius/'  interrupted  Saddletree,  ''  and  no  Titus. 
Mr.  Orossmyloof  cares  as  little  about  Titus  or  the  Latio 
learning  as  ye  do.  But  it's  a  case  of  necessity  :  she  maun  hae 
counsel.  Now,  I  could  speak  to  Mr.  Crossmyloof  ;  he's  weel 
kenn'd  for  a  round-spun  Presbyterian,  and  a  ruling  elder  to 
boot." 

''  He's  a  rank  Yerastian,"  replied  Deans ;  "  one  of  the 
public  and  polititious  warldly-wise  men  that  stude  up  to  pre- 
vent ane  general  owning  of  the  cause  in  the  day  of  power." 

"  What  say  ye  to  theauld  Laird  of  Cuffabout  ?"  said  Sad- 
dletree ;  "he  whiles  thumps  the  dust  out  of  a  case  gay  and 
weel." 

"  He  !  the  fause  loon  !  "  answered  Deans.  "  He  was  in 
his  bandaliers  to  hae  joined  the  ungracious  Highlanders  in 
1715,  an  they  had  ever  had  the  luck  to  cross  the  Firth." 

"  Weel,  Arniston  ?  there's  a  clever  chield  for  ye  !  "  said 
Bartoline,  triumphantly. 

"  Ay,  to  bring  popish  medals  in  till  their  very  library  from 
that  schismatic  woman  in  the  north,  the  Duchess  of  GordoJi."* 

"  Weel,  weel,  but  somebody  ye  maun  hae.  What  think 
ye  o'  Kittlepunt  ? '_' 

"  He's  an  Arminian." 

"  Woodsetter  ?  " 

*'He's,  I  doubt,  a  Cocceian.*' 

*'Auld  Whilliewhaw?" 

"'  He's  ony  thing  ye  like." 

"  Young  ISTajmmo  ?" 

"He's  naething  at  a'." 

"  Ye're  ill  to  please,  neighbor,"  said  Saddletree.  "  I  hae 
run  ower  the  pick  o'  them  for  you,  ye  maun  e'en  choose  for 
yoursell ;  but  bethink  ye  that  in  the  multitude  of  counsellors 
there's  safety.  Wliat  say  ye  to  try  young  Mackenyie  ?  he  has 
a'  his  uncle's  practiques  at  the  tongue's  end." 

"  What,  sir,  wad  ye  speak  to  me,"  exclaimed  the  sturdy 
Presbyterian,  in  excessive  wrath,  "  about  a  man  that  has  the 
blood  of  the  saints  at  his  fingers'  ends  ?     Didna  his  eme  die 

*  James  Dundas.  young:er  of  Arniston,  was  tried  in  the  year  1711  upon  a  charge 
of  leasing-making,  in  having  presented,  from  the  Duchess  of  Gordon,  a  medal  of  the 
Pretender,  for  the  purpose,  it  was  said,  of  affronting  Queen  Anne  QLaing). 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  121 

and  gang  to  his  place  wi'  the  name  of  the  Bluidy  Mackenyie? 
and  winna  he  be  kenned  by  that  name  sae  lang  as  there's  a 
Scots  tongue  to  speak  the  word  ?  If  the  life  of  the  dear 
bairn  that's  under  a  suffering  dispensation,  and  Jeanie's,  and 
my  ain,  and  a'  mankind's,  depended  on  my  asking  sic  a  slave 
o'  Satan  to  speak  a  word  for  me  or  them,  they  should  a'  gae 
down  the  water  thegither  for  Davie  Deans  ! " 

It  was  the  exalted  tone  in  which  he  spoke  this  last  sen- 
tence that  broke  up  the  conversation  between  Butler  and 
Jeanie,  and  brought  them  both  "  ben  the  house,"  to  use  the 
language  of  the  country.  Here  they  found  the  poor  old  man 
half  frantic  between  grief  and  zealous  ire  against  Saddletree's 
proposed  measures,  his  cheek  inflamed,  his  hand  clenched, 
and  his  voice  raised,  while  tlie  tear  in  his  eye,  and  the  occa- 
sional quiver  of  his  accents,  showed  that  his  utmost  efforts 
were  inadequate  to  shaking  off'  the  consciousness  of  his  misery. 
Butler,  apprehensive  of  the  consequences  of  his  agitation  to 
an  aged  and  feeble  frame,  ventured  to  utter  to  him  a  recom- 
mendation to  patience. 

"Imn  patient,"  returned  the  old  man,  sternly,  "more 
patient  than  any  one  who  is  alive  to  the  woful  backslidings 
of  a  miserable  time  can  be  patient ;  and  in  so  mnch,  that  I 
need  neither  sectarians,  nor  sons  nor  grandsons  of  sectarians, 
to  instruct  my  gray  hairs  how  to  bear  my  cross." 

"  But,  sir,"  continued  Butler,  taking  no  offence  at  the  slur 
cast  on  his  grandfather's  faith,  "we  must  use  human  means. 
When  you  call  in  a  physician,  you  would  not,  I  suppose, 
question  him  on  the  nature  of  his  religious  principles  ?  " 

"Wad  I  no9"  answered  David.  "But  I  wad,  though; 
and  if  he  didna  satisfy  me  that  he  had  a  right  sense  of  the 
right-hand  and  left-hand  defections  of  the  day,  not  a  goutte 
of  his  physic  should  gang  through  my  father's  son." 

It  is  a  dangerous  thing  to  trust  to  an  illustration.  Butler 
had  done  so  and  miscarried  ;  but,  like  a  gallant  soldier  when 
his  musket  misses  fire,  he  stood  his  ground  and  charged  with 
the  bayonet.  "  This  is  too  rigid  an  interpretation  of  your 
duty,  sir.  The  sun  shines,  and  the  rain  descends,  on  the  just 
and  unjust,  and  they  are  placed  together  in  life  in  circumstances 
which  frequently  render  intercourse  between  them  indispensa- 
ble, perhaps  that  the  evil  may  have  an  opportunity  of  being 
converted  by  the  good,  and  perhaps,  also,  that  the  righteous 
might,  among  other  trials,  be  subjected  to  that  of  occasional 
converse  with  the  profane." 

"  Ye're  a  silly  callant,  Reuben,"  answered  Deans,  "with 
your  bits  of  argument.     Can  a  man  touch  pitch  and  not  be  de- 


132  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

filed  ?  Or  what  think  ye  of  the  brave  and  worthy  championa 
of  the  Covenant,  tliat  wadna  sae  muckle  as  hear  a  minister 
speak,  be  his  gifts  and  graces  as  they  would,  that  hadna  wit- 
nessed against  the  enormities  of  the  day  ?  Nae  lawyer  shall 
ever  speak  for  me  and  mine  that  hasna  concurred  in  the  testi- 
mony of  the  scattered  yet  lovely  remnant  which  abode  in  the 
clifts  of  the  rocks.'' 

So  saying,  and  as  if  fatigued  both  with  the  arguments  and 
presence  of  his  guests,  the  old  man  arose,  and  seeming  to  bid 
them  adieu  with  a  motion  of  his  head  and  hand,  went  to  shut 
himself  up  in  his  sleeping-ajoartment. 

"  It's  thrawing  his  daughter's  life  awa',"  said  Saddletree 
to  Butler,  "  to  hear  him  speak  in  that  daft  gate.  Where  will 
he  ever  get  a  Cameronian  advocate  ?  Or  wha  ever  heard  of  a 
lawyer's  suffering  either  for  ae  religion  or  another  ?  The 
lassie's  life  is  clean  flung  awa'." 

During  the  latter  part  of  this  debate,  Dumbiedikes  had 
arrived  at  the  door,  dismounted,  hung  the  pony's  bridle  on  the 
usual  hook,  and  sunk  down  on  his  ordinary  settle.  His  eyes, 
with  more  than  their  usual  animation,  followed  first  one  speak- 
er, then  another,  till  he  caught  the  melancholy  sense  of  the 
whole  from  Saddletree's  last  words.  He  rose  from  his  seat, 
stumped  slowly  across  the  room,  and,  coming  close  wp  to  Sad- 
dletree's ear,  said,  in  a  tremulous,  anxious  voice,  "  Will — will 
siller  do  naething  for  them,  Mr.  Saddletree  ?  " 

"  Umph  ! "  said  Saddletree,  looking  grave,  "  siller  will  cer- 
tainly do  it  in  the  Parliament  House,  if  onything  can  do  it ; 
but  whare's  the  siller  to  come  f  rae  ?  Mr.  Deans,  ye  see,  will  do 
naething  ;  and  though  Mrs.  Saddletree's  their  far-awa'  friend 
and  right  good  weel-wisher,  and  is  weel  disposed  to  assist,  yet 
she  wadna  like  to  stand  to  be  bound  singuli  in  solidum  to  such 
an  expensive  wark.  An  ilka  friend  wad  bear  a  share  o'  the 
burden,  something  might  be  dune,  ilka  ane  to  be  liable  for 
their  ain  input.  I  wadna  like  to  see  the  case  fa'  through  with- 
out being  pled  ;  it  wadna  be  creditable,  for  a'  that  daft  Whig 
body  says." 

'Til — I  will — yes  (assuming  fortitude),  I  will  be  auswer- 
able,"  said  Dumbiedikes,  ''for  a  score  of  punds  sterling." 
And  he  was  silent,  staring  in  astonishment  at  finding  himself 
capable  of  such  unwonted  resolution  and  excessive  generosity. 

"  God  Almighty  bless  ye.  Laird  ! "  said  Jeanie,  in  a  trans- 
port of  gratitude. 

"  Ye  may  ca'  the  twenty  punds  thretty,"  said  Dumbiedikes, 
looking  bashfully  away  from  her,  and  towards  Saddletree. 

"  That  will  do  bravely,"  said  Saddletree,  rubbing  his  hands ; 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  123 

"  and  ye  sail  hae  a'  my  skill  and  knowledge  to  gar  the  siller 
gang  far.  I'll  tape  it  out  weel  ;  I  ken  how  to  gar  the  birkies 
tak  short  fees,  and  be  glad  o'  chem  too  :  it's  only  garring  them 
trow  ye  hae  twa  or  three  cases  of  importance  coming  on,  and 
they'll  work  cheap  to  get  custom.  Let  me  alane  for  whilly- 
whaing  an  advocate.  It's  nae  sin  to  get  as  muckle  fraethem 
for  our  siller  as  we  can  ;  after  a',  it's  but  the  wind  o'  their 
mouth,  it  costs  them  naething  ;  whereas,  in  my  wretched  oc- 
cupation of  a  saddler,  horse-milliner,  and  harness-maker,  we 
are  out  unconscionable  sums  just  for  barkened  hides  and 
leather." 

"  Can  I  be  of  no  use  ?  "  said  Butler.  "  My  means,  alas  ! 
are  only  worth  the  black  coat  I  wear  ;  but  I  am  young,  I  owe 
much  to  the  family.     Can  I  do  nothing  ?  " 

"  Ye  can  help  to  collect  evidence,  sir,"  said  Saddletree  ; 
**  if  we  could  but  find  ony  ane  to  say  she  had  gien  the  least 
hint  o'  her  condition,  she  wad  be  brought  aif  wi'  awat  finger. 
Mr.  Crossmyloof  tell'd  me  sae.  '  The  crown,'  says  he,  '  canna 
be  craved  to  prove  a  positive ' — was't  a  positive  or  a  negative 
they  couldna  be  ca'd  to  prove  ?  it  was  the  tane  or  the  tither 
o'  them,  I  am  sure,  and  it  maksna  muckle  matter  whilk. 
'  Wherefore,'  says  he,  '  the  libel  maun  be  redargued  by  the 
panel  proving  her  defences.  And  it  canna  be  done  other- 
wise.'" 

"But  the  fact,  sir,"  argued  Butler — *'Hhe  fact  that  this 
poor  girl  has  borne  a  child  ;  surely  the  crown  lawyers  must 
prove  that  ?  "  said  Butler. 

Saddletree  paused  a  moment,  while  the  visage  of  Dumbie- 
dikes,  which  traversed,  as  if  it  had  been  placed  on  a  pivot, 
from  the  one  spokesman  to  the  other,  assumed  a  more  blithe 
expression. 

'•  Ye — ye — ye — es,"said  Saddletree,  after  some  grave  hes- 
itation ;  "  unquestionably  that  is  a  thing  to  be  proved,  as  the 
court  will  more  fully  declare  by  an  interlocutor  of  relevancy  in 
common  form  ;  but  I  fancy  that  job's  done  already,  for  she 
has  confessed  her  guilt." 

"  Confessed  the  murder  ?  "  exclaimed  Jeanie,  with  a  scream 
that  made  them  all  start. 

"  No,  I  didna  say  that,"  replied  Bartoline.  ''But  she  con- 
fessed bearing  the  babe." 

"  And  what  became  of  it,  then  ?"  said  Jeanie  ;  "  for  not  a 
word  could  I  get  from  her  but  bitter  sighs  and  tears." 

"  She  says  it  was  taken  away  from  her  by  the  woman  in 
whose  house  it  was  born,  and  who  assisted  her  at  the  time." 

"  And  who  was  that  woman  ?  "  said  Butler.     "  Surely  by 


IM  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

her  means  the  truth  might  be  discovered.  Who  was  she  ?  I 
will  fly  to  her  directly." 

"  I  wish,"  said  Dumbiedikes,  ''  I  were  as  young  and  as 
supple  as  you,  and  had  the  gift  of  the  gab  as  weel." 

"Who  is  she?"  again  reiterated  Butler,  impatiently. 
*'  Who  could  that  woman  be  ?  " 

"  Aj,  wha  kens  that  but  hersell,"  said  Saddletree  ;  ''she 
deponed  further,  and  declined  to  answer  that  interrogatory." 

"  Then  to  herself  will  I  instantly  go,"  said  Butler  ;  "  fare- 
well, Jeanie."  Then  coming  close  up  to  her — "  Take  no  rash 
steps  till  you  hear  from  me.  Farewell  !  "  and  he  immediately 
left  the  cottage. 

"  I  wad  gang  too,"  said  the  landed  proprietor  in  an  anx- 
ious, jealous,  and  repining  -tone,  "  but  my  powny  winna  for 
the  life  o'  me  gang  ony  other  road  than  just  frae  Dumbiedikes 
to  this  house-end,  and  sae  straight  back  again." 

"  Ye'll  do  better  for  them,"  said  Saddletree,  as  they  left 
the  house  together,  "  by  sending  me  the  thretty  punds." 

"  Thretty  punds  ?  "  hesitated  Dumbiedikes,  who  was  now 
out  of  the  reach  of  those  eyes  which  had  inflamed  his  gener- 
osity.    "  I  only  said  twenty  punds." 

"Ay;  but,"  said  Saddletree,  "that  was  under  protesta- 
tion to  add  and  eik  ;  and  so  ye  craved  leave  to  amend  your 
libel,  and  made  it  thretty." 

"  Did  I  ?  I  dinna  mind  that  I  did,"  answered  Dumbie- 
dikes. "  But  whatever  I  said  I'll  stand  to."  Then  bestrid- 
ing his  steed  with  some  difficulty,  he  added,  "  Dinna  ye  think 
poor  Jeanie's  een  wi'  the  tears  in  them  glanced  like  lamor 
beads,  Mr.  Saddletree  ?  " 

"  I  kenna  muckle  about  women's  een.  Laird,"  replied  the 
insensible  Bartoline  ;  "  and  I  care  just  as  little.  I  wuss  I 
were  as  weel  free  o'  their  tongues ;  though  few  wives,"  he 
added,  recollecting  the  necessity  of  keeping  up  his  character 
for  domestic  rule,  "are  under  better  command  than  mine. 
Laird.  I  allow  neither  perduellion  nor  lese-majesty  against 
my  sovereign  authority." 

The  Laird  saw  nothing  so  important  in  this  observation  as 
to  call  for  a  rejoinder,  and  when  they  had  exchanged  a  mute 
salutation,  they  parted  in  peace  upon  their  different  errands. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

I'll  warrant  that  fellow  from  drowning,  were  the  ship  no  stronger 
than  a  nut-shell. 

The  Tempest. 

Butler  felt  neither  fatigue  nor  want  of  refreshment,  althougli, 
from  the  mode  in  which  he  had  spent  the  night,  he  might 
well  have  been  overcome  with  either.  But  in  the  earnestness 
with  wliich  he  hastened  to  the  assistance  of  the  sister  of 
Jeanie  Deans  he  forgot  both. 

In  his  first  progress  he  walked  with  so  rapid  a  pace  as 
almost  approaclied  to  running,  when  he  was  surprised  to  hear 
behind  him  a  call  upon  his  name,  contending  with  an  asth- 
matic cough,  and  half  drowned  amid  the  resounding  trot  of 
a  Highland  pony.  He  looked  behind,  and  saw  the  Laird  of 
Dumbiedikes  making  after  him  with  what  speed  he  might,  for 
it  happened,  fortunately  for  the  Laird's  purpose  of  conversing 
with  Butler,  that  his  own  road  homeward  was  for  about  two 
hundred  yards  the  same  with  that  which  led  by  the  nearest 
way  to  the  city.  Butler  stopped  when  he  heard  himself  thus 
summoned,  internally  wishing  no  good  to  the  panting  eques- 
trian who  thus  retarded  his  journey. 

"Uh  !  uh !  uh  !"  ejaculated  Dumbiedikes,  as  he  checked 
the  hobbling  pace  of  the  pony  by  our  friend  Butler.  "^Uh  ! 
uh  !  it's  a  hard-set  willyard  beast  this  o'  mine."  He  had  in 
fact  just  overtaken  the  object  of  his  chase  at  the  very  point 
beyond  which  it  would  have  been  absolutely  impossible  for 
him  to  have  continued  the  pursuit,  since  there  Butlers  road 
parted  from  that  leading  to  Dumbiedikes,  and  no  means  of 
influence  or  compulsion  which  the  rider  could  possibly  have 
used  towards  his  Bucephalus  could  have  induced  the  Celtic 
obstinacy  of  Eory  Bean  (such  was  the  pony's  name)  to  have 
diverged"  a  yard  from  the  path  that  conducted  him  to  his  own 
paddock. 

Even  when  he  had  recovered  from  the  shortness  of  breath 
occasioned  by  a  trot  much  more  rapid  than  Eory  or  he  were 
accustomed  to,  the  high  purpose  of  Dumbiedikes  seemed  to 
stick  as  it  were  in  his  throat,  and  impede  his  utterance,  so 
that  Butler  stood  for  nearly  three  minutes  ere  he  could  utter 


136  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

a  syllable ;  and  when  lie  did  find  voice,  it  was  only  to  say; 
after  one  or  two  efforts,  "Uh  !  nh  !  ulim  !  I  say,  Mr. — Mr, 
Butler,  it's  a  braw  day  for  the  har'st." 

''Fine  day,  indeed,"  said  Butler.  -'I  wish  you  good 
morning,  sir." 

"  Stay — stay  a  bit,"  rejoined  Dumbiedikes  ;  ''that  was  no 
what  I  had  gotten  to  say." 

"  Then,  pray  be  quick  and  let  me  have  your  commands," 
rejoined  Butler.  "  I  crave  your  pardon,  but  I  am  in  haste, 
and  Tempus  nemini — you  know  the  proverb." 

Dumbiedikes  did  not  know  the  proverb,  nor  did  he  even 
take  the  trouble  to  endeavor  to  look  as  if  he  did,  as  others  in 
his  place  might  have  done.  He  was  concentrating  all  his  in- 
tellects for  one  grand  proposition,  and  could  not  afford  any 
detachment  to  defend  outposts.  "  I  say,  Mr.  Butler,"  said 
he,  "ken  ye  if  Mr.  Saddletree's  a  great  lawyer  ?" 

"  I  have  no  person's  word  for  it  but  his  own,"  answered 
Butler,  dryly  ;  "  but  undoubtedly  he  best  understands  his  own 
qualities." 

"  Umph  !"  replied  the  taciturn  Dumbiedikes,  in  a  tone 
which  seemed  to  say,  "  Mr.  Butler,  I  take  your  meaning." 
"  In  that  case,"  he  pursued,  "  I'll  employ  my  ain  man  o'  busi- 
ness, Nichil  Novit — auld  Nichil's  son,  and  amaist  as  gleg  as 
his  father — to  agent  Effie's  plea." 

And  having  thus  displayed  more  sagacity  than  Butler  ex- 
pected from  him,  he  courteously  touched  his  gold-laced  cocked 
hat,  and  by  a  punch  on  the  ribs  conveyed  to  Rory  Bean  it 
was  his  rider's  pleasure  that  he  should  forthwith  proceed 
homewards ;  a  hint  which  the  quadruped  obeyed  with  that 
degree  of  alacrity  with  which  men  and  animals  interpret  and 
obey  suggestions  that  entirely  correspond  with  their  own  in- 
clinations. 

Butler  resumed  his  pace,  not  without  a  momentary  revival 
of  that  jealousy  which  the  honest  Laird's  attention  to  the 
family  of  Deans  had  at  different  times  excited  in  his  bosom. 
But  he  was  too  generous  long  to  nurse  any  feeling  which  was 
allied  to  selfishness.  "He  is,"  said  Butler  to  himself,  "  rich 
in  what  I  want ;  why  should  I  feel  vexed  that  he  has  the  heart 
to  dedicate  some  of  his  pelf  to  render  them  services  which  I 
can  only  form  the  empty  wish  of  executing  ?  In  God's  name, 
let  us  each  do  what  we  can.  May  she  be  but  happy  !  saved 
from  the  misery  and  disgrace  that  seems  impending  !  Let  me 
but  find  the  means  of  preventing  the  fearful  experiment  of 
this  evening,  and  farewell  to  other  thoughts,  though  my 
heart-strings  break  in  parting  with  them  ! " 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  127 

He  redoubled  his  pace,  and  soon  stood  before  the  door  of 
the  tolbooth,  or  rather  before  the  entrance  where  the  door  had 
formerly  been  placed.  His  interview  with  the  mysterious 
stranger,  the  message  to  Jeanie,  his  agitating  conversation 
with  her  on  the  subject  of  breaking  ofE  their  mutual  engage- 
ments, and  the  interesting  scene  with  old  Deans,  had  so  en- 
tirely occupied  his  mind  as  to  drown  even  recollection  of  the 
tragical  event  which  he  had  witnessed  the  preceding  evening. 
His  attention  was  not  recalled  to  it  by  the  groups  who  stood 
scattered  on  the  street  in  conversation,  wdiicli  they  hushed 
when  strangers  approached,  or  by  the  bustling  search  of  the 
agents  of  the  city  ]3olice,  supported  by  small  parties  of  the  mili- 
tary, or  by  the  appearance  of  the  guard-house,  before  which  were 
treble  sentinels,  or,  finally,  by  the  subdued  and  intimidated 
looks  of  the  lower  orders  of  society,  who,  conscious  that  they 
were  liable  to  susj^icion,  if  they  were  not  guilty,  of  accession 
to  a  riot  likely  to  be  strictly  inquired  into,  glided  about  with 
a  humble  and  dismayed  aspect,  like  men  whose  spirits  being 
exhausted  in  the  revel  and  the  dangers  of  a  desperate  debauch 
overnight,  are  nerve-shaken,  timorous,  and  unenterprising  on 
the  succeeding  day. 

None  of  these  symptoms  of  alarm  and  trepidation  struck 
Butler,  whose  mind  was  occupied  with  a  different,  and  to  him 
still  more  interesting,  subject,  until  he  stood  before  the  en- 
trance to  the  prison,  and  saw  it  defended  by  a  double  file  of 
grenadiers,  instead  of  bolts  and  bars.  Their  "  Stand,  stand  ! " 
the  blackened  appearance  of  the  doorless  gateway,  and  the 
winding  staircase  and  apaxtments  of  the  tolbooth,  now  open 
to  the  jDublic  eye,  recalled  the  whole  proceedings  of  the  event- 
ful night.  Upon  his  requesting  to  speak  with  Effie  Deans, 
the  same  tall,  thin,  silver-haired  turnkey  whom  he  had  seen 
on  the  preceding  evening  made  his  appearance. 

"I  think,"  he  replied  to  Butler's  request  of  admission, 
with  true  Scottish  indirectness,  ''ye  will  be  the  same  lad  that 
was  for  in  to  see  her  yestreen  ?  " 

Butler  admitted  he  was  the  same  person. 

"And  I  am  thinking,"  pursued  the  turnkey,  "  that  ye 
speered  at  me  when  we  locked  up,  and  if  we  locked  up  earlier 
on  account  of  Porteous  ?  " 

"  Very  likely  I  might  make  some  such  observation,"  said 
Butler  ;  "  but  the  question  now  is,  can  I  see  Eflfie  Deans  ?  " 

"  I  dinna  ken ;  gang  in  bye,  and  up  the  turnpike  stair, 
and  turn  till  the  ward  on  the  left  hand." 

The  old  man  followed  close  behind  him,  with  his  keys  in 
ids  hand,  not  forgetting  even  that  huge  one  which  had  once 


128  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

opened  and  shut  the  outward  gate  of  his  dominions,  though 
at  present  it  was  but  an  idle  and  useless  burden.  No  sooner 
had  Butler  entered  the  room  to  which  he  was  directed,  than 
the  experienced  hand  of  the  warder  selected  the  proper  key, 
and  locked  it  on  the  outside.  At  first  Butler  conceived  this 
manoeuvre  wa?  only  an  eif  ect  of  the  man^s  habitual  and  official 
caution  and  jealousy.  But  when  he  heard  the  hoarse  com- 
mand, "Turn  out  the  guard  I"  and  immediately  .afterwards 
heard  the  clash  of  a  sentinel's  arms,  as  he  was  posted  at  the 
door  of  his  apartment,  he  again  called  out  to  the  turnkey, 
''Mv  good  friend,  I  have  business  of  some  consequence  with 
Effie  Deans,  and  I  beg  to  see  her  as  soon  as  possible."  No  an- 
swer was  returned.  •'  If  it  be  against  your  rules  to  admit  me," 
repeated  Butler  in  a  still  louder  tone,  "to  see  the  prisoner,  I 
oeg  you  will  tell  me  so,  and  let  me  go  about  my  business. 
Fugit  irrevocahile  tempus ! "  muttered  he  to  himself. 

"If  ye  had  business  to  do,  ye  suld  hae  dune  it  before  ye 
cam  here,"  replied  the  man  of  keys  from  the  outside  ;  "  ye'll 
find  it's  easier  wunnin  in  than  wunnin  out  here.  There's 
sma'  likeiriiood  o'  another  Porteous  Mob  coming  to  rabble  us 
again :  the  law  will  hand  her  ain  now,  neighbor,  and  that 
ye'll  find  to  your  cost." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that,  sir?"  retorted  Butler. 
"You  must  mistake  me  for  some  other  person.  My  name  is 
Reuben  Butler,  preacher  of  the  Gospel." 

"I  ken  that  weel  eneugh,"  said  the  turnkey. 

"  Well,  then,  if  you  know  me,  I  have  a  right  to  know  from 
you,  in  return,  what  warrant  you  have  for  detaining  me  ;  that, 
I  know,  is  the  right  of  every  British  subject." 

"Warrant!"  said  the  jailer.  "The  warrant's  awa'  to 
Liberton  wi'  twa  sheriff  officers  seeking  ye.  If  ye  had  stayed 
at  hame,  as  honest  men  should  do,  ye  wad  hae  seen  the  war- 
rant ;  but  if  ye  come  to  be  incarcerated  of  your  ain  accord, 
wha  can  help  it,  my  jo  ?  " 

"So  I  cannot  see  Effie  Deans,  then,"  said  Butler;  "and 
you  are  determined  not  to  let  me  out  ?  " 

"Troth  will  I  no,  neighbor,"  answered  the  old  man,  dog- 
gedly ;  "  as  for  Effie  Deans,  ye'll  hae  eneugh  ado  to  mind  your 
ain  business,  and  let  her  mind  hers  ;  and  for  letting  you  out, 
that  maun  be  as  the  magistrate  will  determine.  And  fare  ye 
weel  for  a  bit,  for  I  maun  see  Deacon  Sawyers  put  on  ane  or 
twa  o'  the  doors  that  your  quiet  folk  broke  down  yesternight, 
Mr.  Butler." 

There  was  something  in  this  exquisitely  provoking,  but 
there  was  also  something  darkly  alarming.     To  be  imprisoned. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  139 

even  on  a  false  accusation,  has  soniething  in  it  disagreeable 
and  menacing  even  to  men  of  more  constitutional  courage 
than  Butler  had  to  boast ;  for  although  lie  had  much  of  that 
resolution  which  arises  from  a  sense  of  duty  and  an  honorable 
desire  to  discharge  it,  yet,  as  his  imagination  was  lively  and 
his  frame  of  body  delicate,  he  was  far  from  possessing  that 
cool  insensibility  to  danger  which  is  the  happy  portion  of  men 
of  stronger  health,  more  firm  nerves,  and  less  acute  sensibility. 
An  indistinct  idea  of  peril,  which  he  could  neither  understand 
nor  ward  off,  seemed  to  float  before  his  eyes.  He  tried  to 
think  over  the  events  of  the  preceding  night,  in  hopes  of  dis- 
covering some  means  of  explaining  or  vindicating  his  conduct 
for  appearing  among  the  mob,  since  it  immediately  occurred 
to  him  that  his  detention  must  be  founded  on  that  circum- 
stance. And  it  was  with  anxiety  that  he  found  he  could  not 
recollect  to  have  been  under  the  observation  of  any  disinter- 
ested witness  in  the  attempts  that  he  made  from  time  to  time 
to  expostulate  with  the  rioters,  and  to  prevail  on  them  to  re- 
lease him.  The  distress  of  Deans's  family,  the  dangerous 
rendezvous  which  Jeanie  had  formed,  and  which  he  could  not 
now  hope  to  interrupt,  had  also  their  share  in  his  unpleasant 
reflections.  Yet  impatient  as  he  was  to  receive  an  edaircisse- 
menf  upon  the  cause  of  his  confinement,  and  if  possible  to 
obtain  his  liberty,  he  was  affected  with  a  trej)idation  which 
seemed  no  good  omen,  when,  after  remaining  an  hour  in  this 
solitary  apartment,  he  received  a  summons  to  attend  the  sit- 
ting magistrate.  He  was  conducted  from  prison  strongly 
guarded  by  a  party  of  soldiers,  with  a  parade  of  precaution 
that,  however  ill-timed  and  unnecessary,  is  generally  displayed 
after  an  event,  which  such  precaution,  if  used  in  time,  might 
have  prevented. 

He  was  introduced  into  the  Council  Chamber,  as  the  place 
is  called  where  the  magistrates  iiold  their  sittings,  and  which 
was  then  at  a  little  distance  from  the  prison.  One  or  two  of 
tlie  senators  of  the  city  were  present,  and  seemed  about  to 
engage  in  the  examination  of  an  individual  who  was  brought 
forward  to  the  foot  of  the  long  green-covered  table  round 
which  the  council  usually  assembled. 

"Is  that  the  preacher?"  said  one  of  the  magistrates, 
as  the  city  officer  in  attendance  introduced  Butler.  The 
man  answered  in  the  affirmative.  "Let  him  sit  down 
there  an  instant ;  we  will  finish  this  man's  business  very 
briefly." 

"  Shall  we  remove  Mr.  Butler  ?  "  queried  the  assistant. 

**  It  is  not  necessary.     Let  him  remain  where  he  is." 


130  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

Butler  accordingly  sat  down  on  a  bench  at  the  bottom  of 
the  apartment,  attended  by  one  of  his  keepers. 

It  was  a  large  room,  partially  and  imperfectly  lighted  ;  but 
by  chance,  or  the  skill  of  the  architect,  who  might  happen  to 
remember  the  advantage  which  might  occasionally  be  derived 
from  such  an  arrangement,  one  window  was  so  placed  as  to 
throw  a  strong  light  at  the  foot  of  the  table  at  which  prison- 
ers were  usually  posted  for  examination,  while  the  upper  end, 
where  the  examinants  sat,  was  thrown  into  shadow.  Butler's 
©yes  were  instantly  fixed  on  the  person  whose  examination 
was  at  present  proceeding,  in  the  idea  that  he  might  recog- 
nize some  one  of  the  conspirators  of  the  former  night.  But 
though  the  features  of  this  man  were  sufficiently  marked  and 
striking,  he  could  not  recollect  that  he  had  excv  seen  them 
before. 

The  complexion  of  this  person  was  dark,  and  his  age  some- 
what advanced.  He  wore  his  own  hair,  combed  smooth  down, 
and  cut  very  short.  It  was  jet  black,  slightly  curled  by  nat- 
ure, and  already  mottled  with  gray.  The  man's  face  ex- 
pressed rather  knavery  than  vice,  and  a  disposition  to  sharp- 
ness, cunning,  and  roguery,  more  than  the  traces  of  stormy 
and  indulged  passions.  His  sharp,  quick  black  eyes,  acute 
features,  ready  sardonic  smile,  promptitude,  and  effrontery, 
gave  him  altogether  what  is  called  among  the  vulgar  a  hnow- 
ing  look,  which  generally  implies  a  tendency  to  knavery.  At 
a  fair  or  market,  you  could  not  for  a  moment  have  doubted 
that  he  was  a  horse-jockey,  intimalfe  with  all  the  tricks  of  his 
trade  ;  yet  had  you  met  him  on  a  moor,  you  would  not  have 
apprehended  any  violence  from  him.  His  dress  was  also  that 
of  a  horse-dealer — a  close-buttoned  jockey-coat,  or  wrap-ras- 
cal, as  it  was  then  termed,  with  huge  metal  buttons,  coarse 
blue  upper  stockings,  called  boot-hose,  because  supplying  the 
place  of  boots,  and  a  slouched  hat.  He  only  wanted  a  loaded 
whip  under  his  arm  and  a  spur  upon  one  heel  to  complete  the 
dress  of  the  character  he  seemed  to  represent. 

''Your  name  is  James  Eatcliffe  ?"  said  the  magistrate. 

"  Ay,  always  wi'  your  honor's  leave." 

"  That  is  to  say,  you  could  find  me  another  name  if  I  did 
not  like  that  one  ?  " 

"Twenty  to  pick  and  choose  upon,  always  with  your  hon- 
or's leave,"  resumed  the  respondent. 

' '  But  James  Eatcliffe  is  your  present  name  ?  What  is  your 
trade  ?  "  ' 

"  I  canna  just  say,  distinctly,  that  I  have  what  ye  wadca' 
preceesely  a  trade." 


THE  HEART  OE  MIDLOTHIAN  181 

"  Bnt,"  repeated  the  magistrate,  "what  are  your  means 
of  living — your  occupation  ?" 

"  Hont  tout,  your  lionor,  wi'  your  leave,  kens  that  as  weel 
as  I  do/'  replied  the  examined. 

"  No  matter,  I  want  to  hear  you  describe  it,"  said  the  ex- 
aminant. 

"  Me  describe  ?  and  to  your  honor  ?  Far  be  it  from  Jem- 
mie  Eatcliffe,"  responded  the  prisoner. 

"  Come,  sir,  no  trifling  ;  I  insist  ou  an  answer." 

"  Weel,  sir,"  replied  the  declarant,  ''  I  maun  make  a  clean 
breast,  for  ye  see,  wi'  your  leave,  I  am  looking  for  favor.  De- 
scribe my  occupation,  quo'  ye  ?  Troth  it  will  be  ill  to  do  that, 
in  a  feasible  way,  in  a  place  like  this  ;  but  what  is't  again  that 
the  aught  command  says  ?  " 

"  Thou  shalt  not  steal,"  answered  the  magistrate. 

"Are you  sure  o'  that  ?"  replied  the  accused.  "Troth, 
then,  my  occupation  and  that  command  are  sair  at  odds,  for 
I  read  it,  thou  shcdt  steal  ;  and  that  makes  an  unco  dif- 
ference, though  there's  but  a  wee  bit  word  left  out." 

"  To  cut  the  matter  short,  Ratcliffe,  you  have  been  a  most 
notorious  thief,"  said  the  examinant. 

"I  believe  Highlands  and  Lowlands  ken  that,  sir,  forbye 
England  and  Holland,"  replied  Ratcliffe,  with  the  greatest 
composure  and  effrontery. 

"  And  what  d'ye  think  the  end  of  your  calling  will  be  ?'* 
said  tlie  magistrate. 

"'I  could  have  gien  a  braw  guess  yesterday  ;  but  I  dinna 
ken  sae  weel  the  day,"  answered  the  prisoner. 

"  And  what  would  you  have  said  would  have  been  your  end 
had  you  been  asked  the  question  yesterday  ?" 

"Just  tlie  gallows,"  replied  Eatcliffe,  with  the  same  com- 
posure. 

"  You  are  a  daring  rascal,  sir,"  said  the  magistrate  ;  "  and 
how  dare  you  hope  times  are  mended  with  you  to-day  ?  " 

"Dear,  your  honor,"  answered  Ratcliffe,  "there's  muckle 
difference  between  lying  in  prison  under  sentence  of  deatli  and 
staying  there  of  ane's  ain  proper  accord,  when  it  would  have 
cost  a  man  naething  to  get  up  and  rin  awa'.  What  was  to 
hinder  me  from  stepping  out  quietly,  when  the  rabble  walked 
awa'  wi'  Jock  Porteous  yestreen  ?  And  does  your  honor  really 
think  I  stayed  on  purpose  to  be  hanged  ?" 

"  I  do  not  know  what  you  may  have  proposed  to  yourself ; 
but  I  know,"  said  the  magistrate,  "wliat  the  law  proposes  for 
you,  and  that  is  to  hang  you  next  Wednesday  eight  days." 

"Na,  na,  your  honor,"  said  Ratcliffe,  firmly;  "craving 


18S  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

your  honor's  pardon,  I'll  ne'er  believe  that  till  I  see  it.     I  havo 

kenn'd  the  law  this  mony  a  year,  and  mony  a  thrawart  job 
I  hae  had  wi'  her  first  and  last ;  but  the  anld  Jaiid  is  no  sae 
ill  as  that  comes  to  ;  I  aye  fand  her  bark  waur  than  her  bite." 
''And  if  you  do  not  expect  the  gallows,  to  which  you  are 
condemned — for  the  fourth  time  to  my  knowledge — may  I  beg 
the  favor  to  know,"  said  the  magistrate,  "  what  it  is  that  you 
do  expect,  in  consideration  of  your  not  having  taken  your  flight 
with  the  rest  of  the  jail-birds,  which  I  will  admit  was  a  line  of 
conduct  little  to  have  been  expected  ?" 

"  I  would  never  have  thought  for  a  moment  of  staying  in 
that  auld  gousty  toom  house,"  answered  Eatcliffe,  "but  that 
use  and  wont  had  just  gien  me  a  fancy  to  the  place,  and  I'm 
just  expecting  a  bit  post  in't." 

"  A  post  !  "  exclaimed  the  magistrate  ;  "  a  whipping-post, 
I  suppose,  you  mean  ?" 

"  Na,  na,  sir,  I  had  nae  thoughts  o'a  whuppin-post.  After 
having  been  four  times  doomed  to  hang  by  the  neck  till  I  was 
dead,  I  think  I  am  far  beyond  being  whuppit." 

''Then,  in  Heaven's  name,  what  did  you  expect  ?" 
"  Just  the  post  of  uiider-turnkey,  for  I  understand  there's 
a  vacancy,"  said  the  prisoner.  "  I  wadna  think  of  asking  the 
lockman's  *  place  ower  his  head  ;  it  wadna  suit  me  sae  weel  as 
ither  folk,  for  I  never  could  put  a  beast  out  o'  the  way,  much 
less  deal  wi'  a  man." 

"That's  something  in  your  favor,"  said  the  magistrate, 
making  exactly  the  inference  to  which  Eatcliffe  was  desirous 
to  lead  him,  though  he  mantled  his  art  with  an  affectation  of 
oddity.  "But,"  continued  the  magistrate,  ' '  how  do  you  think 
you  can  be  trusted  with  a  charge  in  the  prison,  when  you  have 
broken  at  your  own  hand  half  the  jails  in  Scotland  ?  " 

"  Wi'  your  honor's  leave,"  said  Eatcliffe,  "if  I  kenn'd  sae 
weel  how  to  wun  out  mysell,  it's  like  I  wad  be  a'  the  better  a 
hand  to  keep  other  folk  in.  I  think  they  wad  ken  their  busi- 
ness weel  that  held  me  in  when  I  wanted  to  be  out,  or  wan 
out  when  I  wanted  to  hand  them  in." 

The  remark  seemed  to  strike  the  magistrate,  but  he  made 
no  further  immediate  observation,  only  desired  Eatcliffe  to  be 
removed. 

When  this  daring  and  yet  sly  freebooter  was  out  of  hearing, 
the  magistrate  asked  the  city  clerk,  "  what  he  thought  of  the 
fellow's  assurance  ?" 

"  It's  no  for  me  to  say,  sir,"  replied  the  clerk;  "but  if 
James  Eatcliffe  be  inclined  to  turn  to  good,  there  is  not  a  man 

*  Se»  Note  18. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  138 

8*er  came  within  the  ports  of  the  burgh  could  be  of  S£ie  muckle 
use  to  the  Good  Town  in  the  thief  and  lock-up  line  of  businesa. 
I'll  speak  to  Mr.  Sharpitlaw  about  him." 

Upon  Ratcliffe's  retreat,  Butler  was  placed  at  the  table  for 
examination.  The  magistrate  conducted  his  inquiry  civilly, 
but  yet  in  a  manner  which  gave  him  to  understand  that  he 
labored  under  strong  suspicion.  With  a  frankness  which  at 
once  became  his  calling  and  character.  Butler  avowed  his 
involuntary  presence  at  the  murder  of  Porteous,  and,  at  the 
request  of  the  magistrate,  entered  into  a  minute  detail  of  the 
circumstances  which  attended  that  unhappy  affair.  All  the 
particulars,  such  as  we  have  narrated,  were  taken  minutely 
down  by  the  clerk  from  Butler's  dictation. 

When  the  narrative  was  concluded,  the  cross-examination 
commenced,  which  it  is  a  painful  task  even  for  the  most  candid 
witness  to  undergo,  since  a  story,  especially  if  connected  with 
agitating  and  alarming  incidents,  can  scarce  be  so  clearly  and 
distinctly  told  but  that  some  ambiguity  and  doubt  may  be 
thrown  upon  it  by  a  string  of  successive  and  minute  inter- 
rogatories. 

The  magistrate  commenced  by  observing  that  Butler  had 
said  his  object  was  to  return  to  the  village  of  Liberton,  but 
that  he  was  interrupted  by  the  mob  at  the  West  Port.  *'  Is 
the  West  Port  your  usual  way  of  leaving  town  when  you  go  to 
Liberton  ?  "  said  the  magistrate,  with  a  sneer. 

"  No,  certainly,"  answered  Butler,  with  the  haste  of  a  man 
anxious  to  vindicate  the  accuracy  of  his  evidence;  "but  I 
chanced  to  be  nearer  that  port  than  any  other,  and  the  hour, 
of  shutting  the  gates  was  on  the  point  of  striking." 

"  That  was  unlucky,"  said  the  magistrate,  dryly.  "  Pray, 
being,  as  you  sa}",  under  coercion  and  fear  of  the  lawless  multi- 
tude, and  compelled  to  accompany  them  through  scenes  dis- 
agreeable to  all  men  of  humanity,  and  more  especially  irrecon- 
cilable to  the  profession  of  a  minister,  did  you  not  attempt  t« 
struggle,  resist,  or  escape  from  their  violence  ?  " 

Butler  replied,  "  that  their  numbers  prevented  him  from 
attempting  resistance,  and  their  vigilance  from  effecting  his 
escape." 

"  That  was  unlucky,"  again  repeated  the  magistrate,  in 
the  same  dry  inacquiescent  tone  of  voice  and  manner.  He 
proceeded  with  decency  and  politeness,  but  with  a  stiffness 
which  argued  his  continued  suspicion,  to  ask  many  questions 
concerning  the  behavior  of  the  mob,  the  manners  and  dress  of 
the  ringleaders ;  and  when  he  conceived  that  the  caution  of 
Butler,  if  he  was  deceiving  him,  must  be  lulled  asleep,  the 


184  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

magistrate  suddenly  and  artfully  returned  to  former  parts  of 
his  declaration,  and  required  a  new  recapitulation  of  the  cir- 
cumstances, to  the  minutest  and  most  trivial  point,  which 
attended  each  part  of  the  melancholy  scene.  No  confusion 
or  contradiction,  however,  occurred,  that  could  countenance 
the  suspicion  which  he  seemed  to  have  adopted  against  Butler. 
At  length  the  train  of  his  interrogatories  reached  Madge  Wild- 
fire, at  whose  name  the  magistrate  and  town  clerk  exchanged 
significant  glances.  If  the  fate  of  the  Good  Town  had  de- 
pended on  her  careful  magistrate's  knowing  the  features  and 
dress  of  this  personage,  his  inquiries  could  not  have  been 
more  particular.  But  Butler  could  say  almost  nothing  of  this 
person's  features,  which  were  disguised  apparently  with  red 
paint  and  soot,  like  an  Indian  going  to  battle,  besides  the 
projecting  shade  of  a  curch  or  coif,  which  muffled  the  hair  of 
the  supposed  female.  He  declared  that  he  thought  he  could 
not  know  this  Madge  Wildfire,  if  placed  before  him  in  a 
different  dress,  but  that  he  believed  he  might  recognize  her 
voice.     . 

The  magistrate  requested  him  again  to  state  by  what  gate 
he  left  the  city. 

"  By  the  Cowgate  Port,"  replied  Butler. 

''Was  that  the  nearest  road  to  Liberton  ?" 

"  No,"  answered  Butler,  with  embarrassment ;  ''but  it  was 
the  nearest  way  to  extricate  myself  from  the  mob." 

The  clerk  and  magistrate  again  exchanged  glances. 

"Is  the  Cowgate  Porta  nearer  way  to  Liberton  from  the 
Grassmarket  than  Bristo  Port  ?  " 

"  No,"  replied  Butler  ;  "  but  I  had  to  visit  a  friend." 

"  Indeed  ?  "  said  the  interrogator.  "  You  were  in  a  hurry 
to  tell  the  sight  yon  had  witnessed,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"Indeed  I  was  not,"  replied  Butler;  "nor  did  I  speak 
on  the  subject  the  whole  time  I  was  at  St.  Leonard's 
Crags." 

"  Which  road  did  you  take  to  St.  Leonard's  Crags  ?" 

"  By  the  foot  of  Salisbury  Crags,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Indeed  ?  you  seem  partial  to  circuitous  routes,"  again 
said  the  magistrate.  "Whom  did  you  see  after  you  left 
the  city  ?  " 

•  One  by  one  he  obtained  a  description  of  every  one  of  the 
groups  who  had  passed  Butler,  as  already  noticed,  their  num- 
ber, demeanor,  and  appearance,  and  at  length  came  to  the 
circumstance  of  the  mysterious  stranger  in  the  King's  Park. 
On  this  subject  Butler  would  fain  have  remained  silent.  But 
the  magistrate  had  no  sooner  got  a  slight  hint  concerning  the 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  185 

incident  than  he  seemed  bent  to  possess  himself  of  the  most 
minute  particulars. 

"■  Look  ye,  Mr.  Butler,"  said  he,  "  you  are  a  young  man, 
and  bear  an  excellent  character  ;  so  much  I  will  myself  tes- 
tify in  your  favor.  But  we  are  aware  there  has  been,  at  times, 
a  sort  of  bastard  and  fiery  zeal  in  some  of  your  order,  and  those 
men  irreproachable  in  other  points,  which  has  led  them  into 
doing  and  countenancing  great  irregularities,  by  which  the 
peace  of  the  country  is  liable  to  be  shaken.  I  will  deal  plainly 
with  you.  I  am  not  at  all  satisfied  with  this  story  of  your  set- 
ting out  again  and  again  to  seek  your  dwelling  by  two  several 
roads,  which  were  both  circuitous.  And,  to  be  frank,  no  one 
whom  we  have  examined  on  this  unhappy  affair  could  trace 
in  your  appearance  anything  like  your  acting  under  compul- 
sion. Moreover,  the  waiters  at  the  Cowgate  Port  observed 
something  like  the  trepidation  of  guilt  in  your  conduct,  and 
declare  that  you  were  the  first  to  command  them  to  open  the 
gate,  in  a  tone  of  authority,  as  if  still  presiding  over  the  guards 
and  outposts  of  the  rabble  who  had  besieged  them  the  whole 
night." 

*'  God  forgive  them  !  "  said  Butler.  "1  only  asked  free 
passage  for  myself  ;  they  must  have  much  misunderstood,  if 
they  did  not  wilfully  misrepresent,  me." 

"^  Well,  Mr.  Butler,"  resumed  the  magistrate,  "I  am  in- 
clined to  judge  the  best  and  hope  the  best,  as  I  am  sure  I 
wish  the  best ;  but  you  must  be  frank  with  me,  if  you  wish 
to  secure  my  good  opinion,  and  lessen  the  risk  of  inconven- 
ience to  yourself.  You  have  allowed  you  saw  another  indi- 
vidual in  your  passage  through  the  King's  Park  to  St.  Leon- 
ard's Crags  ;  I  must  know  every  word  which  passed  betwixt 
you." 

Thus  closely  pressed,  Butler,  who  had  no  reason  for  con- 
cealing what  passed  at  tliat  meeting,  unless  because  Jeanie 
Deans  was  concerned  in  it,  thought  it  best  to  tell  the  whole 
truth  from  beginning  to  end. 

"  Do  you  suppose,"  said  the  magistrate,  pausing,  "  that  the 
young  woman  will  accept  an  invitation  so  mysterious  ?  " 

"  I  fear  she  will,"  replied  Butler. 

"Why  do  you  use  the  word  'fear'  it  ?"  said  the  magis- 
trate. 

"Because  I  am  apprehensive  for  her  safety  in  meeting, 
at  such  a  time  and  place,  one  who  had  something  of  the  man- 
ner of  a  desperado,  and  whose  message  Avas  of  a  character  so 
inexplicable." 

"  Her  safety  shall   be  cared   for,"  said    the  magistrate. 


136  WA  VERLEY  NOVELS 

*'Mr.  Butler,  I  am  concerned  I  cannot  immediately  discharge 
you  from  confinement,  but  I  hope  yon  will  not  be  long  de- 
tained. Eemove  Mr.  Butler,  and  let  him  be  provided  with 
decent  accommodation  in  all  respects." 

He  was  conducted  back  to  the  prison  accordingly  ;  but, 
in  the  food  offered  to  him,  as  well  as  in  the  apartment  in 
which  he  was  lodged,  the  recommendation  of  the  magistrate 
was  strictly  attended  to. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

Dark  and  eerie  was  the  night, 

And  lonely  was  the  way, 
As  Janet,  wi'  her  green  mantell, 

To  Miles'  Cross  she  did  gae. 

Old  Ballad. 

Leaying  Bntler  to  all  the  uncomfortable  thoughts  attached 
to  his  new  situation,  among  which  the  most  predominant  wag 
his  feeling  that  he  was,  by  his  confinement,  deprived  of  all 
possibility  of  assisting  the  family  at  St.  Leonard's  in  their 
greatest  need,  we  return  to  Jeanie  Deans,  who  had  seen  him 
depart,  without  an  opportunity  of  further  explanation,  in  all 
that  agony  of  mind  with  which  the  female  heart  bids  adieu 
tc  the  complicated  sensations  so  well  described  by  Coleridge — 

Hopes,  and  fears  that  kindle  hope, 

An  undistinguishable  throng ; 
And  gentle  wishes  long  subdued — 

Subdued  and  cherish'd  long. 

It  is  not  the  firmest  heart  (and  Jeanie,  under  her  russet 
rokelay,  had  one  that  would  not  have  disgraced  Cato's  daugh- 
ter) that  can  most  easily  bid  adieu  to  these  soft  and  mingled 
emotions.  She  wept  for  a  few  minutes  bitterly,  and  without 
attempting  to  refrain  from  this  indulgence  of  passion.  But 
a  moment's  recollection  induced  her  to  check  herself  for  a 
grief  selfish  and  proper  to  her  own  affections,  while  her  father 
and  sister  were  plunged  into  such  deep  and  irretrievable  afflic- 
tion. She  drew  from  her  pocket  the  letter  which  had  been 
that  morning  flung  into  her  apartment  through  an  open  win- 
dow, and  the  contents  of  which  were  as  singular  as  the  ex- 
pression was  violent  and  energetic.  "  If  she  would  save  a 
human  being  from  the  most  damning  guilt,  and  all  its  des- 
perate consequences  ;  if  she  desired  the  life  and  honor  of  her 
sister  to  be  saved  from  the  bloody  fangs  of  an  unjust  law  ; 
if  she  desired  not  to  forfeit  peace  of  mind  here,  and  happi- 
ness hereafter,"  such  was  the  frantic  style  of  the  conjuration, 
*'  she  was  entreated  to  give  a  sure,  secret,  and  solitary  meet- 
ing to  the  writer.     She  alorie  could  rescue  him/'  so  ran  the 


138  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

letter,  ''and  he  only  could  rescue  her."  He  was  in  such  cir- 
cumstances, the  billet  further  informed  her,  that  an  attempt 
to  bring  any  witness  of  their  conference,  or  even  to  mention  to 
her  father,  or  any  other  person  whatsoever,  the  letter  which 
requested  it,  would  inevitably  prevent  its  taking  place,  and 
insure  the  destruction  of  her  sister.  The  letter  concluded 
with  incoherent  but  violent  protestations  that  in  obeying  this 
summons  she  had  nothing  to  fear  personally. 

The  message  delivered  to  her  by  Butler  from  the  stranger 
in  the  Park  tallied  exactly  with  the  contents  of  the  letter, 
but  assigned  a  later  hour  and  a  different  place  of  meeting. 
Apparently  the  writer  of  the  letter  had  been  compelled  to 
let  Butler  so  far  into  his  confidence,  for  the  sake  of  announ- 
cing this  change  to  Jeanie.  She  was  more  than  once  on  the 
point  of  producing  the  billet,  in  vindication  of  herself  from 
her  lover's  half-hinted  suspicions.  But  there  is  something  in 
stooping  to  Justification  which  the  pride  of  innocence  does  not 
at  all  timss  willingly  submit  to  ;  besides  that  the  threats  con- 
tained in  the  letter,  in  case  of  her  betraying  the  secret,  hung 
heavy  on  her  heart.  It  is  probable,  however,  that,  had  they 
remained  longer  together,  she  might  have  taken  the  resolu- 
tion to  submit  the  whole  matter  to  Butler,  and  be  guided  by 
him  as  to  the  line  of  conduct  which  she  should  adopt.  And 
vthen,  by  the  sudden  interruption  of  their  conference,  she 
lost  the  ojjportunity  of  doing  so,  she  felt  as  if  she  had  been 
unjust  to  a  friend  whose  advice  might  have  been  highly  use- 
ful, and  whose  attachment  deserved  her  full  and  unreserved 
confidence. 

To  have  recourse  to  her  father  upon  this  occasion,  she 
considered  as  highly  imprudent.  There  was  no  possibility  of 
conjecturing  in  what  light  the  matter  might  strike  old  David, 
whose  manner  of  acting  and  thinking  in  extraordinary  cir- 
cumstances depended  upon  feelings  and  principles  peculiar  to 
himself,  the  operation  of  wliich  could  not  be  calculated  upon 
even  by  those  best  acquainted  with  him.  To  have  requested 
some  female  friend  to  have  accompanied  her  to  the  place  of 
rendezvoas  would  perhaps  have  been  the  most  eligible  expedi- 
ent ;  but  the  threats  of  the  writer,  that  betraying  his  secret 
would  prevent  tlieir  meeting,  on  which  her  sister's  safety  was 
said  to  depend,  from  taking  place  at  all,  would  have  deterred 
her  from  making  such  a  confidence,  even  had  she  known  a 
person  in  whom  she  thought  it  could  with  safety  have  been 
reposed.  But  she  knew  none  such.  Their  acquaintance  with 
the  cottagers  in  the  vicinity  had  been  very  slight,  and  limited 
to  trifling  acts  of  good  neighborhood.     Jeanie  knew  little  of 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  189 

them,  and  what  she  knew  did  not  greatly  incline  her  to  trust 
any  of  them.  They  were  of  the  order  of  loqnacions  good- 
humored  gossips  usually  found  in  their  situation  of  life  ;  and 
their  conversation  had  at  all  times  few  charms  for  a  young 
woman  to  whom  nature  and  the  circumstances  of  a  solitary 
life  had  given  a  depth  of  thought  and  force  of  character  su- 
perior to  the  frivolous  part  of  her  sex  whether  in  high  or  low 
degree. 

Left  alone  and  separated  from  all  earthly  counsel,  she  had 
recourse  to  a  Friend  and  Adviser  whose  ear  is  open  to  theory 
of  the  poorest  and  most  afflicted  of  His  people.  She  knelt 
and  prayed  with  fervent  sincerity  that  God  would  please  to 
direct  her  what  course  to  follow  in  her  arduous  and  distressing 
situation.  It  was  the  belief  of  the  time  and  sect  to  which  she 
belonged  that  special  answers  to  prayer,  differing  little  in  their 
character  from  divine  inspiration,  were,  as  they  expressed  it, 
"  borne  in  upon  their  minds  "  in  answer  to  their  earnest  peti- 
tions in  a  crisis  of  difficulty.  Without  entering  into  an  ab- 
struse point  of  divinity,  one  thing  is  plain  ;  namely,  that  the 
person  who  lays  open  his  doubts  and  distresses  in  prayer,  with 
feeling  and  sincerity,  must  necessarily,  in  the  act  of  doing  so, 
purify  his  mind  from  the  dross  of  worldly  passions  and  inter- 
ests, and  bring  it  into  that  state  when  the  resolutions  adopted 
are  likely  to  be  selected  rather  from  a  sense  of  duty  than  from 
any  inferior  motive.  Jeanie  arose  from  her  devotions  with 
her  heart  fortified  to  endure  affliction  and  encouraged  to  face 
difficulties. 

"I  will  meet  this  unhappy  man,"  she  said  to  herself — 
*'  unhappy  he  must  be,  since  I  doubt  he  has  been  the  cause  of 
poor  Effie's  misfortune  ;  but  I  will  meet  him,  be  it  for  good 
or  ill.  My  mind  shall  never  cast  up  to  me  that,  for  fear  of 
what  might  be  said  or  done  to  myself,  I  left  that  undone  that 
might  even  yet  be  the  rescue  of  her." 

With  a  mind  greatly  composed  since  the  adoption  of  this 
resolution,  she  went  to  attend  her  father.  The  old  man,  firm 
in  the  principles  of  his  youth,  did  not,  in  outward  aijpearance 
at  least,  permit  a  thought  of  his  family  distress  to  interfere 
with  the  stoical  reserve  of  his  countenance  and  manners.  He 
even  chid  his  daughter  for  having  neglected,  in  the  distress 
of  the  morning,  some  trifling  domestic  duties  which  fell  under 
her  department. 

"  Why,  what  meaneth  this,  Jeanie  ?"  said  the  old  man. 
"  The  brown  four-year-auld's  milk  is  not  seiled  yet,  nor  the 
bowies  put  up  on  the  bink.  If  ye  neglect  your  warldly  duties 
in  the  day  of  affliction,  what  confidence  have  I  that  ye  mind 


140  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

the  greater  matters  that  concern  salvation  ?  God  knows,  onr 
bowies,  and  our  pipkins,  and  our  draps  o'  milk,  and  our  bits 
o'  bread  are  nearer  and  dearer  to  us  than  the  bread  of  life." 

Jeanie,  not  unpleased  to  hear  her  fatlier's  thoughts  thus 
expand  themselves  beyond  the  sphere  of  his  immediate  distress, 
obeyed  him,  and  proceeded  to  put  her  household  matters  in 
order  ;  while  old  David  moved  from  place  to  place  about  his 
ordinary  employments,  scarce  showing,  unless  by  a  nervous 
impatience  at  remaining  long  stationary,  an  occasional  con- 
ynlsive  sigh,  or  twinkle  of  the  eyelid,  that  he  was  laboring 
under  the  yoke  of  such  bitter  affliction. 

The  hour  of  noon  came  on,  and  the  father  and  child  sat 
down  to  their  homely  repast.  In  his  petition  for  a  blessing 
on  the  meal,  the  poor  old  man  added  to  his  supplication  a 
prayer  that  the  bread  eaten  in  sadness  of  heart,  and  the  bitter 
waters  of  Merali,  miglit  be  made  as  nourishing  as  those  which 
had  been  poured  forth  from  a  full  cup  and  a  plentiful  basket 
and  store  ;  and  having  concluded  his  benediction,  and  re- 
sumed the  bonnet  which  he  had  laid  ''reverently  aside,"  he 
proceeded  to  exhort  his  daughter  to  eat,  not  by  example,  in- 
deed, but  at  least  by  precept. 

"  The  man  after  God's  own  heart,"  he  said,  ''washed  and 
anointed  himself,  and  did  eat  bread,  in  order  to  express  his  sub- 
mission under  a  dispensation  of  suffering,  and  it  did  not  be- 
come a  Christian  man  or  woman  so  to  cling  to  creature-com- 
forts of  wife  or  bairns  [here  the  words  became  too  great,  as  it 
were,  for  his  utterance]  as  to  forget  the  first  duty — submission 
to  the  Divine  will." 

To  add  force  to  his  precept,  he  took  a  morsel  on  his  plate, 
but  nature  proved  too  strong  even  for  the  powerful  feelings 
with  which  he  endeavored  to  bridle  it.  Ashamed  of  his  weak- 
ness, he  started  up  and  ran  out  of  the  house,  with  haste  very 
unlike  the'deliberation  of  .his  usual  movements.  In  less  than 
five  minutes  he  returned,  having  successfully  struggled  to 
recover  his  ordinary  composure  of  mind  and  countenance,  and 
affected  to  color  over  his  late  retreat  by  muttering  that  he 
thought  he  heard  the  "  young  staig  loose  in  the  byre." 

He  did  not  again  trust  himself  with  the  subject  of  his 
former  conversation,  and  his  daughter  was  glad  to  see  that  he 
seemed  to  avoid  further  discourse  on  that  agitating  topic. 
The  hours  glided  on,  as  on  they  must  and  do  pass,  whether 
winged  with  Joy  or  laden  with  affliction.  The  sun  set  beyond 
the  dusky  eminence  of  the  Castle  and  the  screen  of  western 
hills,  and  the  close  of  evening  summoned  David  Deans  and 
his  daughter  to  the  family  duty  of  the  evening.     It  came  bit- 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  141 

terly  upon  Jeanie's  recollection  how  often,  when  the  hour  of 
worship  approached,  she  used  to  watch  the  lengthening  shad- 
ows, and  look  out  from  the  door  of  the  house,  to  see  if  she 
could  spy  her  sister's  return  homeward.  Alas  !  this  idle  and 
thoughtless  waste  of  time,  to  what  evils  had  it  not  finally  led  ? 
And  was  she  altogether  guiltless,  who,  noticing  Effie's  turn 
to  idle  and  light  society,  had  not  called  in  her  father's  author- 
ity to  restrain  her  ?  "But  I  acted  for  the  best,"  she  again 
reflected,  ''  and  who  could  have  expected  such  a  growth  of  evil 
from  one  grain  of  human  leaven  in  a  disposition  so  kind,  and 
candid,  and  generous  ?" 

As  they  sat  down  to  the  "exercise,"  as  it  is  called,  a  chair 
happened  accidentally  to  stand  in  the  place  which  Effie  usually 
occupied.  David  Deans  saw  his  daughter's  eyes  swim  in  tears 
as  they  were  directed  towards  this  object,  and  pushed  it  aside 
with  a  gesture  of  some  impatience,  as  if  desirous  to  destroy 
every  memorial  of  earthly  interest  when  about  to  address  the 
Deity.  The  portion  of  Scripture  was  read,  the  psalm  was 
sung,  the  prayer  was  made  ;  and  it  was  remarkable  that,  in 
discharging  these  duties,  the  old  man  avoided  all  passages  and 
expressions,  of  which  Scripture  affords  so  many,  that  might 
be  considered  as  applicable  to  his  own  domestic  misfortune. 
In  doing  so  it  was  perhaps  his  intention  to  spare  the  feelings 
of  his  daughter,  as  well  as  to  maintain,  in  outward  show  at 
least,  that  stoical  appearance  of  patient  endurance  of  all  the 
evil  which  earth  could  bring,  which  was,  in  his  opinion,  es- 
sential to  the  character  of  oiie  who  rated  all  earthly  things  at 
their  own  just  estimate  of  nothingness.  When  he  had  fin- 
ished the  duty  of  the  evening,  he  came  up  to  his  daughter, 
wished  her  good-night,  and,  having  done  so,  continued  to  hold 
her  by  the  hands  for  half  a  minute  ;  then  drawing  her  towards 
him,  kissed  her  forehead,  and  ejaculated,  ''The  God  of  Israel 
bless  you,  even  with  the  blessings  of  the  promise,  my  dear 
bairn!" 

It  was  not  either  in  the  natui'e  or  habits  of  David  Deans 
to  seem  a  fond  father  ;  nor  was  he  often  observed  to  ex- 
perience, or  at  least  to  evince,  that  fulness  of  the  heart 
which  seeks  to  expand  itself  in  tender  expressions  or  caresses 
even  to  those  who  were  dearest  to  him.  On  the  contrary,  he 
used  to  censure  this  as  a  degree  of  weakness  in  several  of  his 
neighbors,  and  particularly  in  poor  widow  Butler.  It  fol- 
lowed, however,  from  the  rarity  of  such  emotions  in  this  self- 
denied  and  reserved  man,  that  his  children  attached  to  occa- 
sional marks  of  his  affection  and  approbation  a  degree  of  high 
interest  and  solemnity,  well  considering  them  as  evidences  of 


142  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

feelings  which  were  only  expressed  when  they  became  too  in- 
tense for  suppression  or  concealment. 

With  deep  emotion,  therefore,  did  he  bestow,  and  his 
daughter  receive,  this  benediction  and  paternal  caress.  ' '  And 
you,  my  dear  father,"  exclaimed  Jeanie,  when  the  door  had 
closed  upon  the  venerable  old  man,  "  may  you  have  purchased 
and  promised  blessings  multiplied  upon  you — upon  you,  who 
walk  in  this  world  as  though  ye  were  not  of  the  world,  and 
hold  all  that  it  can  give  or  take  away  but  as  the  midges  that 
the  sun-blink  brings  out  and  the  evening  wind  sweeps  away  !" 

She  now  made  preparation  for  her  night-walk.  Her 
father  slept  in  another  part  of  the  dwelling,  and,  regular  in 
all  his  habits,  seldom  or  never  left  his  apartment  when  he  had 
betaken  himself  to  it  for  the  evening.  It  was  therefore  easy 
for  her  to  leave  the  house  unobserved,  so  soon  as  the  time 
approached  at  which  she  was  to  keep  her  appointment.  But 
the  step  she  was  about  to  take  had  difficulties  and  terrors  in 
her  own  eyes,  though  she  had  no  reason  to  apprehend  her 
father's  interference.  Her  life  had  been  spent  in  the  quiet, 
uniform,  and  regular  seclusion  of  their  peaceful  and  mo- 
notonous household.  The  very  hour  which  some  damsels 
of  the  present  day,  as  well  of  her  own  as  of  higher  degree, 
would  consider  as  the  natural  period  of  commencing  an  even- 
ing of  pleasure,  brought,  in  her  opinion,  awe  and  solemnity 
in  it ;  and  the  resolution  she  had  taken  had  a  strange,  daring 
and  adventurous  character,  to  which  she  could  hardly  recon- 
cile herself  when  the  moment  approached  for  putting  it  into 
execution.  Her  hands  trembled  as  she  snooded  her  fair 
hair  beneath  the  ribbon,  then  the  only  ornament  or  cover 
which  young  unmarried  women  wore  on  their  head,  and  as 
she  adjusted  the  scarlet  tartan  screen  or  muffler  made  of 
plaid,  which  the  Scottish  women  wore,  much  in  the  fashion 
of  the  black  silk  veils  still  a  part  of  female  dress  in  the  Nether- 
lands. A  sense  of  impropriety  as  well  as  of  danger  pressed 
upon  her,  as  she  lifted  the  latch  of  her  paternal  mansion  to 
leave  it  on  so  wild  an  expedition,  and  at  so  late  an  hour,  un- 
proteeted,  and  without  the  knowledge  of  her  natural  guardian. 

When  she  found  herself  abroad  and  in  the  open  fields,  ad- 
ditional subjects  of  apprehension  crowded  upon  her.  The 
dim  cliffs  and  scattered  rocks,  interspersed  with  greensward, 
through  which  she  had  to  pass  to  the  place  of  appointment, 
as  they  glimmered  before  her  in  a  clear  autumn  night,  recalled 
to  her  memory  many  a  deed  of  violence,  which,  according  to 
tradition,  had  been  done  and  suffered  among  them.  In  earlier 
days  they  had  been  the  haunt  of  robbers  and  assassins,  the 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  143 

memory  of  whose  crimes  is  preserved  in  the  various  edicts 
which  the  council  of  the  city,  and  even  the  parliament  of  Scot- 
land, had  passed  for  dispersing  their  bands,  and  insuring  safety 
to  the  lieges,  so  near  the  precincts  of  the  city.  The  names 
of  these  criminals,  and  of  their  atrocities,  were  still  remembered 
in  traditions  of  the  scattered  cottages  and  the  neighboring 
suburb.  In  latter  times,  as  we  have  already  noticed,  the 
sequestered  and  broken  character  of  the  ground  rendered  it 
a  fit  theatre  for  duels  and  rencontres  among  the  fiery  youth  of 
the  period.  Two  or  three  of  these  incidents,  all  sanguinary, 
and  one  of  them  fatal  in  its  termination,  had  happened  since 
Deans  came  to  live  at  St.  Leonard's.  His  daughter's  recollec- 
tions, therefore,  were  of  blood  and  horror  as  she  jDursued  the 
small  scarce-tracked  solitary  path,  every  step  of  which  con- 
veyed her  to  a  greater  distance  from  help,  and  deeper  into  the 
ominous  seclusion  of  these  unhallowed  precincts. 

As  the  moon  began  to  peer  forth  on  the  scene  with  a 
doubtful,  flitting,  and  solemn  light,  Jeanie's  apprehensions 
took  another  turn,  too  peculiar  to  her  rank  and  country  to 
remain  unnoticed.  But  to  trace  its  origin  will  require  another 
chapter. 


CHAPTEE  XV 

The  spirit  I  have  seen 
May  be  the  devil.     And  the  devil  has  power 
To  assume  a  pleasing  shape. 

Ramlet. 

y 

"Witchcraft  and  demonology,  as  we  have  had  already  occasion 
to  remark,  were  at  this  period  believed  in  by  almost  all  ranks, 
but  more  especially  among  the  stricter  classes  of  Presbyterians, 
whose  government,  when  their  party  were  at  the  head  of  the 
state,  had  been  much  sullied  by  their  eagerness  to  inquire  into 
and  persecute  these  imaginary  crimes.  Now,  in  this  point  of 
view,  also,  St.  Leonard's  Crags  and  the  adjacent  chase  were  a 
dreaded  and  ill-reputed  district.  Not  only  had  witches  held 
their  meetings  there,  but  even  of  very  late  years  the  entliusi- 
ast,  or  impostor,  mentioned  in  the  Pandmmomum  of  Richard 
Bovet,  G-entleman,*  had,  among  the  recesses  of  these  romantic 
cliffs,  fourid  liis  way  into  the  hidden  retreats  where  the  fairies 
revel  in  the  bowels  of  the  earth. 

With  all  these  legends  Jeanie  Deans  was  too  well  acquainted 
to  escape  that  strong  impression  which  they  usually  make  on 
the  imagination.  Indeed,  relations  of  this  ghostly  kind  had 
been  familiar  to  her  from  her  infancy,  for  they  were  the  only 
relief  which  her  father's  conversation  afforded  from  contro- 
versial argument,  or  the  gloomy  history  of  the  strivings  and 
testimonies,  escapes,  captures,  tortures,  and  executions  of 
those  martyrs  of  the  Covenant  with  whom  it  was  his  chiefest 
boast  to  say  he  had  been  acquainted.  In  the  recesses  of 
mountains,  in  caverns,  and  in  morasses,  to  which  these  perse- 
cuted enthusiasts  were  so  ruthlessly  pursued,  they  conceived 
they  had  often  to  contend  with  the  visible  assaults  of  the 
Enemy  of  mankind,  as  in  the  cities  and  in  the  cultivated  fields 
they  were  exposed  to  those  of  the  tyrannical  government  and 
their  soldiery.  Such  were  the  terrors  which  made  one  of  their 
gifted  seers  exclaim,  when  his  companion  returned  to  him, 
after  having  left  him  alone  in  a  haunted  cavern  in  Sorn  in 
Galloway,  "  It  is  hard  living  in  this  world — incarnate  devils 
above  the  aartli,  and  devils  under  the  earth  !     Satan  has  been 

*  See  The  Fairy  Boy  of  Leith.    Note  19. 
144 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  145 

here  since  ye  went  away,  but  I  have  dismissed  him  by  resist- 
ance ;  we  will  be  no  more  troubled  with  him  this  night." 
David  Deans  believed  this,  and  many  other  such  ghostly  en- 
counters and  victories,  on  the  faith  of  the  ansars,  or  auxiliaries 
of  the  banished  prophets.  This  event  was  beyond  David's  re- 
membrance. But  he  used  to  tell  with  great  awe,  yet  not  with- 
out a  feeling  of  proud  superiority  to  his  auditors,  how  he 
himself  had  been  present  at  a  field-meetiug  at  Crochmade, 
when  the  duty  of  the  day  was  interrupted  by  the  apparition 
of  a  tall  black  man,  who,  in  the  act  of  crossing  a  ford  to  join 
the  congregation,  lost  ground,  and  was  carried  down  appar- 
ently by  the  force  of  the  stream.  All  were  instantly  at  work 
to  assist  him,  but  with  so  little  success  that  ten  or  twelve  stout 
men,  who  had  hold  of  the  roj^e  which  they  had  cast  in  to  his 
aid,  were  rather  in  danger  to  be  dragged  into  the  stream,  and 
lose  their  own  lives,  than  likely  to  save  that  of  the  supposed 
perishing  man,  "  But  famous  John  Semple  of  Carspharn," 
David  Deans  used  to  say  with  exultation,  "  saw  the  whaup  in 
the  rape.  '  Quit  the  rope,'  he  cried  to  us — for  I  that  was 
but  a  callant  had  a  baud  o'  the  rape  mysell — '  it  is  the  Great 
Enemy  !  he  will  burn,  but  not  drown  ;  his  design  is  to  disturb 
the  good  wark,  by  raising  wonder  and  confusion  in  your  minds, 
to  put  off  from  your  spirits  all  that  ye  hae  heard  and  felt.' 
Sae  we  let  go  the  rape,"  said  David,  "  and  he  went  adown  the 
water  screeching  and  bullering  like  a  Bull  of  Bashan,  as  he's 
caid  in  Scripture."* 

Trained  in  these  and  similar  legends,  it  was  no  wonder 
that  Jeanie  began  to  feel  an  ill-defined  apprehensioji,  not 
merely  of  the  phantoms  which  might  beset  her  way,  but  of  the 
quality,  nature,  and  purpose  of  the  being  who  had  thus  ap- 
pointed her  a  meeting  at  a  place  and  hour  of  horror,  and  at 
a  time  when  her  mind  must  be  necessarily  full  of  those 
tempting  and  ensnaring  thoughts  of  grief  and  despair  which 
were  supposed  to  lay  sufferers  particularly  open  to  the  temp- 
tations of  the  Evil  One.  If  such  an  idea  had  crossed  even 
Butler's  well-informed  mind,  it  was  calculated  to  make  a  much 
stronger  impression  upon  hers.  Yet  firmly  believing  the 
possibility  of  an  encounter  so  terrible  to  flesh  and  blood, 
Jeanie,  with  a  degree  of  resolution  of  which  we  cannot  suffi- 
ciently estimate  the  merit,  because  the  incredulity  of  the  age 
has  rendered  us  strangers  to  the  nature  and  extent  of  her 
feelings,  persevered  in  her  determination  not  to  omit  an  op- 
portunity of  doing  something  towards  saving  her  sister,  al- 
though, in  the  attempt  to  avail  herself  of  it,  she  might  be 

•  See  Intercourse  of  the  Covenanters  with  the  Invisible  World.    Note  80. 


146  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

exposed  to  dangers  so  dreadful  to  her  imagination.  So,  UX& 
Christiana  in  the  Pilgrim's  Progress,  wlien  traversing  w>th  a 
timid  3^et  resolved  step  the  terrors  of  the  Valley  of  the 
Shadow  of  Death,  she  glided  on  by  rock  and  stone,  '*notV  in 
glimmer  and  now  in  gloom,"  as  her  path  lay  through  moon- 
light or  shadow,  and  endeavored  to  overpower  the  suggestions 
of  fear,  sometimes  by  fixing  her  mind  upon  the  distressed 
condition  of  her  sister,  and  the  duty  she  lay  under  to  aiford 
her  aid,  should  that  be  in  her  power,  and  more  frequently  by 
recurring  in  mental  prayer  to  the  protection  of  that  Being  to 
whom  night  is  as  noonday. 

Thus  drowning  at  one  time  her  fears  by  fixing  her  mind 
on  a  subject  of  overpowering  interest,  and  arguing  them 
down  at  others  by  referring  herself  to  the  protection  of  the 
Deity,  she  at  length  aj)proaclied  the  place  assigned  for  this 
mysterious  conference. 

It  was  situated  in  the  depth  of  the  valley  behind  Salis- 
bury Crags,  which  has  for  a  background  the  north-western 
shoulder  of  the'  mountain  called  Arthur's  Seat,  on  whose 
descent  still  remain  the  ruins  of  what  was  once  a  chapel,  or 
hermitage,  dedicated  to  St.  Anthony  the  Eremite.  A  better 
site  for  such  a  building  could  hardly  have  been  selected  ;  for 
the  chapel,  situated  ainong  the  rude  and  pathless  cliffs,  lies 
in  a  desert,  even  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  a  rich,  popu- 
lous, and  tumultuous  capital  ;  and  the  hum  of  the  city  might 
mingle  with  the  orisons  of  the  recluses,  conveying  as  little  of 
worldly  interest  as  if  it  had  been  the  roar  of  the  distant  ocean. 
Beneath  the  steep  ascent  on  which  these  ruins  are  still  visible, 
was,  and  perhaps  is  still,  pointed  out  the  place  where  the 
wretch  Nicol  Muschat,  who  has  been  already  mentioned  in 
these  pages,  had  closed  a  long  scene  of  cruelty  towards  his 
unfortunate  wife  by  murdering  her,  with  circumstances  of  un- 
common barbarity.  The  execration  in  which  the  man's  crime 
was  held  extended  itself  to  the  place  where  it  was  perpetrated, 
which  was  marked  by  a  small  cairn,  or  heap  of  stones,  com- 
posed of  those  which  each  chance  passenger  had  thrown  tliCi-e 
in  testimony  of  abhorrence,  and  on  the  principle,  it  would 
seem,  of  the  ancient  Britisli  malediction,  "  May  you  have  a 
cairn  for  your  burial-place  !  " 

As  our  heroine  approached  this  ominous  and  unhallowed 
spot,  she  paused  and  looked  to  the  moon,  now  rising  broad  on 
the  north-west,  and  shedding  a  more  distinct  light  than  it  had 
afforded  during  her  walk  thither.  Eying  the  planet  for  a 
moment,  she  then  slowly  and  fearfully  turned  her  head  towards 
the  calm,  from  which  it  was  at  first  averted.     She  was  at  first 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  147 

disappointed.  Nothing  was  visible  beside  the  little  pile  of 
stones,  which  shone  gray  in  the  moonlight.  A  multitude  of 
confused  suggestions  rushed  on  her  mind.  Had  her  corre- 
spondent deceived  her,  and  broken  his  appointment  ?  was  he  too 
tardy  at  the  appointment  he  had  made  ?  or  had  some  strange 
turn  of  fate  prevented  him  from  appearing  as  he  proposed  ? 
or,  if  he  were  an  unearthly  being,  as  her  secret  apprehensions 
suggested,  was  it  his  object  merely  to  delude  her  with  false 
hopes,  and  put  her  to  unnecessary  toil  and  terror,  according  to 
the  nature,  as  she  had  heard,  of  those  wandering  demons  ?  or 
did  he  purpose  to  blast  her  with  the  sudden  horrors  of  his 
presence  when  she  had  come  close  to  the  place  of  rendezvous  ? 
These  anxious  reflections  did  not  prevent  her  approaching  to 
the  cairn  with  a  pace  that,  though  slow.  Avas  determined 

When  she  was  within  two  yards  of  the  heap  of  stones,  a 
figure  rose  suddenly  up  from  behind  it,  and  Jeanie  scarce 
forbore  to  scream  aloud  at  what  seemed  the  realization  of  the 
most  frightful  of  her  anticipations.  She  constrained  herself  to 
silence,  however,  and,  making  a  dead  pause,  suffered  the  figure 
to  open  the  conversation,  which  he  did  by  asking,  in  a  voice 
which  agitation  rendered  tremulous  and  hollow,  "  Are  you  the 
sister  of  that  ill-fated  young  woman  ?  " 

"  I  am  ;  I  am  the  sister  of  Eflfie  Deans  ! "  exclaimed  Jeanie. 
"  And  as  ever  you  hoj^e  God  will  hear  you  at  your  need,  tell 
me,  if  you  can  tell,  what  can  be  done  to  save  her  ! " 

'^Ido  not  hope  God  will  hear  me  at  my  need,"  was  the 
singular  answer.  "  I  do  not  deserve — I  do  not  expect  He  will. " 
This  desperate  language  he  uttered  in  a  tone  calmer  than  that 
with  which  he  had  at  first  spoken,  probably  because  the  shock  of 
first  addressing  her  was  what  he  felt  most  diflficult  to  overcome. 

Jeanie  remained  mute  with  horror  to  hear  language  ex- 
pressed so  utterly  foreign  to  all  which  she  had  ever  been  ac- 
quainted with,  that  it  sounded  in  her  ears  rather  like  that  of  a 
fiend  than  of  a  human  being. 

The  stranger  pursued  his  address  to  her  without  seeming  to 
notice  her  surprise.  "  You  see  before  you  a  wretch  predes- 
tined to  evil  here  and  hereafter." 

"For  the  sake  of  Heaven,  that  hears  and  sees  us,"  said 
Jeanie,  "  dinna  speak  in  this  desperate  fashion.  The  Gos- 
pel is  sent  to  the  chief  of  sinners — to  the  most  miserable 
among  the  miserable." 

"  Then  should  I  have  my  own  share  therein,"  said  the 
stranger,'^ if  you  call  it  sinful  to  have  been  the  destruction  of 
the  mother  that  bore  me,  of  the  friend  that  loved  me,  of  the 
woman  that  trusted  me,  of  the  injioceat  child  that  was  born 


148  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

to  me.  If  to  have  done  all  this  is  to  be  a  sinner,  and  to  sur- 
vive it  is  to  be  miserable,  then  am  I  most  guilty  and  most  mis- 
erable indeed." 

"'Then  you  are  the  wicked  causeof  my  sister's  ruin  ?"said 
Jeaiiie,  with  a  natural  touch  of  indignation  expressed  in  her 
tone  of  voice. 

"  Curse  me  for  it  if  j-ou  will,"  said  the  stranger ;  "  I  have 
well  deserved  it  at  your  hand." 

"  It  is  fitter  for  me,"  said  Jeanie,  ''  to  pray  to  Grod  to  for- 
give you." 

"  Do  as  you  will,  how  you  will,  or  what  you  will,"  he  re- 
plied, with  vehemence  ;  "  only  promise  to  obey  my  directions, 
and  save  your  sister's  life." 

"I  must  first  know,"  said  Jeanie,  "the  means  you  would 
have  me  use  in  her  behalf." 

"  No  !  you  must  first  swear — solemnly  swear — that  you 
will  employ  them,  when  I  make  them  known  to  you." 

"  Surely  it  is  needless  to  swear  that  I  will  do  all  that  is  law- 
ful to  a  Christian  to  save  the  life  of  my  sister  ? " 

"  I  will  have  no  reservation  ! "  thundered  the  stranger. 
**  Lawful  or  unlawful.  Christian  or  heathen,  you  shall  swear 
to  do  my  hest  and  act  by  my  counsel,  or — you  little  know 
whose  wrath  you  provoke  ! " 

"I  will  think  on  what  you  have  said," said  Jeanie,  who  be- 
gan to  get  much  alarmed  at  the  frantic  vehemence  of  his  man- 
ner, and  disputed  in  her  own  mind  whether  she  spoke  to  a 
maniac  or  an  apostate  spirit  incarnate — "' I  will  think  on  what 
you  say,  and  let  you  ken  to-morrow." 

"  To-morrow  !  "  exclaimed  the  man,  with  a  laugh  of  scorn. 
* '  And  wliere  will  I  be  to-morrow  ?  or  where  will  you  be  to- 
night, unless  you  swear  to  walk  by  my  counsel  ?  There  was 
one  accursed  deed  done  at  this  spot  before  now ;  and  thei'e 
shall  be  another  to  match  it  unless  you  yield  up  to  my  guid- 
ance body  and  soul." 

As  he  spoke,  lie  offered  a  pistol  at  the  unfortunate  young 
woman.  She  neither  fled  nor  fainted,  but  sunk  on  her  kneea 
and  asked  him  to  spare  her  life. 

"Is  that  all  you  have  to  say?"  said  the  unmoved  ruffian. 

"'  Do  not  dip  your  hands  in  the  blood  of  a  defenceless  creat- 
ure that  has  trusted  to  you,"  said  Jeanie,  still  on  her  knees. 

"  Is  that  all  you  can  say  for  your  life?  Have  you  no  prom- 
ise to  give  ?  Will  you  destroy  your  sister,  and  compel  me  to 
shed  more  blood  ?  " 

"  I  can  promise  nothing,"  said  Jeanie,  "  which  is  unlaw- 
ful for  a  Christian.*' 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  149 

He  cocked  the  weapon  and  held  it  towards  her. 

**  May  God  forgive  you  ! "  she  said,  pressing  her  hands 
forcibly  against  her  eyes. 

''D n  !"  muttered  the  man;  and,  turning  aside  from 

her,  he  uncocked  the  pistol  and  replaced  it  in  his  pocket.  "  I 
am  a  villain,"  he  said,  "  steeped  in  guilt  and  wretchedness, 
but  not  wicked  enough  to  do  you  any  harm  !  I  only  wished 
to  terrify  you  into  my  measures.  She  hears  me  not — she  is 
gone  !     Great  God  !  what  a  wretch  am  I  become  ! " 

As  he  spoke,  she  recovered  herself  from  an  agony  which 
partook  of  the  bitterness  of  death  ;  and  in  a  minute  or  two, 
through  the  strong  exertion  of  her  natural  sense  and  courage, 
collected  herself  sufficiently  to  understand  he  intended  her  no 
personal  injury. 

"  No  ! "  he  repeated  ;  "  I  would  not  add  to  the  murder  of 
your  sister,  and  of  her  child,  that  of  any  one  belonging  to  her  ! 
Mad,  frantic,  as  I  am,  and  unrestrained  by  either  fear  or 
mercy,  given  up  to  the  possession  of  an  evil  being,  and  forsaken 
by  all  that  is  good.  I  would  not  hurt  you,  were  the  world  of- 
fered me  for  a  bribe  !  But,  for  the  sake  of  all  that  is  dear  to 
you,  swear  you  will  follow  my  counsel.  Take  this  weapon, 
shoot  me  througli  the  head,  and  with  your  own  hand  revenge 
your  sister's  wrong,  only  follow  the  course — the  only  course, 
by  whicli  her  life  can  be  saved." 

"'  Alas  !  is  she  innocent  or  guilty  ?  " 

*'Sheis  guiltless — guiltless  of  everything  but  of  having 
trusted  a  villain  !  Yet,  had  it  not  been  for  those  that  were 
worse  than  I  am — yes,  worse  than  I  am,  though  I  am  bad  in- 
deed— this  misery  had  not  befallen." 

•"And  my  sister's  child — does  it  live  ?"  said  Jeanie. 

"■  No  ;  it  was  murdered — the  new-born  infant  was  barba- 
rously murdered,"  he  uttered  in  a  low  yet  stern  and  sustained 
voice  ;  "but,"  he  added,  hastily,  "not  by  her  knowledge  or 
consent." 

"  Then  why  cannot  the  guilty  be  brought  to  justice,  and 
the  innocent  freed  ?  " 

"  Torment  me  not  with  questions  which  can  serve  no  pur- 
pose," he  sternly  replied.  "  The  deed  was  done  by  those  who 
are  far  enough  from  pursuit,  and  safe  enough  from  discovery  ! 
No  one  can  save  Effie  but  yourself." 

"  Woe's  me  !  how  is  it  in  my  power  ?  "  asked  Jeanie,  in 
despondency. 

"  Hearken  to  me  !  You  have  sense — you  oan  apprehend 
my  meaning — I  will  trust  you.  Your  sister  is  innocent  of  the 
crime  charged  against  her " 


150  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

"  Thank  (rod  for  that ! "  said  Jeanie. 

"  Be  still  and  hearken  !  The  person  who  assisted  her  in 
her  illness  murdered  the  child  ;  )but  it  was  without  the  mother's 
knowledge  or  consent.  She  is  therefore  guiltless — as  guilt- 
less as  the  unhappy  innocent  that  but  gasped  a  few  minutes 
in  this  unhappy  world  ;  the  better  was  its  hap  to  be  so  soon 
at  rest.  She  is  innocent  as  that  infant,  and  yet  she  must  die  ; 
it  is  impossible  to  clear  her  of  the  law  ! " 

"  Cannot  the  wretches  be  discovered  and  given  np  to  pun- 
ishment ?  "  said  Jeanie. 

"^  Do  you  think  you  will  persuade  those  who  are  hardened 
in  guilt  to  die  to  save  another  ?  Is  that  the  reed  you  would 
lean  to?" 

"  But  you  said  there  was  a  remedy/'  again  gasped  out  the 
terrified  young  woman. 

"  There  is,"  answered  the  stranger,  "  and  it  is  in  yonr 
own  hands.  The  blow  which  the  law  aims  cannot  be  broken 
by  directly  encountering  it,  but  it  may  be  turned  aside.  You 
saw  your  sister  during  the  period  preceding  the  birth  of  her 
child  ;  what  is  so  natural  as  that  she  should  have  mentioned 
her  condition  to  you  ?  The  doing  so  would,  as  their  cant 
goes,  take  the  case  from  under  the  statute,  for  it  removes  the 
quality  of  concealment.  I  know  their  jargon,  and  have  had  sad 
cause  to  know  it ;  and  the  quality  of  concealment  is  essential 
to  this  statutory  offence.  Nothing  is  so  natural  as  that  Effie 
should  have  mentioned  her  condition  to  yon  ;  think — reflect — 
I  am  positive  that  she  did." 

"  Woe's  me  !  "  said  Jeanie,  "  she  never  spoke  to  me  on  the 
subject,  but  grat  sorely  when  I  spoke  to  her  about  her  altered 
looks  and  the  change  on  her  spirits." 

"You  asked  her  questions  on  the  subject?"  he  said, 
eagerly.  '''You  must  remember  her  answer  was  a  confession 
that  she  had  been  ruined  by  a  villain — yes,  lay  a  strong  em- 
phasis on  that — a  cruel  false  villain  call  it — any  other  name 
is  unnecessary  ;  and  that  she  bore  under  her  bosom  the  con- 
sequences of  his  guilt  and  her  folly  ;  and  that  he  had  assured 
her  he  would  provide  safely  for  her  approaching  illness.  "Well 
he  kept  his  word  ! "  These  last  words  he  spoke  as  it  were  to 
himself,  and  with  a  violent  gesture  of  self-accusation,  and 
then  calmly  proceeded,  "  You  will  remember  all  this  ?  That 
is  all  that  is  necessary  to  be  said." 

"  But  I  cannot  remember,"  answered  Jeanie,  with  sim- 
plicity, ''that  which  Effie  never  told  me." 

"  Are  you  so  dull — so  very  dull  of  apprehension  ?  "  he  ex- 
claimed, suddenly  grasping  her  arm,  and  holding  it  firm  in 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  IK 

his  hand.  "  I  tell  you  [speaking  between  his  teeth,  and  under 
his  breath,  but  with  great  energy],  you  miist  remember  that 
she  told  YOU  all  this,  whether  she  ever  said  a  syllable  of  it  or 
no.  You  must  repeat  this  tale,  in  which  there  is  no  falsehood, 
except  insofar  as  it  was  not  told  to  you.  before  these  Justices 
— Justiciary — whatever  they  call  their  bloodthirsty  court,  and 
save  your  sister  from  being  murdered,  and  them  from  becom- 
ing murderers.  Do  not  hesitate  ;  I  pledge  life  and  salvation, 
that  in  saying  what  I  have  said,  you  will  only  speak  the  sim- 
ple truth." 

"  But,"  replied  Jeanie,  whose  Judgment  was  too  accurate 
not  to  see  the  sophistry  of  this  argument,  "  I  shall  be  man- 
sworn  in  the  very  thing  in  which  my  testimony  is  wanted,  for 
it  is  the  concealment  for  which  poor  Effie  is  blamed,  and  you 
would  make  me  tell  a  falsehood  anent  it." 

''  I  see,"  he  said,  "  my  first  suspicions  of  you  were  right, 
and  that  you  will  let  your  sister,  innocent,  fair,  and  guiltless, 
except  in  trusting  a  villain,  die  the  death  of  a  murderess, 
rather  than  bestow  the  breath  of  your  mouth  and  the  sound 
of  your  voice  to  save  her." 

''  I  wad  ware  the  best  blood  in  my  body  to  keep  her  skaith- 
less,"  said  Jeanie,  weeping  in  bitter  agony  ;  "  but  I  canna 
change  right  into  wrang,  or  make  that  true  which  is  false." 

"Foolish,  hard-hearted  girl," said  the  stranger,  "are  you 
afraid  of  what  they  may  do  to  you  ?  I  tell  you,  even  the  re- 
tainers of  the  law,  who  course  life  as  greyhounds  do  hares, 
will  rejoice  at  the  escape  of  a  creature  so  young — so  beautiful ; 
that  they  will  not  suspect  your  tale ;  that,  if  they  did  suspect 
it,  they  would  consider  you  as  deserving,  not  only  of  forgive- 
ness, but  of  praise  for  your  natural  affection." 

"  It  is  not  man  I  fear,"  said  Jeanie,  looking  upward  ;  "  the 
God,  whose  name  I  must  call  on  to  witness  the  truth  of  what 
I  say.  He  will  know  the  falsehood." 

"  And  He  will  know  the  motive,"  said  the  stranger,  eager- 
ly; "He  will  know  that  you  are  doing  this,  not  for  lucre  of  gain, 
but  to  save  the  life  of  the  innocent  and  prevent  the  commission 
of  a  worse  crime  than  that  which  the  law  seeks  to  avenge." 

"  He  has  given  us  a  law,"  said  Jeanie,  "  for  the  lamp  of 
our  path  ;  if  we  stray  from  it  we  err  against  knowledge.  I 
may  not  do  evil,  even  that  good  may  come  out  of  it.  But 
you — you  that  ken  all  this  to  be  true,  which  I  must  take  on 
your  word — you  that,  if  I  understood  what  you  said  e'en  now, 
promised  her  shelter  and  protection  in  her  travail,  why  do  not 
yo7(  step  forward  and  bear  leal  and  soothfast  evidence  in  her 
behalf,  as  ye  may  with  a  clear  conscience  ?  " 


152  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

"Ilo  whom  do  yoti  talk  of  a  clear  conscience,  woman  ?** 
said  he,  with  a  sudden  fierceness  which  renewed  her  terrors — 
"  to  me?  I  have  not  known  one  for  many  a  year.  Bear  wit- 
ness in  her  behalf  ? — a  proper  witness,  that  even  to  speak  these 
few  words  to  a  woman  of  so  little  consequence  as  yourself, 
must  choose  such  an  hour  and  such  a  place  as  this.  When 
you  see  owls  and  bats  fly  abroad,  like  larks,  in  the  sunshine, 
you  may  expect  to  see  such  as  I  am  in  the  assemblies  of  men. 
Hush  !  listen  to  that." 

A  voice  was  heard  to  sing  one  of  those  wild  and  monoto- 
nous strains  so  common  in  Scotland,  and  to  which  the  natives 
of  that  country  chant  their  old  ballads.  The  sound  ceased, 
then  came  nearer  and  was  renewed  ;  the  stranger  listened  at- 
tentively, still  holding  Jeanie  by  the  arm  (as  she  stood  by  him 
in  motionless  terror),  as  if  to  prevent  her  interrupting  the 
strain  by  speaking  or  stirring.  When  the  sounds  were  renewed, 
the  words  were  distinctly  audible  : 

"  When  the  glede's  in  the  blue  cloud, 
The  lavrock  lies  still  ; 
When  the  hound's  in  the  green-wood, 
The  hind  keeps  the  hill." 

The  person  who  sung  kept  a  strained  and  powerful  voice  at 
its  highest  pitch,  so  that  it  could  be  heard  at  a  very  consider- 
able distance.  As  the  song  ceased,  they  might  hear  a  stifled 
sound,  as  of  steps  and  whispers  of  jjersons  approaching  tliem. 
The  song  was  again  raised,  but  the  tune  was  changed : 

"  O  sleep  ye  sound,  Sir  James,  she  said, 
When  ye  suld  rise  and  ride  ? 
There's  twenty  men,  wi'  bow  and  blade, 
Are  seeking  where  ye  hide."' 

''I  dare  stay  no  longer,"  said  the  stranger.  "Return 
home,  or  remain  till  they  come  up,  you  have  nothing  to  fear  ; 
but  do  not  tell  you  saw  me  :  your  sister's  fate  is  in  your 
hands."  So  saying,  he  turned  from  her,  and  with  a  swift 
yet  cautiously  noiseless  step  plunged  into  the  darkness  on  the 
side  most  remote  from  the  sounds  which  they  heard  approach- 
ing, and  was  soon  lost  to  her  sight.  Jeanie  remained  by  the 
cairn  terrified  beyond  expression,  and  uncertain  whether  she 
ought  to  fly  homeward  with  all  tlie  speed  she  could  exert,  or 
wait  the  approach  of  those  who  were  advancing  towards  her. 
This  uncertainty  detained  her  so  long  that  she  now  distinctly 
saw  two  or  three  figures  already  so  near  to  her  that  a  precipi- 
tate flight  would  have  been  equally  fruitless  and  impolitic. 


CHAPTEE  XVI 

She  speaks  things  in  doubt, 
That  carry  but  half  sense  :  her  speech  is  nothing, 
Yet  the  unshaped  use  of  it  doth  move 
The  hearers  to  collection  ;  they  aim  at  it, 
And  botch  the  words  up  to  fit  their  own  thoughts. 

Hamlet. 

Like  the  digressive  poet  Ariosto,  I  find  myself  under  the 
necessity  of  connecting  the  branches  of  my  story,  by  taking 
up  the  adventures  of  another  of  the  characters,  and  bringing 
them  down  to  the  point  at  which  we  have  left  those  of  Jeanie 
Deans.  It  is  not,  perhaps,  the  most  artificial  way  of  telling 
a  story,  but  it  has  the  advantage  of  sparing  the  necessity  of 
resuming  what  a  knitter  (if  stocking-looms  have  left  such  a 
person  in  the  land)  might  call  our  "dropped  stitches ;"  a  la- 
bor in  which  the  author  generally  toils  much,  without  getting 
credit  for  his  pains. 

"  I  could  risk  a  sma'  wad,"  said  the  clerk  to  the  magistrate, 
"that  this  rascal  Ratcliffe,  if  he  were  insured  of  his  neck's 
safety,  could  do  more  than  ony  ten  of  our  police-people  and 
constables  to  help  us  to  get  out  of  this  scrape  of  Porteous's. 
He  is  weel  acquent  wi'  a'  the  smugglers,  thieves,  and  banditti 
about  Edinburgh  ;  and,  indeed,  he  may  be  called  the  father 
of  a'  the  misdoers  in  Scotland,  for  he  has  passed  amang  them 
for  these  twenty  years  by  the  name  of  Daddie  Eat." 

"A  bonny  sort  of  a  scoundrel,"  replied  the  magistrate, 
"to  expect  a  place  under  the  city  !" 

"  Begging  your  honor's  pardon,"  said  the  city's  procura- 
tor-fiscal, upon  whom  the  duties  cf  superintendent  of  police 
devolved,  "  Mr.  Fairscrieve  is  perfectly  in  the  right.  It  is  just 
sic  as  Eatcliffe  that  the  town  needs  in  my  department ;  an'  if 
sae  be  that  he's  disposed  to  turn  his  knowledge  to  the  city 
service,  ye'll  no  find  a  better  man.  Ye'll  get  nae  saints  to  be 
searchers  for  uncustomed  goods,  or  for  thieves  and  sic-like  ; 
and  your  decent  sort  of  men,  religious  professors  and  broken 
tradesmen,  that  are  put  into  the  like  o'  sic  trust,  can  do  nae 
gude  ava.  They  are  feared  for  this,  and  they  are  scrupulous 
about  that,  and  they  arena  free  to  tell  a  lie,  though  it  may  be 

153 


164  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

for  the  benefit  of  the  city ;  and  they  dinna  like  to  be  out  at 
irregular  hours,  and  in  a  dark  cauld  night,  and  they  like  a 
clout  ower  the  croun  far  waur :  and  sae  between  the  fear  o^ 
God,  and  the  fear  o'  man,  and  the  fear  o'  getting  a  sair  throat, 
or  sair  banes,  there's  a  dozen  o'  our  city-folk,  baith  waiters, 
and  officers,  and  constables,  that  can  find  out  naething  but  a 
wee  bit  sculduddery  for  the  benefit  of  the  kirk-treasurer. 
Jock  Porteous,  that's  stiff  and  stark,  puir  fallow,  was  worth 
a  dozen  o'  them  ;  for  he  never  had  ony  fears,  or  scruples,  or 
doubts,  or  conscience,  about  onything  your  honors  bade  him." 

"  He  was  a  gude  servant  o'  the  town,"  said  the  bailie, 
"  though  he  was  an  ower  free-living  man.  But  if  you  really 
think  this  rascal  Ratcliife  could  do  us  ony  service  in  discover- 
ing these  malefactors,  I  would  insure  him  life,  reward,  and 
promotion.  It's  an  awsome  thing  this  mischance  for  the 
city,  Mr.  Fairscrieve.  It  will  be  very  ill  taen  wi'  abune  stairs. 
Queen  Caroline,  God  bless  her  !  is  a  woman — at  least  I  judge 
sae,  and  it's  nae  treason  to  speak  my  mind  sae  far — and  ye 
maybe  ken  as  weel  as  I  do,  for  ye  hae  a  housekeeper,  though 
ye  arena  a  married  man,  that  women  are  wilf  u',  and  downa 
bide  a  slight.  And  it  will  sound  ill  in  her  ears  that  sic  a 
confused  mistake  sulci  come  to  pass,  and  naebody  sae  muckle 
as  to  be  put  into  the  tolbooth  about  it." 

"  If  ye  thought  that,  sir,"  said  the  procurator-fiscal,  "we 
could  easily  clap  into  the  prison  a  few  blackguards  upon  sus- 
picion. It  will  have  a  gude  active  look,  and  I  hae  aye  plenty 
on  my  list,  that  wadna  be  a  hair  the  waur  of  a  week  or  twa's 
imprisonment ;  and  if  ye  thought  it  no  strictly  just,  ye  could 
be  just  the  easier  wi'  them  the  neist  time  they  did  onything 
to  deserve  it ;  they  arena  the  sort  to  be  lang  o'  gieing  ye  an 
opportunity  to  clear  scores  wi'  them  on  that  account." 

"  I  doubt  that  will  hardly  do  in  this  case,  Mr.  Sharpit- 
law,"  returned  the  town  clerk;  "they'll  run  their  letters,* 
and  be  adrift  again,  before  ye  ken  where  ye  are." 

"I  will  speak  to  the  Lord  Provost,"  said  the  magistrate, 
"about  Ratcliffe's  business.  Mr.  Sharpitlaw,  you  will  go 
with  me  and  receive  instructions.  Something  may  be  made 
too  out  of  this  story  of  Butler's  and  his  unknown  gentleman. 
I  know  no  business  any  man  has  to  swagger  about  in  the 
King's  Park,  and  call  himself  the  devil,  to  the  terror  of  hon- 
est folks,  who  dinna  care  to  hear  mair  about  the  devil  than  is 
said  from  the  pulpit  on  the  Sabbath.  I  cannot  think  the 
preacher  himsell  wad  be  heading  the  mob,  though  the  time 

*  A  Scottish  form  of  procedure,  answering,  in  some  respects,  to  the  English 
Habeas  Corpus. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  15& 

has  been  tliey  hae  been  as  forward  in  a  bruilzie  as  theii 
neighbors." 

"But  these  times  are  lang  bye/'  said  Mr.  Sharpitlaw. 
"  In  my  father's  time  there  was  mair  search  for  silenced  min- 
isters about  the  Bow-head  and  the  Covenant  Close,  and  all 
the  tents  of  Kedar,  as  they  ca'd  the  dwellings  o'  the  godly  in 
those  days,  than  there's  now  for  thieves  and  vagabonds  in  the 
Laigh  Calton  and  the  back  o'  the  Canongate.  But  that 
time's  weel  bye,  an  it  bide.  And  if  the  bailie  will  get  me 
directions  and  authority  from  the  provost,  I'll  speak  wi' 
Daddie  Eat  mysell ;  for  I'm  thinking  I'll  make  mair  out  o' 
him  than  ye'll  do." 

Mr.  Sharpitlaw,  being  necessarily  a  man  of  high  trust,  was 
accordingly  empowered,  in  the  course  of  the  day,  to  make  such 
arrangements  as  might  seem  in  the  emergency  most  advan- 
tageous for  the  Good  Town.  He  went  to  the  jail  accordingly, 
and  saw  Eatcliffe  in  private. 

The  relative  positions  of  a  police-officer  and  a  professed 
thief  bear  a  different  complexion  according  to  circumstances. 
The  most  obvious  simile  of  a  hawk  pouncing  upon  his  prey  is 
often  least  applicable.  Sometimes  the  guardian  of  justice  has 
the  air  of  a  cat  watching  a  mouse,  and,  while  he  suspends  his 
purpose  of  springing  upon  the  pilferer,  takes  care  so  to  calcu- 
late his  motions  that  he  shall  not  get  beyond  his  power. 
Sometimes,  more  passive  still,  he  uses  the  art  of  fascination 
ascribed  to  the  rattlesnake,  and  contents  himself  with  glaring 
on  the  victim  through  all  his  devious  flutterings  ;  certain  that 
his  terror,  confusion,  and  disorder  of  ideas  will  bring  him 
into  his  jaws  at  last.  The  interview  between  Eatcliffe  and 
Sharpitlaw  had  an  aspect  different  from  all  these.  They  sat 
for  five  minutes  silent,  on  opposite  sides  of  a  small  table,  and 
looked  fixedly  at  each  other,  with  a  sharp,  knowing,  and  alert 
cast  of  countenance,  not  unmingled  with  an  inclination  to 
laugh,  and  resembled  more  than  anything  else  two  dogs  who, 
preparing  for  a  game  at  romps,  are  seen  to  couch  down  and 
remain  in  that  posture  for  a  little  time,  watching  each  other's 
movements,  and  waiting  which  shall  begin  the  game. 

''So,  Mr.  Eatcliffe,"  said  the  officer,  conceiving  it  suited 
his  dignity  to  speak  first,  '"'you  give  up  business,  I  find  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir,"  replied  Eatcliffe  ;  "  I  shall  be  on  that  lay  nae 
mair  ;  and  I  think  that  will  save  your  folk  some  trouble,  Mr. 
Sharpitlaw?" 

"  Which  Jock  Dalgleish  *  [then  finisher  of  the  law  in  the 
Scottish  metropolis]  wad  save  them  as  easily,"  returned  the 
procurator-fiscal. 

*  See  Note  81. 


18«  WAVE  RLE  Y  NOVELS 

'•  Ay ;  if  I  waited  in  the  tolbooth  here  to  have  him  fit  my 
cravat  ;  but  that's  an  idle  way  o'  speaking,  Mr.  Sliarpitlaw." 

"  Why,  I  suppose  you  know  you  are  under  sentence  of 
death,  Mr.  Ratcliife  ? "  replied  Mr.  Sharpitlaw. 

"  Ay,  so  are  a',  as  that  worthy  minister  said  in  the  Tol- 
booth Kirk  the  day  Robertson  wan  off  ;  but  naebody  kens  when 
it  will  be  executed.  Gude  faith,  he  had  better  reason  to  say 
sae  than  he  dreamed  of,  before  the  play  was  played  out  that 
morning  ! " 

^*^This  Robertson,"  said  Sharpitlaw,  in  a  lower  and  some- 
thing like  a  confidential  tone,  "d'ye  ken.  Rat — that  is,  can 
ye  gie  us  ony  inkling  where  he  is  to  be  heard  tell  o'  ?  " 

"  Troth,  Mr.  Sharpitlaw,  I'll  be  frank  wi'  ye  :  Robertson 
is  rather  a  cut  abune  me.  A  wild  deevil  he  was,  and  niony  a 
daft  prank  he  played  ;  but,  except  the  collector's  job  that  Wil- 
son led  him  into,  and  some  tuilzies  about  run  goods  wi'  the 
gangers  and  the  waiters,  he  never  did  onything  that  came 
near  our  line  o'  business." 

"  Umph  !  that's  singular,  considering  the  company  he 
kept." 

"  Fact,  upon  my  honor  and  credit,"  said  Ratcliffe,  gravely. 
"  He  keepit  out  o'  our  little  bits  of  affairs,  and  that's  mair  than 
Wilson  did  ;  I  liae  dune  business  wi'  Wilson  afore  now.  But 
the  lad  will  come  on  in  time,  there's  nae  fear  o'  him  ;  naebody 
will  live  the  life  he  has  led  but  what  he'll  come  to  sooner  or 
later." 

"  Who  or  what  is  he,  Ratcliffe  ?  you  know,  I  suppose  ?" 
said  Sharpitlaw. 

"  He's  better  born,  I  judge,  than  he  cares  to  let  on  ;  he's 
been  a  soldier,  and  he  has  been  a  play-actor,  and  I  watna  what 
he  has  been  or  hasna  been,  for  as  young  as  he  is,  sae  that  it 
had  daffing  and  nonsense  about  it." 

^'  Pretty  pranks  he  has  played  in  his  time,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  Ye  may  say  that,"  said  Ratcliffe,  with  a  sardonic  smile  ; 
"  and  [touching  his  nose]  a  deevil  amang  the  lasses." 

"  Like  enough,"  said  Sharpitlaw.  "  Weel,  Ratcliffe,  I'll 
no  stand  niffering  wi'  ye  :  ye  ken  the  way  that  favor's  gotten 
in  my  office  ;  ye  maun  be  usefu'." 

"  Certainly,  sir,  to  the  best  of  my  power  :  naething  fornae- 
thing — I  ken  the  rule  of  the  office,"  said  the  ex-depredator. 

"^'Now  the  principal  thing  in  hand  e'en  now,"  said  the  of- 
ficial person,  "  is  this  job  of  Porteous's.  An  ye  can  gie  us  a 
lift — why,  the  inner  turnkey's  ofl&ce  to  begin  wi',  and  the  cap- 
tainship in  time  ;  ye  understand  my  meaning  ?  " 

**  Ay,  troth  do  I^  sir ;  a  wink's  as  gude  as  a  nod  to  a  blmd 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  157 

horse.  But  Jock  Porteous's  job — Lord  lielpye  ! — I  was  under 
sentence  the  haill  time.  God  !  but  I  couldna  help  laughing 
when  I  heard  Jock  skirling  for  mercy  in  the  lads'  hands ! 
'  Mony  a  het  skin  ye  hae  gien  me,  neighbor/  thought  I,  *tak 
ye  what's  gaun  :  time  about's  fair  play ;  ye'll  ken  now  what 
hanging's  gude  for.'  " 

"  Come,  come,  this  is  all  nonsense.  Eat,"  said  the  procura- 
tor. "  Ye  canna  creep  out  at  that  hole,  lad  ;  you  must  speak 
to  the  point,  you  understand  me,  if  you  want  favor  ;  gif-gaf 
makes  gude  friends,  ye  ken." 

"  But  how  can  I  speak  to  the  point,  as  your  honor  ca's  it," 
said  Eatcliffe,  demurely,  and  with  an  air  of  great  simplicity, 
"  when  ye  ken  I  was  under  sentence,  and  in  the  strong-room 
a'  the  while  the  job  was  going  on  ?  " 

"  And  how  can  we  turn  ye  loose  on  the  public  again,  Daddie 
Eat,  unless  ye  do  or  say  something  to  deserve  it  ?" 

"  Well,  then,  d — u  it !"  answered  the  criminal,  "since  it 
maun  be  sae,  I  saw  Geordie  Eobertson  among  the  boys  that 
brake  the  jail ;  I  suppose  that  will  do  me  some  gude  ?  " 

"That's  speaking  to  the  purpose,  indeed,"  said  the  office- 
bearer ;  "and  now.  Eat,  where  think  ye  we'll  find  him  ?" 

"  Deil  haet  o'  me  kens,"  said  EatclifPe  ;  "  he'll  no  likely 
gang  back  to  ony  o'  his  auld  howffs  ;  he'll  be  oft'  the  country 
by  this  time.  He  has  gude  friends  some  gate  or  other,  for  a' 
the  life  he's  led  ;  he's  been  weel  educate." 

"  He'll  grace  the  gallows  the  better,"  said  Mr.  Sharpitlaw ; 
'''  a  desperate  dog,  to  murder  an  officer  of  the  city  for  doing 
his  duty  !  wha  kens  wha's  turn  it  might  be  next  ?  But  you  saw 
him  plainly  ?  " 

"  As  plainly  as  I  see  you." 

"How  was  he  dressed  ?"  said  Sharpitlaw. 

"  I  couldna  weel  see  ;  something  of  a  woman's  bit  mutch  on 
his  head  ;  but  ye  never  saw  sic  a  ca'-throw.  Ane  couldna  hae 
een  to  a'thing." 

"But  did  he  speak  to  no  one  ?"  said  Sharpitlaw. 

"  They  were  a'  speaking  and  gabbling  through  other,"  said 
Eatcliffe,  who  was  obviously  unwilling  to  carry  his  evidence 
further  than  he  could  possibly  help. 

"This  will  not  do,  Eatcliffe,"  said  the  procurator  ;  "  yon 
must  speak  out — out — out,"  tapping  the  table  emphatically,  as 
he  repeated  that  impressive  monosyllable. 

"It's  very  hard,  sir,"  said  the  prisoner  ;  "and but  for  the 
under  turnkey's  place " 

"  And  the  reversion  of  the  captaincy — the  captaincy  of  the 
tolbooth,  man — that  is,  in  case  of  gude  behavior." 


158  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

''Ay,  ay,"  said  Ratcliffe,  "gnde  behavior!  there's  the 
deevil.  And  then  it's  waiting  for  dead  folks'  shoon  into  the 
bargain." 

"  But  Robertson's  head  will  weigh  something,"  said  Sharp- 
itlaw — "  something  gay  and  heavy.  Rat ;  the  town  maun  show 
cause — that's  right  and  reason — and  then  ye'll  hae  freedom  to 
enjoy  your  gear  honestly." 

"  I  dinna  ken,"  said  Ratcliffe  ;  "  it's  a  queer  way  of  be- 
ginning the  trade  of  honesty — butdeil  ma  care.  Weel,  then, 
I  heard  and  saw  him  speak  to  the  wench  EflBe  Deans,  thaf  s 
up  there  for  child-murder." 

"  The  deil  ye  did  ?  Rat,  this  is  finding  a  mare's  nest  wi'' 
a  witness.  And  the  man  that  spoke  to  Butler  in  the  Park, 
and  that  was  to  meet  wi'  Jeanie  Deans  at  Muschat's  Cairn — 
whew  !  lay  that  and  that  thegither  !  As  sure  as  I  live  he's 
been  the  father  of  the  lassie's  wean." 

"  There  hae  been  waur  guesses  than  that,  I'm  thinking," 
observed  Ratcliffe,  turning  his  quid  of  tobacco  in  his  cheek 
and  squirting  out  the  juice.  "I  heard  something  a  while 
syne  about  his  drawing  uji  wi' a  bonny  quean  about  the  Pleas- 
annts,  and  that  it  was  a'  Wilson  could  do  to  keep  him  frae 
marrying  her." 

Here  a  city  officer  entered,  and  told  Sharpitlaw  that  they 
had  the  woman  in  custody  whom  he  had  directed  them  to 
bring  before  him. 

"  It's  little  matter  now,"  said  he,  "  the  thing  is  taking 
another  turn  ;  however,  George,  ye  may  bring  her  in." 

The  officer  retired,  and  introduced,  ujjon  his  return,  a  tall, 
strapping  wench  of  eighteen  or  twenty,  dressed  fantastically, 
in  a  sort  of  blue  riding-jacket,  Avith  tarnished  lace,  her  hair 
dabbed  like  that  of  a  man,  a  Highland  bonnet,  and  a  bunch 
of  broken  feathers,  a  riding-skirt  (or  petticoat)  of  scarlet  cam- 
let, embroidered  with  tarnished  flowers.  Her  features  were 
coarse  and  masculine,  yet  at  a  little  distance,  by  dint  of  very 
bright  wild-looking  black  eyes,  an  aquiline  nose,  and  a  com- 
manding profile,  appeared  rather  handsome.  She  flourished 
the  switcli  she  held  in  her  hand,  dropped  a  courtesy  as  low 
as  a  lady  at  a  birthnight  introduction,  recovered  herself  seem- 
ingly according  to  Touchstone's  directions  to  Audrey,  and 
opened  the  conversation  without  waiting  till  any  questions 
were  asked. 

''  God  gie  your  honor  gude-e'en,  and  mony  o'  them,  bonny 
Mr.  Sharpitlaw  !  Gude  e'en  to  ye,  Daddie  Ratton ;  they 
tauld  me  ye  were  hanged,  man ;  or  did  ye  get  out  o'  John 
Dalgleish's  hands  like  half-hangit  Maggie  Dicifson  ?" 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  159 

*' Whisht,  ye  daft  jaud/'  said  Ratcliffe,  '^'^and  hear  what's 
said  to  ye." 

"  Wi'  a'  my  heart,  Ratton.  Great  preferment  for  poor 
Madge  to  be  brought  up  the  street  wi'  a  grand  man,  wi'  a  coat 
a'  passemented  wi'  worset-lace,  to  speak  wi'  provosts,  and  bai- 
lies, and  town  clerks,  and  prokitors,  at  this  time  o'  day  ;  and 
the  haill  town  looking  at  me  too.  This  is  honor  on  earth  for 
anes  ! " 

''Ay,  Madge,"  said  Mr.  Sharpitlaw,  in  a  coaxing  tone; 
"  and  ye're  dressed  out  in  your  braws,  I  see ;  these  are  not 
your  every-day's  claiths  ye  have  on  ?  " 

"  Deil  be  in  my  fingers,  then  ! "  said  Madge.  ''  Eh,  sirs  ! 
[observing  Butler  come  into  the  apartment],  there's  a  minis- 
ter in  the  tolbooth  ;  vvha  will  ca'  it  a  graceless  place  now  ? 
I'se  warrant  he's  in  for  the  gude  auld  cause ;  but  it's  be  nae 
cause  o'  mine,"  and  off  she  went  into  a  song  : 

"  Hey  for  cavaliers,  ho  for  cavaliers, 
Dub  a  dub,  dub  a  dub  ; 
Have  at  old  Beelzebub, — 
Oliver's  squeaking  for  fear." 

"  Did  you  ever  see  that  madwoman  before  ?  "  said  Sharp- 
itlaw to  Butler. 

"  Not  to  my  knowledge,  sir,"  replied  Butler. 

"  I  thought  as  much,"  said  the  procurator-fiscal,  looking 
towards  Ratcliffe,  who  answered  his  glance  with  a  nod  of  ac- 
quiescence and  intelligence. 

*'  But  that  is  Madge  Wildfire,  as  she  calls  herself,"  said 
the  man  of  law  to  Butler. 

"  Ay,  that  I  am,"  said  Madge,  "  and  that  I  have  been 
ever  since  I  was  something  better — heigh  ho  !  [and  something 
like  melancholy  dwelt  on  her  features  for  a  minute].  But  I 
canna  mind  when  that  was ;  it  was  lang  syne,  at  ony  rate,  and 
I'll  ne'er  fash  my  thumb  about  it  : 

' '  I  glance  like  the  wildfire  through  country  and  town  ; 
I'm  seen  on  the  causeway — I'm  seen  on  the  down  ; 
The  lightning  that  flashes  so  bright  and  so  free, 
Is  scarcely  so  blithe  or  so  bonny  as  me." 

"  Hand  your  tongue,  ye  skirling  limmer  ! "  said  the  officer 
who  had  acted  asmasterof  the  ceremonies  to  this  extraordinary 
performer,  and  who  was  rather  scandalized  at  the  freedom  of 
her  demeanor  before  a  person  of  Mr.  Sharpitlaw's  importance 
— *'  hand  your  tongue,  or  I'se  gie  ye  something  to  skirl  for  ! " 

''Let  her  alone,  George,"  said  Sharpitlaw,  "dinna  put 


160  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

her  out  o'  tune  ;  I  liae  some  questions  to  ask  her.  But  first, 
Mr.  Butler,  take  another  look  of  her." 

"  Do  sae,  minister — do  sae,"  cried  Madge  ;  "  I  am  as  weel 
worth  looking  at  as  ony  book  in  your  aught.  And  I  can  say 
the  Single  Carritch,  and  the  Double  Carritcli,  and  justifica- 
tion, and  effectual  calling,  and  the  Assembly  of  Divines  at 
Westminster — that  is,"  she  added  in  a  low  tone,  *'  I  could  say 
them  anes  ;  but  it's  langsyne,  and  aneforgets,  yeken."  And 
poor  Madge  heaved  another  deep  sigh. 

"Weel,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Sharpitlaw  to  Butler,  "what  think 
ye  now  ?  " 

"As  I  did  before,"  said  Butler;  "that  I  never  saw  the 
poor  demented  creature  in  my  life  before." 

"  Then  she  is  not  the  person  whom  you  said  the  rioters 
last  night  described  as  Madge  Wildfire  ?" 

"  Certainly  not,"  said  Butler.  "  They  may  be  near  the 
same  height,  for  they  are  both  tall ;  but  I  see  little  other  re- 
semblance." 

"  Their  dress,  then,  is  not  alike  ?  "  said  Sharpitlaw. 

"Not  in  the  least,"  said  Butler. 

"  Madge,  my  bonny  woman,"  said  Sharpitlaw,  in  the  same 
coaxing  manner,  "what  did  ye  do  wi' your  ilka-day's  claise 
yesterday  ?  " 

"  I  diuna  mind,"  said  Madge. 

"  Where  was  ye  yesterday  at  e'en,  Madge  ?  " 

"  I  dinna  mind  onything  about  yesterday,"  answered 
Madge  ;  "ae  day  is  eneugh  for  onybody  to  wun  ower  wi'  at 
a  time,  and  ower  muckle  sometimes." 

"  But  maybe,  Madge,  ye  wad  mind  something  about  it  if 
I  was  to  gie  ye  this  half-crown  ?  "  said  Sharpitlaw,  taking  out 
the  piece  of  money. 

"  That  might  gar  me  laugh,  but  it  couldna  gar  me 
mind." 

"But,  Madge,"  continued  Sharpitlaw,  "were  I  to  send 
you  to  the  warkhouse  in  Leith  Wynd,  and  gar  Jock  Dalgieish 
lay  the  tawse  on  your  back " 

"  That  wad  gar  me  greet,"  said  Madge,  sobbing,  "  but  it 
couldna  gar  me  mind,  ye  ken." 

"  She  is  ower  far  past  reasonable  folks'  motives,  sir,"  said 
Eatcliffe,  "  to  mind  siller,  or  John  Dalgieish,  or  the  cat  and 
nine  tails  either  ;  but  I  think  I  could  gar  her  tell  us  some- 
thing." 

"Try  her,  then,  Eatcliffe,"  said  Sharpitlaw,  "for  I  ani^ 
tired  of  her  crazy  prate,  and  be  d — d  to  her." 

"Madge,"  said  Eatcliffe,  '-  hae  ye  ony  joes  now  ?" 


THE  HEART  OF  .MIDLOTHIAN-  161 

"An  onybody  ask  ye,  say  ye  dinna  ken.  Set  him  to  be 
speaking  of  my  joes,  auld  Daddie  Ratton  I" 

"  I  dare  say  ye  hae  deil  ane  ?  " 

''  See  if  1  liaena,  then,"  said  Madge,  with  the  toss  of  the 
head  of  affronted  beauty  ;  ''  there's  Eob  the  Ranter,  and  Will 
Fleming,  and  then  tliere's  Geaixlie  Robertson,  lad — that's 
Gentleman  Geordie  ;  wliat  think  ye  o'  that  ?  " 

Ratclift'e  laughed,  and,  winking  to  tlie  procurator-fiscal, 
pursued  the  inquiry  in  his  own  way.  "'But,  Madge,  the  lads 
only  like  ye  when  ye  hae  on  your  braws  ;  they  wadna  touch 
you  wi'  a  pair  o'  tangs  when  you  are  in  your  auld  ilka-day 
rags. '/ 

"  Ye're  a  leeing  auld  sorrow,  then,"  replied  the  fair  one  ; 
"  for  Gentle  Geordie  Robertson  put  my  ilka-day's  claise  on 
his  ain  bonny  sell  yestreen,  and  gaed  a'  through  the  town  wi' 
them ;  and  gawsie  and  grand  he  lookit,  like  ony  queen  in  the 
land." 

"1  dinna  believe  a  word  o't,"  said  Ratcliffe,  with  another 
wink  to  the  procurator.  "  Thae  duds  were  a'  o'  the  color  o' 
moonshine  in  the  water,  I'm  thinking,  Madge.  The  gown 
wad  be  a  sky-blue  scarlet,  I'se  warrant  ye  ?  " 

"  It  was  nae  sic  thing,"  said  Madge,  whose  unretentive 
memory  let  out,  in  the  eagerness  of  contradiction,  all  that  she 
would  have  most  wished  to  keep  concealed,  had  her  judgment 
been  equal  to  her  inclination.  "It  was  neither  scarlet  nor 
sky-blue,  but  my  ain  auld  brown  threshie-coat  of  a  short-gown, 
and  my  mother's  auld  mutch,  and  my  red  rokelay  ;  and  he 
gaed  me  a  croun  and  a  kiss  for  the  use  o'  them,  blessing  on 
his  bonny  face — though  it's  been  a  dear  ane  to  me." 

"And  where  did  he  change  his  clothes  again,  hinny  ?"  said 
Sharpitlaw,  in  his  most  conciliatory  manner. 

"The  procurator's  spoiled  a',"  observed  Ratcliffe,  dryly. 

And  it  was  even  so ;  for  the  question,  put  in  so  direct  a 
shape,  immediately  awakened  Madge  to  the  propriety  of  being 
reserved  upon  those  very  topics  on  which  Ratcliffe  had  indi- 
rectly seduced  her  to  become  communicative. 

"  What  was't  ye  were  speering  at  us,  sir  ?"  she  resumed, 
"^ith  an  appearance  of  stolidity,  so  speedily  assumed  as  showed 
there  was  a  good  deal  of  knavery  mixed  with  her  foiiy. 

"1  asked  you,"  said  the  procurator,  "at  what  hour,  and 
to  what  place,  Robertson  brought  back  your  clothes." 

"Robertson  !     Lord  baud  a  care  o'  us  !  what  Robertson?" 

"  Why,  the  fellow  we  were  speaking  of.  Gentle  Geordie, 
as  you  call  him." 

"  Geordie  Gentle  ! "  answered  Madge,  with  well-feigned 


m  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

amazement.     "  I  dinna  ken  naebody  they  ca'  Geordie  Gen- 
tle." 

''^Come,  my  jo,"  said  Sliarpitlaw,  "this  will  not  do  ;  yon 
must  tell  us  what  you  did  with  these  clothes  of  yours." 

Madge  Wildfire  made  no  answer,  unless  the  question  may 
seem  connected  with  the  snatch  of  a  song  with  which  she  in- 
dulged the  embarrassed  investigator  : 

"  What  did  ye  wi'  the  bridal  ring — bridal  ring — ^bridal  ring? 
What  did  ye  wi'  your  wedding  ring,  ye  little  cutty  quean,  O  ? 
I  gied  it  till  a  sodger,  a  sodger,  a  sodger, 
I  gied  it  till  a  sodger,  an  auld  true  love  o'  mine,  O." 

Of  all  the  madwomen  who  have  sung  and  said,  since  the 
days  of  Hamlet  the  Dane,  if  Ophelia  be  the  most  affecting, 
Madge  Wildfire  was  the  most  provoking. 

The  procurator-fiscal  was  in  despair.  "  I'll  take  some 
measures  with  this  d — d  Bess  of  Bedlam,"  said  he,  "  that 
shall  make  her  find  her  tongue." 

"  Wi'  your  favor,  sir,"  said  Ratcliffe,  "  better  let  her  mind 
settle  a  little.     Ye  have  aye  made  out  something." 

"  True,"  said  the  official  person  ;  "  a  brown  short-gown, 
mutch,  red  rokelay — that  agrees  with  your  Madge  Wildfire, 
Mr.  Butler?"  Butler  agreed  that  it  did  so.  "  Yes,  there 
was  a  sufficient  motive  for  taking  this  crazy  creature's  dress 
and  name,  while  he  was  about  such  a  job." 

' '  And  I  am  free  to  say  now "  said  Ratcliffe. 

"  When  you  see  it  has  come  out  without  you,"  interrupted 
Sharpitlaw. 

''Justsae,  sir," reiterated  Ratcliffe.  "I  'dui  free  to  say 
now,  since  it's  come  out  otherwise,  that  these  Avere  the  clothes 
I  saw  Robertson  wearing  last  night  in  the  jail,  when  he  was 
at  the  head  of  the  rioters." 

"  That's  direct  evidence,"  said  Sharpitlaw  ;  '*  stick  to  that. 
Rat.  I  will  report  favorably  of  you  to  the  provost,  for  I  have 
business  for  you  to-night.  It  wears  late  ;  I  must  home  and 
get  a  snack,  and  I'll  be  back  in  the  evening.  Keep  Madge 
with  you,  Ratcliffe,  and  try  to  get  her  into  a  good  tune  again." 
So  saying,  he  left  the  prison. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

And  some  they  whistled,  and  some  they  sang, 

And  some  did  loudly  say, 
Whenever  Lord  Barnard's  horn  it  blew, 

"Away,  Musgi'ave,  away  ! " 

Ballad  of  Little  Musgrave. 

^V'B.'EN  the  man  of  office  returned  to  the  Heart  of  Midlothian, 
ne  resumed  his  conference  with  Ratcliffe,  of  whose  experience 
ind  assistance  he  now  held  himself  secure.  "  You  must  speak 
with  this  wench,  Rat — this  Effie  Deans — you  must  sift  her 
a  wee  bit ;  for  as  sure  as  a  tether  she  will  ken  Robertson's 
haunts  ;  till  her.  Rat — till  her,  without  delay." 

"  Craving  your  pardon,  Mr.  Sharpitlaw,"  said  the  turnkey- 
elect,  "  that's  what  I  am  not  free  to  do." 

*'  Free  to  do,  man  !  what  the  deil  ails  3^e  now  ?  I  thought 
we  had  settled  a'  that." 

"  I  dinna  ken,  sir,"  said  Ratcliffe  ;  "  I  hae  spoken  to  this 
Effie.  She's  strange  to  this  jDlace  and  to  its  ways,  and  to  a' 
our  ways,  Mr.  Sharpitlaw  ;  and  she  greets,  the  silly  tawpie, 
and  she's  breaking  her  heart  already  about  this  wild  chield  ; 
and  were  she  the  means  o'  taking  him,  she  wad  break  it  out- 
right." 

"  She  wunna  hae  time,  lad,"  said  Sharpitlaw  :  '''the  woodie 
will  hae  its  ain  o'  her  before  that ;  a  woman's  heart  takes  a 
lang  time  o'  breaking." 

"  That's  according  to  the  stuff  they  are  made  o',  sir,"  replied 
Ratcliffe.  "  But  to  make  a  lang  tale  short,  I  canna  undertake 
the  job.     It  gangs  against  my  conscience." 

"  Yoi(7'  conscience.  Rat !"  said  Sharpitlaw,  with  a  sneer, 
which  the  reader  will  probably  think  very  natural  upon  the 
occasion. 

''Ou  ay,  sir,"  answered  Ratcliffe,  calmly,  ''just  w?y  con- 
science ;  a'body  has  a  conscience,  though  it  may  be  ill  wunnin 
at  it.  I  think  mine's  as  weel  out  o'  the  gate  as  maist  folks'  are  ; 
and  yet  it's  just  like  the  noop  of  my  elbow  :  it  whiles  gtits  a  bit 
dirl  on  a  corner." 


164  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

"Weel,  Rat/'  replied  Sharpitlaw,  "since  ye  are  nice,  I'll 
speak  to  the  Imssy  my  sell." 

Sliarpitlaw  accordingly  caused  himself  to  be  introduced 
into  the  little  dark  apartment  tenanted  by  the  unfortunate 
Effie  Deans.  The  poor  girl  was  seated  on  her  little  flock-bed, 
plunged  in  a  deep  reverie.  Some  food  stood  on  the  table,  of 
a  quality  better  than  is  usually  supplied  to  prisoners,  but  it 
was  untouched.  The  person  under  whose  care  she  was  more 
particularly  placed  said,  '*  that  sometimes  she  tasted  nae thing 
from  the  tae  end  of  the  four-and-twenty  hours  to  the  t'other, 
except  a  drink  of  water." 

Sharpitlaw  took  a  chair,  and,  commanding  the  turnkey  to 
retire,  he  opened  the  conversation,  endeavoring  to  throw  into 
his  tone  and  countenance  as  much  commiseration  as  they  were 
capable  of  expressing,  for  the  one  was  sharp  and  harsh,  the 
other  si}'',  acute,  and  selfish. 

''How's  a'  wi'  ye,  Effie?  How  d'ye  find  yoursell, 
hinny  ?  " 

A  deep  sigh  was  the  only  answer. 

"  Are  the  folk  civil  to  ye,  Effie  ?  it's  my  duty  to  inquire." 

"Very  civil,  sir,"  said  Effie,  compelling  herself  to  answer, 
yet  hardly  knowing  what  she  said. 

"  And  your  victuals,"  continued  Sharpitlaw,  in  the  same 
condoling  tone — "do  you  get  what  you  like  ?  or  is  there  ony- 
tliing  you  would  particularly  fancy,  as  your  health  seems  but 
silly?" 

"  It's  a'  very  weel,  sir,  I  thank  ye,"  said  the  poor  prisoner, 
in  a  tone  how  different  from  the  sportive  vivacity  of  those  of 
the  Lily  of  St.  Leonard's  ! — "  it's  a'  very  gude,  ower  gude 
for  me." 

"He  must  have  been  a  great  villain,  Effie,  who  brought 
you  to  this  pass,"  said  Sharpitlaw, 

The  remark  was  dictated  partly  by  a  natural  feeling,  of 
which  even  he  could  not  divest  himself,  though  accustomed 
to  practise  on  the  passions  of  others,  and  keep  a  most  heedful 
guard  over  his  o\vi\,  and  partly  by  his  wish  to  introduce  the 
sort  of  conversaiion  which  might  best  serve  his  immediate 
purpose.  Indeed,  upon  the  present  occasion  these  mixed 
motives  of  feeling  and  cunning  harmonized  together  won- 
derfully ;  "for,"  said  SharpitlaAV  to  himself,  "the  greater 
rogue  Robertson  is,  the  more  will  be  the  merit  of  bringing 
him  to  justice."  "  He  must  have  been  a  great  villain,  in- 
deed," he  again  reiterated;  "and  I  wish  I  had  the  skelping 
o'  him." 

'^  I  may  blame  mysell  mair  than  him/'  said  Effie.     "  I 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  i6e 

was  bred  up  to  ken  better  ;  but  he,  poor  fellow "     She 

stopped. 

"  Was  a  thorough  blackguard  a'  his  life,  I  dare  say,"  said 
Shurpitlaw.  "  A  stranger  he  was  in  this  country,  and  a  com- 
panion of  that  lawless  vagabond,  Wilson,  I  tliink,  Effie  ?" 

"  It  wad  hae  been  dearly  telling  him  that  he  had  ne'er 
seen  Wilson's  face." 

''That's  very  true  that  you  are  saying,  Effie,"  said  Sharp- 
itlaw.  "  Where  was't  that  Robertson  and  you  used  to  howff 
thegither  ?  Somegate  about  the  Laigh  Calton,  I  am  think- 
ing." 

The  simple  and  dispirited  girl  had  thus  far  followed  Mr. 
Sharpitlaw's  lead  because  he  had  artfully  adjusted  his  obser- 
vations to  the  thoughts  he  was  23retty  certain  must  be  passing 
through  her  own  mind,  so  that  her  answers  became  a  kind  of 
thinking  aloud,  a  mood  into  which  those  who  are  either  con- 
stitutionally absent  in  mind,  or  are  rendered  so  by  the  tempo- 
rary pressure  of  misfortune,  may  be  easily  led  by  a  skilful 
train  of  suggestions.  But  the  last  observation  of  the  procu- 
rator-fiscal was  too  much  of  the  nature  of  a  direct  interroga- 
tory, and  it  broke  the  charm  accordingly. 

''What  was  it  that  I  was  saying  ?"  said  Effie,  starting  up 
from  her  reclining  posture,  seating  herself  upright,  and  hastily 
shading  her  dishevelled  hair  back  from  her  wasted,  but  still 
beautiful,  countenance.  She  fixed  her  eyes  boldly  and  keenly 
upon  Sharpitlaw — "You  are  too  much  of  a  gentleman,  sir — 
too  much  of  an  honest  man,  to  take  any  notice  of  what  a  poor 
creature  like  me  says,  that  can  hardlv  ca'my  senses  my  ain — 
God  help  me  ! " 

"Advantage  !  I  would  be  of  some  advantage  to  you  if  I 
could," said  Sharpitlaw,  in  a  soothing  tone  ;  "and  I  ken  nae- 
thing  sae  likely  to  serve  ye,  Effie,  as  gripping  this  rascal, 
Robertson." 

"  0  dinna  misca'  him,  sir,  that  never  misca'd  you  !  Rob- 
ertson !  I  am  sure  I  had  naething  to  say  against  ony  man  o' 
the  name,  and  naething  will  I  say." 

"  But  if  you  do  not  heed  your  own  misfortune,  Effie,  you 
should  mind  what  distress  he  has  brought  on  your  family," 
said  the  man  of  law. 

"  0,  Heaven  help  me  !  "  exclaimed  poor  Effie.  "  My  poor 
father — my  dear  Jeanie  !  0,  that's  sairest  to  bide  of  a'  ! 
0,  sir,  if  you  hae  ony  kindness — if  ye  hae  ony  touch  of  com- 
passion— for  a'  the  folk  I  see  here  are  as  hard  as  the  wa'- 
Btanes — if  ye  wad  but  bid  them  let  my  sister  Jeanie  in  the 
<iQXl  time  she  ca's  I  for  when  I  hear  them  put  her  awa'  frae 


186  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

the  door,  and  canna  climb  up  to  that  high  window  to  see  sae 
muckle  as  her  gown-tail,  it's  like  to  pit  me  out  o'  my  judg- 
ment." And  she  looked  on  him  with  a  face  of  entreaty  so 
earnest,  yet  so  humble,  that  she  fairly  shook  the  steadfast 
purpose  of  his  mind.     . 

"  You  shall  see  your  sister,"  he  began,  "  if  you'll  tell  me" 
— then  interrupting  himself,  he  added,  in  a  more  hurried  tone 
— "  no,  d — n  it,  you  shall  see  your  sister  whether  you  tell  me 
anything  or  no."  So  saying,  he  rose  up  and  left  the  apart- 
ment. 

When  he  had  rejoined  Ratcliffe,  he  observed,  ''You  are 
right,  Ratton  ;  there's  no  making  much  of  that  lassie.  But 
ae  thing  I  have  cleared — that  is,  that  Robertson  has  been  the 
father  of  the  bairn,  and  so  I  will  wager  a  boddle  it  will  be  he 
that's  to  meet  wi'  Jeanie  Deans  this  night  at  Muschat's  Cairn, 
and  there  we'll  nail  him.  Rat,  or  my  name  is  not  Gideon 
Sharpitlaw." 

''But,"  said  Ratcliffe,  perhaps  because  he  was  in  no  hurry 
to  see  anything  which  was  like  to  be  connected  with  the  dis- 
covery and  apprehension  of  Robertson,  "  an  that  were  the  case, 
Mr.  Butler  wad  hae  kenn'd  the  man  in  the  King's  Park  to  be 
the  same  person  wi'  him  in  Madge  Wildfire's  claise  that  headed 
the  mob." 

"That  makes  nae  difference,  man,"  replied  Sharpitlaw. 
"  The  dress,  the  light,  the  confusion,  and  maybe  a  touch  o'  a 
blackit  cork,  or  a  slake  o'  paint — hout,  Ratton,  I  have  seen  ye 
dress  your  ainsell  that  the  deevil  ye  belang  to  durstna  hae  made 
oath  t'ye." 

"And  that's  true,  too,"  said  Ratcliffe. 

"  And  besides,  ye  donnard  carle,"  continued  Sharpitlaw, 
triumphantly,  "  the  minister  did  say,  that  he  thought  he  knew 
something  of  the  features  of  the  birkie  that  spoke  to  him  in 
the  Park,  though  he  could  not  charge  his  memory  where  or 
when  he  had  seen  them." 

"It's  evident,  then,  your  honor  will  be  right,"  said  Rat- 
cliffe. 

"Then,  Rat,  you  and  I  will  go  with  the  party  oursells 
this  night,  and  see  him  in  grips,  or  we  are  done  wi' 
him." 

"  I  seena  muckle  use  I  can  be  o'  to  your  honor,"  said  Rat- 
cliffe, reluctantly. 

"  Use  ! "  answered  Sharpitlaw.  "  You  can  guide  the  party  ; 
you  ken  the  ground.  Besides,  I  do  not  intend  to  quit  sight 
o'  you,  my  good  friend,  till  I  have  him  in  hand." 

"  Weel,  sir,"  said  Ratcliffe,  but  in  no  joyful  tone  of  acqui- 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  18% 

escence,  "  ye  maun  hae  it  your  ain  way  ;  but  mind  he's  a  des- 
perate man." 

"  We  shall  have  that  with  us/'  answered  Sharpitlaw,  '"^  that 
will  settle  him,  if  it  is  necessary." 

"But,  sir,"  answered  Ratcliffe,  "I  am  sure  I  couldna  un- 
dertake to  guide  you  to  Muschat's  Cairn  in  the  night-time  ;  I 
ken  the  place,  as  mony  does,  in  fair  daylight,  but  how  to  find 
it  by  moonshine,  amang  sae  mony  crags  and  stanes,  as  like  to 
each  other  as  the  collier  to  the  deil,  is  mair  than  I  can  tell. 
I  might  as  soon  seek  moonshine  in  water." 

"  What's  the  meaning  o'  this,  Ratcliffe  ?"  said  Sharpitlaw, 
while  he  fixed  his  eye  on  the  recusant,  with  a  fatal  and  omi- 
nous expression.  "  Have  you  forgotten  that  you  are  still  under 
sentence  of  death  ?  " 

"No,  sir,"  said  Eatcliffe,  "that's  a  thing  no  easily  put 
out  o'  memory  ;  and  if  my  presence  be  judged  necessary,  nae 
doubt  I  maun  gang  wi'  your  honor.  But  I  was  gaun  to  tell 
your  honor  of  ane  that  has  mair  skeel  o'  the  gate  than  me, 
and  that's  e'en  Madge  Wildfire." 

"  The  devil  she  has  !  Do  you  think  me  as  mad  as  she  is, 
to  trust  to  her  guidance  on  such  an  occasion  ?" 

"  Your  honor  is  the  best  Judge,"  answered  Ratclifle  ;  "  but 
I  ken  I  can  keep  her  in  tune,  and  gar  her  hand  the  straight 
path  ;  she  aften  sleeps  out,  or  rambles  about  amang  thae  hills 
the  haill  simmer  night,  the  daftlimmer." 

"  Well,  Ratcliffe,"  replied  the  procurator-fiscal,  "  if  you 
think  she  can  guide  us  the  right  way,  but  take  heed  to  what 
you  are  about,  your  life  depends  on  your  behavior." 

"It's  a  sair  judgment  on  a  man,"  said  Eatcliffe,  "Avhen 
he  has  ance  gane  sae  far  wrang  as  I  hae  done  that  deil  a  bit 
he  can  be  honest,  try't  whilk  way  he  will." 

Such  was  the  reflection  of  Eatcliffe,  when  he  was  left  for 
a  few  minutes  to  himself,  while  the  retainer  of  justice  went 
to  procure  a  proper  warrant,  and  give  the  necessary  direc- 
tions. 

The  rising  moon  saw  the  whole  party  free  from  the  walls 
of  the  city,  and  entering  upon  the  open  ground.  Arthur's 
Seat,  like  a  couchaut  lion  of  immense  size,  Salisbury  Crags, 
like  a  huge  belt  oi  girdle  of  granite,  were  dimly  visible. 
Holding  their  path  along  the  southern  side  of  the  Canongate, 
they  gained  the  Abbey  of  Holyrood  House,  and  from  thence 
found  their  way  by  step  and  stile  into  the  King's  Park.  They 
were  at  first  four  in  number — an  officer  of  Justice  and  Sharp- 
itlaw, who  were  well  armed  with  pistols  and  cutlasses  ;  Eat- 
cliffe, who  was  not  trusted  with  weapons,  lest  he  might,  per- 


166  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

adventure,  have  used  them  on  the  wrong  side ;  and  the 
female.  But  at  the  last  stile,  when  they  entered  the  chase, 
they  were  joined  by  other  two  officers,  whom  Sharpitlaw,  de- 
sirous to  secure  sufficient  force  for  his  purpose,  and  at  the 
same  time  to  avoid  observation,  had  directed  to  wait  for  him 
at  this  place.  Ratcliffe  saw  this  accession  of  strength  with 
some  disquietude,  for  he  had  hitherto  thought  it  likely  that 
Robertson,  who  was  a  bold,  stout,  and  active  young  fellow, 
miglit  have  made  his  escape  from  Sharpitlaw  and  the  single 
officer,  by  force  or  agility,  without  his  being  implicated  in 
the  matter.  But  the  present  strength  of  the  followers  of  jus- 
tice was  overpowering,  and  the  only  mode  of  saving  Robert- 
son, which  the  old  sinner  was  well  disposed  to  do,  providing 
always  he  could  accomplish  his  purpose  without  compro- 
mising his  own  safety,  must  be  by  contriving  that  he  should 
have  some  signal  of  their  approach.  It  was  probably  with 
this  view  that  Ratcliffe  had  requested  the  addition  of  Madge 
to  the  party,  having  considerable  confidence  in  her  propensity 
to  exert  her  lungs.  Indeed,  she  had  already  given  them  so 
many  specimens  of  her  clamorous  loquacity,  that  Sharpitlaw 
half  determined  to  send  her  back  with  one  of  the  officers, 
rather  than  carry  forward  in  his  company  a  person  so  ex- 
tremely ill  qualified  to  be  a  guide  in  a  secret  expedition. 
It  seemed,  too,  as  if  the  open  air,  the  approach  to  the  hills, 
and  the  ascent  of  the  moon,  supjoosed  to  be  so  portentous 
over  those  whose  brain  is  infirm,  made  her  spirits  rise  in  a 
degree  tenfold  more  loquacious  than  she  had  hitherto  ex- 
hibited. To  silence  her  by  fair  means  seemed  impossible  ; 
authoritative  commands  and  coaxing  entreaties  she  set  alike 
at  defiance ;  and  threats  only  made  her  sulky,  and  altogether 
intractable. 

"  Is  there  no  one  of  you,"  said  Sharpitlaw,  impatiently, 
"  that  knows  the  way  to  this  accursed  place — this  Nicol  Mus- 
chat's  Cairn — excepting  this  mad  clavering  idiot?" 

"  Deil  ane  o^  them  kens  it,  except  mysell,"  exclaimed 
Madge  ;  "how  suld  they,  the  poor  fule  cowards  ?  But  I  hae 
sat  on  the  grave  f  rae  bat-fieeing  time  till  cock-crow,  and  had 
mony  a  fine  crack  wi"  Nicol  Muschat,  and  Ailie  Muschat,  that 
are  lying  sleeping  below." 

"  The  devil  take  your  crazy  brain,"  said  Sharpitlaw  ;  "  will 
yon  not  allow  the  men  to  answer  a  question  ?" 

The  officers,  obtaining  a  moment's  audience  while  Rat- 
cliffe diverted  Madge's  attention,  declared,  that  though  they 
had  a  general  knowledge  of  the  spot,  they  could  not  un- 
dertake to  guide  the  party  to  it  by  the  uncertain  light  of  the 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  169 

moon,  with  such  accuracy  as  to  insure  success  to  their  ex- 
pedition. 

"  What  shall  we  do,  Ratcliffe  ?  "  said  Sharpitlaw.  "  If  he 
sees  us  before  we  see  him — and  that's  what  he  is  certain  to  do, 
if  wo  go  strolling  about,  without  keeping  the  straight  road — 
we  may  bid  gude  day  to  the  job ;  and  I  wad  rather  lose  one 
hundred  pounds,  baitli  for  the  credit  of  the  police,  and  be- 
cause the  Provost  says  somebody  maun  be  hanged  for  this  job 
o'  Porteous,  come  o't  what  likes." 

"I  think,"  said  Ratcliffe,  "we  maun  just  try  Madge  ;  and 
I'll  see  if  I  can  get  her  keepit  in  ony  better  order.  And  at 
ony  rate,  if  he  suld  hear  her  skirling  her  auld  ends  o'sangs, 
he's  no  to  ken  for  that  that  there's  onybody  wi'  her." 

"That's  true,"  said  Sharpitlaw  ;  "  and  if  he  thinks  her  alone 
he's  as  like  to  come  towards  her  as  to  rin  frae  her.  So  set 
forward,  we  hae  lost  ower  muckle  time  already  ;  see  to  get  her 
to  keep  the  right  road." 

"  And  what  sort  o'  house  does  Nicol  Muschat  and  his  wife 
keep  now  ?  "  said  Ratcliffe  to  the  mad  woman,  by  way  of  hu- 
moring her  vein  of  folly  ;  "  they  were  but  thrawn  folk  lung 
syne,  an  a'  tales  be  true." 

"  Ou,  ay,  ay,  ay  ;  but  a's  forgotten  now,"  replied  Madge, 
in  the  confidential  tone  of  a  gossip  giving  the  history  of  her 
next-door  neighbor.  "Ye  see,  I  spoke  to  them  mysell,  and 
tauld  them  byganes  suld  be  byganes.  Her  throat's  sair  mis- 
guggled  and  mashackered,  though  ;  she  wears  her  corpse-sheet 
drawn  weel  up  to  hide  it,  but  that  canna  hinder  the  bluid 
seiping  through,  ye  ken.  I  wussed  her  to  wash  it  in  St.  An- 
thony's Well,  and  that  will  cleanse  if  onything  can.  But  they 
say  bluid  never  bleaches  out  o'  linen  claith.  Deacon  Sanders's 
new  cleansing  draps  M^inna  do't;  I  tried  them  mysell  on  a  bit 
rag  we  hae  at  hame,  that  was  mailed  v\d'  the  bluid  of  a  bit  skirl- 
ing wean  that  was  hurt  some  gate,  but  out  it  winna  come. 
Weel,  ye'll  say  that's  queer ;  but  I  will  bring  it  out  to  St. 
Anthony's  blessed  Well  some  braw  night  just  like  this,  and 
I'll  cry  up  Ailie  Muscluit,  and  she  and  I  will  hae  a  grand 
bouking-washing,  and  bleacli  our  claise  in  the  beams  of  the 
bonny  Lady  Moon,  that's  far  pleasanter  to  me  than  the  sun  ; 
the  sun's  ower  het,  and  ken  ye,  cummers,  my  brains  are  het 
eneugh  already.  But  the  moon,  and  the  dew,  and  the  night- 
wind,  they  are  just  like  a  caller  kail-blade  laid  on  my  brow  ; 
and  whiles  I  think  the  moon  just  shines  on  purpos^e  to  pleasure 
me,  when  naebody  sees  her  but  mysell." 

This  raving  discourse  slie  continued  with  prodigious  vol- 
ubility, walking  on  at  a  great  pace,  and  dragging  Eatcliffe 


170  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

along  with  her  while  he  endeavored,  in  appearance  at  least,  if 
not  in  reality,  to  induce  her  to  moderate  her  voice. 

All  at  once  she  stopped  short  upon  the  top  of  a  little  hillock, 
gazed  upward  fixedly,  and  said  not  one  word  for  the  space  of 
five  minutes.  "  What  the  devil  is  the  matter  with  her  now  ?  " 
said  Sharpitlaw  to  Eatcliff e.     ' '  Can  you  not  get  her  forward  ?  " 

"  Ye  maun  just  take  a  grain  o'  joatience  wi'  her,  sir,"  said 
Ratcliffe.  "  She'll  no  gae  a  foot  faster  than  she  likes  her- 
sell." 

"  D — n  her,"  said  Sharpitlaw,  ''I'll  take  care  she  has  her 
time  in  Bedlam  or  Bridewell,  or  both,  for  she's  both  mad  and 
mischievous." 

In  the  meanwhile,  Madge,  who  had  looked  very  pensive 
when  she  first  stopped,  suddenly  burst  into  a  vehement  fit  of 
laughter,  then  paused  and  sighed  bitterly,  then  was  seized 
with  a  second  fit  of  laughter,  then,  fixing  her  eyes  on  the 
moon,  lifted  up  her  voice  and  sung — 

' '  Good  even,  good  fair  moon,  good  even  to  thee  ; 
I  prithee,  dear  moon,  now  show  to  me 
The  form  and  the  features,  the  speech  and  degree, 
Of  the  man  that  true  lover  of  mine  shall  be. 

But  I  need  not  ask  that  of  the  bonny  Lady  Moon  ;  I  ken  that 
weel  eneugh  mysell — /rwe-love  though  he  wasna.  But  nae- 
body  shall  say  that  I  ever  tauld  a  word  about  the  matter. 
But  whiles  I  wish  the  bairn  had  lived.  Weel,  God  guide  us, 
there's  a  heaven  aboon  us  a'  [here  she  sighed  bitterly],  and  a 
bonny  moon,  and  sterns  in  it  forbye,"  and  here  she  laughed 
once  more. 

"  Are  we  to  stand  here  all  night  ?"  said  Sharpitlaw,  very 
impatiently.     "  Drag  her  forward." 

"Ay,  sir,"  said  Ratcliffe,  "if  we  kenn'd  whilk  way  to  drag 
her  that  would  settle  it  at  ance.  Come,  Madge,  hinny,"  ad- 
dressing her,  "we'll  no  be  in  time  to  see  Nicol  and  his  wife 
unless  ye  show  us  the  road." 

"  In  troth  and  that  I  will,  Ratton,"  said  she,  seizing  him 
by  the  arm,  and  resuming  her  route  with  huge  strides,  con- 
sidering it  was  a  female  who  took  them.  "And  I'll  tell  ye, 
Ratton,  blithe  will  Nicol  Muschat  be  to  see  ye,  for  he  says  he 
kens  weel  there  isna  sic  a  villain  out  o'  hell  as  ye  are,  and  he 
wad  be  ravished  to  hae  a  crack  wi'  you — like  to  like,  ye  ken 
— it's  a  proverb  never  fails  ;  and  ye  are  baith  a  pair  o'  the 
deevil's  peats,  I  trow — hard  to  ken  whilk  deserves  the  hettest 
corner  o'  his  ingle-side." 

RatclifEe  was  conscience-struck,  and   could  not  forbear 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  171 

making  an   involuntary   protest   against  this  classification. 
"  I  never  shed  blood,"  he  replied. 

''  But  ye  hae  sauld  it,  Ratton — yehae  sauld  blood  mony  a 
time.  Folk  kill  wi'  the  tongue  as  weel  as  wi'  the  hand — vri' 
the  word  as  weel  as  wi'  the  gulley  ! — 

"  It  is  the  bonny  butcher  lad, 

That  wears  the  sleeves  of  blue. 
He  sells  the  flesh  on  Saturday, 
On  Friday  tliat  he  slew." 

"  And  what  is  that  I  am  doing  now  ?"  thought  Ratcliffe. 
"  But  I'll  hae  nae  wyte  of  Robertson's  young  biuid,  if  I  can 
help  it."  Then  speaking  apart  to  Madge,  he  asked  her, 
"  Whether  she  did  not  remember  ony  o'  her  auld  sangs  ?  " 

"  Mony  a  dainty  ane,"  said  Madge  ;  "  and  blithely  can  I 
sing  them,  for  lightsome  sangs  make  merry  gate."  And  she 
sung — 

"  When  the  glede's  in  the  blue  cloud, 
The  lavrock  lies  still ; 
When  the  hound's  in  the  green-wood. 
The  hind  keeps  the  hill." 

"Silence  her  cursed  noise,  if  you  should  throttle  her," 
said  Sharpitlaw  ;  "I  see  somebody  yonder.  Keep  close,  my 
boys,  and  creep  round  the  shoulder  of  the  height.  George 
Poinder,  stay  you  with  Ratclifl'e  and  that  mad  yelling  bitch  ; 
and  you  other  two,  come  with  me  round  under  the  shadow  of 
the  brae." 

And  he  crept  forward  with  the  stealthy  pace  of  an  Indian 
savage,  who  leads  his  band  to  surprise  an  unsuspecting  party 
of  some  hostile  tribe.  Ratcliffe  saw  them  glide  off,  avoiding 
the  moonlight,  and  keeping  as  much  in  the  shade  as  possible. 
"  Robertson's  done  up,"  said  he  to  himself  ;  "  thae  young  lads 
are  aye  sae  thoughtless.  What  deevil  could  he  hae  to  say  to 
Jeanie  Deans,  or  to  ony  woman  on  earth,  that  he  suld  gang 
awa'  and  get  his  neck  raxed  for  her  ?  And  this  mad  quean, 
after  cracking  like  a  pen-gun  and  skirling  like  a  pea-hen  for 
the  haill  night,  behoves  Just  to  hae  hadden  her  tongue  when 
her  clavers  might  have  done  some  gude  I  But  it's  aye  the 
way  wi'  women  ;  if  they  ever  hand  their  tongues  ava,  ye  may 
swear  it's  for  mischief.  I  wish  I  could  set  her  on  again  with- 
out this  blood-sucker  kenning  what  I  am  doing.  But  he's 
as  gleg  as  MacKeachan's  elshin,  that  ran  through  sax  plies  of 
bend-leather  and  half  an  inch  into  the  king's  heel." 

He  then  began  to  hum,  but  in  a  very  low  and  suppressed 
tone,  the  first  stanza  of  a  favorite  ballad  of  Wildfire's,  the 


173  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

words  of  which  bore  some  distant  analogy  with  the  situation 
of  Robertson,  trusting  that  the  power  of  association  would  not 
fail  to  bring  the  rest  to  her  mind  : 

"  There's  a  bloodhound  ranging  Tinwald  wood, 
There's  harness  glancing  sheen  ; 
There's  a  maiden  sits  on  Tinwald  brae, 
And  she  sings  loud  between." 

Madge  had  no  sooner  received  the  catchword  than  she 
yindicated  Ratcliffe's  sagacity  by  setting  off  at  score  with  tiie 
song : 

"  O  sleep  ye  sound,  Sir  James,  she  said, 
When  ye  suld  rise  and  ride  ? 
There's  twenty  men,  wi'  bow  and  blade. 
Are  seeking  where  ye  hide. " 

Though  Eatcliffe  was  at  a  considerable  distance  from  the 
spot  called  Muschat's  Cairn,  yet  his  eyes,  practised  like  those 
of  a  cat  to  penetrate  darkness,  could  mark  that  Robertson 
had  caught  the  alarm.  George  Poinder,  less  keen  of  sight 
or  less  attentive,  was  not  aware  of  his  flight  any  more  than 
Sharpitlaw  and  his  assistants,  whose  view,  though  they  were 
considerably  nearer  to  the  cairn,  was  intercepted  by  the  broken 
nature  of  the  ground  under  which  they  were  screening  them- 
selves. At  length,  however,  after  the  interval  of  five  or  six 
minutes,  they  also  perceived  that  Robertson  had  fled,  and 
rushed  hastily  towards  the  place,  while  Sharpitlaw  called  out 
aloud,  in  the  harshest  tones  of  a  voice  which  resembled  a 
saw-mill  at  work,  "  Chase,  lads — chase — hand  the  brae ;  I 
see  him  on  the  edge  of  the  hill ! "  Then  hallooing  back  to 
the  rear-guard  of  his  detachment,  he  issued  his  further  orders  : 
••  Ratcliffe,  come  here  and  detain  the  woman  ;  George,  run 
and  keep  the  stile  at  the  Duke's  Walk ;  Ratcliffe,  come  here 
directly,  but  first  knock  out  that  mad  bitch's  brains  !  " 

"  Ye  had  better  rin  for  it,  Madge,"  said  Ratcliffe,  "for 
it's  ill  dealing  wi'  an  angry  man." 

Madge  Wildfire  was  not  so  absolutely  void  of  cortimon  sense 
as  not  to  understand  this  innuendo  ;  and  while  Ratcliffe,  in 
seemingly  anxious  haste  of  obedience,  hastened  to  the  spot 
where  Sharpitlaw  waited  to  deliver  up  Jeanie  Deans  to  his 
custody,  she  fled  with  all  the  despatch  she  could  exert  in  an 
opposite  direction.  Thus  the  whole  party  were  separated, 
and  in  rapid  motion  of  flight  or  pursuit,  excepting  Ratcliffe 
and  Jeanie,  whom,  although  making  no  attempt  to  escape, 
he  held  fast  by  the  cloak,  and  who  remained  standing  by 
Muschat's  Cairn 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

You  have  paid  the  heavens  your  function,  and  the  prisoner  the 
very  debt  of  your  calling. 

Measure  for  Measure. 

Jeanie  Deans — for  here  our  story  unites  itself  with  that  part 
of  the  narrative  which  hroke  oft'  at  the  end  of  tlie  fifteenth 
chapter — while  she  waited,  in  terror  and  amazement,  the  hasty 
advance  of  three  or  four  men  towards  her,  was  yet  more  startled 
at  their  suddenly  breaking  asunder,  and  giving  chase  in  dif- 
ferent directions  to  the  late  object  of  her  terror,  who  became 
at  that  moment,  though  she  could  not  well  assign  a  reasonable 
cause,  rather  the  cause  of  her  interest.  One  of  the  party — it 
was  Sharpitlaw — came  straight  up  to  her,  and  saying,  "  Your 
name  is  Jeanie  Deans,  and  you  are  my  prisoner, ''  immediately 
added,  "  but  if  you  will  tell  me  which  way  he  ran  I  will  let 
you  go." 

"  I  dinna  ken,  sir,"  was  all  the  poor  girl  could  utter  ;  and, 
indeed,  it  is  the  phrase  which  rises  most  readily  to  the  lips  of 
any  person  in  her  rank,  as  the  readiest  reply  to  any  embar- 
rassing question. 

"  But,"  said  Sharpitlaw,  "  ye  ken  wha  it  was  ye  were  speak- 
ing wi',  my  leddy,  on  the  hillside,  and  midnight  sae  near  ;  ye 
surely  ken  that,  my  bonny  woman  ?  " 

"I  dinna  ken,  sir,"  again  iterated  Jeanie,  who  really  did 
not  comprehend  in  her  terror  the  nature  of  the  questions  which 
were  so  hastily  put  to  her  in  this  moment  of  surprise. 

"  We  will  try  to  mend  your  memory  by  and  by,  hinny," 
said  Sharpitlaw,  and  shouted,  as  we  have  already  told  tlie 
reader,  to  Ratcliffe  to  come  up  and  take  charge  of  her,  while 
he  himself  directed  the  chase  after  Robertson,  which  he  still 
hoped  might  be  successful.  As  Ratcliffe  approached,  Sharpit- 
law pushed  the  young  woman  towards  him  with  some  rudeness, 
and  betaking  himself  to  the  more  important  object  of  his 
quest,  began  to  scale  crags  and  scramble  up  steep  banks,  with 
an  agility  of  which  his  profession  and  his  general  gravity  of 
demeanor  would  previously  have  argued  him  incapable.  In  a 
few  minutes  there  was  no  one  within  sight,  and  only  a  distant 
halloo  from  one  of  the  pursuers  to  the  other,  faintly  heard  on 
the  side  of  the  hill,  argued  that  there  was  any  one  within 


174  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

hearing.  Jeanie  Deans  was  left  in  the  clear  moonlight,  stand- 
ing under  the  guard  of  a  person  of  whom  she  knew  nothing, 
and,  what  was  worse,  concerning  whom,  as  the  reader  is  well 
aware,  she  could  have  learned  nothing  that  would  not  have  in- 
creased her  terror. 

When  all  in  the  distance  was  silen  t,  Eatcliffe  for  the  first 
time  addressed  her,  and  it  was  in  that  cold  sarcastic  indiffer- 
ent tone  famili;'.r  to  habitual  depravity,  whose  crimes  are  in- 
stigated by  custom  rather  than  by  passion.  "This  is  a  braw 
night  for  ye,  dearie,"  he  said,  attempting  to  pass  his  arm 
across  her  shoulder,  "  to  be  on  the  green  hill  wi'  your  jo." 
Jeanie  extricated  herself  from  his  grasp,  but  did  not  make 
any  reply.  "I  think  lads  and  lasses,"  continued  the  ruffian, 
"  dinna  meet  at  Muscliat's  Cairn  at  midnight  to  crack  nuts," 
and  he  again  attempted  to  take  hold  of  her. 

"  If  ye  are  an  officer  of  justice,  sir,"  said  Jeanie,  again 
eluding  his  attempt  to  seize  her,  "  ye  deserve  to  have  your 
coat  stripped  from  your  back." 

"  Very  true,  hinny,"  said  he,  succeeding  forcibly  in  his  at- 
tempt to  get  hold  of  her,  '''but  suppose  I  should  strip  your 
cloak  off  first?" 

"  Ye  are  more  a  man,  I  am  sure,  than  to  hurt  me,  sir," 
said  Jeanie  ;  "  for  God^s  sake  have  pity  on  a  half -distracted 
creature  !  " 

''Come,  come,"  said  Ratcliffe,  "you're  a  good-looking 
wench,  and  should  not  be  cross-grained.  I  was  going  to  bo 
an  honest  man,  but  the  devil  has  this  very  day  flung  first  a 
lawyer  and  then  a  woman  in  my  gate.  I'll  tell  you  what, 
Jeanie,  they  are  out  on  the  hillside  ;  if  you'll  be  guided  by 
me,  I'll  carry  you  to  a  wee  bit  corner  in  the  Pleasauuts  that  I 
ken  o'  in  an  auid  wife's,  that  a'  the  prokitors  o'  Scotland  wot 
naetliing  o',  and  we'll  send  Robertson  word  to  meet  us  in 
Yorksiiire,  for  there  is  a  set  o'  braw  lads  about  the  midland 
counties,  that  I  hae  dune  business  wi'  before  now,  and  sae 
we'll  leave  Mr.  Sharpitlaw  to  whistle  on  his  thumb." 

It  was  fortunate  for  Jeanie,  in  an  emergency  like  the 
present,  that  she  possessed  presence  of  mind  and  courage,  so 
soon  as  the  first  hurry  of  surprise  had  enabled  her  to  rally  her 
recollection.  She  saw  the  risk  she  was  in  from  a  ruffian,  who 
not  only  was  such  by  profession,  but  had  that  evening  been 
stupefying,  by  means  of  strong  liquors,  the  internal  aversion 
which  he  felt  at  the  business  on  which  Sharpitlaw  had  re- 
solved to  employ  him. 

"Dinna  speak  sae  loud,"  said  she,  in  a  low  voice,  "he's 
up  yonder." 


THE  HEAR!   OF  MIDLOTHIAN  175 

**Who  ?     Robertson  ?  "  said  Ratcliffe,  eagerly. 

"  Ay,"  replied  Jeanie — "  up  yonder  ; "  and  she  pointed  to 
the  ruins  of  the  hermitage  and  chapel. 

"By  Of — d,  then/'  said  Ratclifl:e,  ''I'll  make  my  ain  of 
him,  either  one  way  or  other  ;  wait  for  me  here." 

But  no  sooner  had  he  set  off,  as  fast  as  he  could  run,  towards 
the  chapel,  than  Jeanie  started  in  an  opposite  direction,  over 
high  and  low,  on  the  nearest  path  homeward.  Her  juvenile 
exercise  as  a  herdswoman  had  put  "  life  and  mettle"  in  her 
heels,  and  never  had  she  followed  Dustiefoot,  wlien  the  cows 
were  in  the  corn,  with  half  so  much  speed  as  she  now  cleared 
the  distance  betwixt  Muschat's  Cairn  and  her  father's  cottage 
at  St.  Leonard's.  To  lift  the  latch,  to  enter,  to  shut,  bolt, 
and  double  bolt  the  door,  to  draw  against  it  a  heavy  article 
of  furniture,  which  she  could  not  have  moved  in  a  moment 
of  less  energy,  so  as  to  make  yet  further  provision  against 
violence,  was  almost  the  work  of  a  moment,  yet  done  with  such 
silence  as  equalled  the  celerity. 

Her  next  anxiety  was  upon  her  father's  account,  and  she 
drew  silently  to  the  door  of  his  apartment,  in  order  to  satisfy 
herself  whether  he  had  been  disturbed  by  her  return.  He  was 
awake — probably  had  slept  but  little  ;  but  the  constant  presence 
of  his  own  sorrows,  the  distance  of  his  apartment  from  the 
outer  door  of  the  house,  and  the  precautions  which  Jeanie  had 
taken  to  conceal  her  departure  and  return,  had  prevented  him 
from  being  sensible  of  either.  He  was  engaged  in  his  devotions, 
and  Jeanie  could  distinctly  hear  him  use  these  words  :  "  And 
for  the  other  child  Thou  hast  given  me  to  be  a  comfort  and 
stay  to  my  old  age,  may  her  days  be  long  in  the  land,  according 
to  the  promise  Thou  hast  given  to  those  who  shall  honor 
father  and  mother  ;  may  all  her  purchased  and  promised  bless- 
ings be  multiplied  upon  her  ;  keep  her  in  the  watches  of  the 
night,  and  in  the  uprising  of  the  morning,  that  all  in  this  land 
may  know  that  Thou  hast  not  utterly  hid  Thy  face  from  those 
that  seek  Thee  in  truth  and  in  sincerity."  He  was  silent,  but 
probably  continued  his  petition  in  the  strong  fervency  of  mental 
devotion. 

His  daughter  retired  to  her  apartment,  comforted,  that 
while  she  was  exposed  to  danger,  her  head  had  been  covered 
by  the  prayers  of  the  just  as  by  a  helmet,  and  under  the 
strong  confidence  that,  while  she  walked  worthy  of  the  pro- 
tection of  Heaven,  she  would  experience  its  countenance.  It 
was  in  that  moment  that  a  vague  idea  first  darted  across  her 
mind,  that  something  might  yet  be  achieved  for  her  sister's 
safety,  conscious  as  she  now  was  of  her  innocence  of  the  un- 


176  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

natural  murder  with  which  she  stood  charged.  It  came,  as 
she  described  it,  on  her  mind  like  a  sun-blink  on  a  stormy 
sea  ;  and  although  it  instantly  vanished,  yet  she  felt  a  degree 
of  composure  which  she  had  not  experienced  for  many  days, 
and  could  not  help  being  strongly  persuaded  that,  by  some 
means  or  other,  she  would  be  called  upon  and  directed  to  work 
out  her  sister's  deliverance.  She  went  to  bed,  not  forgetting 
her  usual  devotions,  the  more  fervently  made  on  account  of 
her  late  deliverance,  and  she  slept  soundly  in  spite  of  her 
agitation. 

We  must  return  to  Ratcliffe,  who  had  started,  like  a  grey- 
hound from  the  slips  when  the  sportsman  cries  halloo,  so  soon 
as  Jeanie  had  pointed  to  the  ruins.  Whether  he  meant  to 
aid  Eobertson's  escape  or  to  assist  his  pursuers  may  be  very 
doubtful ;  perhaps  he  did  not  himself  know,  but  had  resolved 
to  be  guided  by  circumstances.  He  had  no  opportunity,  how- 
ever, of  doing  either  ;  for  he  had  no  sooner  surmounted  the 
steep  ascent,  and  entered  under  the  broken  arches  of  the  ruins, 
than  a  pistol  was  presented  at  his  head,  and  a  harsh  voice  com- 
manded him,  in  the  king's  name,  to  surrender  himself  pris- 
oner. 

"  Mr.  Sharpitlaw  ! "  said  Ratcliffe,  surprised,  "  is  this  your 
honor  ?" 

"Is  it  only  you,  and  be  d — d  to  you  ?  "  answered  the  fiscal, 
still  more  disappointed  ;  "  what  made  you  leave  the  woman  ?" 

"She  told  me  she  saw  Robertson  go  into  the  ruins,  so  I 
made  what  haste  I  could  to  cleek  the  callant." 

"It's  all  over  now,"  said  Sharpitlaw,  "we  shall  see  no 
more  of  him  to-night ;  but  he  shall  hide  himself  in  a  bean-hool, 
if  he  remains  on  Scottish  ground  without  my  finding  him. 
Call  back  the  people,  Ratcliffe." 

Ratcliffe  hallooed  to  the  dispersed  officers,  who  willingly 
obeyed  the  signal ;  for  probably  there  was  no  individual  among 
them  who  would  have  been  much  desirons  of  -a,  reticontre  hand 
to  liand,  and  at  a  distance  from  his  comrades,  with  such  an 
aotive  and  desperate  fellow  as  Robertson. 

"And  where  are  the  two  women  ?  "  said  Sharpitlaw. 

"  Both  made  their  heels  serve  them,  I  suspect,"  replied 
Ratcliffe,  and  he  hummed  the  end  of  the  old  song — 

"  Then  hey  play  up  the  rin-awa'  bride, 
For  slie  has  taen  the  gee." 

"  One  woman,"  said  Sharpitlaw,  for,  like  all  rogues,  he  was 
a  great  calumniator  of  the  fair  sex  * — "  one  woman  is  enough 

*  bee  Note  i2. 


TEE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  177 

to  dark  the  fairest  ploy  that  ever  was  planned  ;  and  how  conld 
I  be  such  an  ass  as  to  expect  to  carry  through  a  job  that  had 
two  in  it  ?  But  we  know  how  to  come  by  them  both,  if  they 
are  wanted,  that's  one  good  thing." 

Accordingly,  like  a  defeated  general,  sad  and  sulky,  he  led 
back  his  discomfited  forces  to  the  metropolis,  and  dismissed 
t-hem  for  the  night. 

The  next  morning  early,  he  was  under  the  necessity  of 
making  his  report  to  the  sitting  magistrate  of  the  day.  The 
gentleman  who  occupied  the  chair  of  oflBce  on  this  occasion, 
for  the  bailies  {Anglice,  aldermen)  take  it  by  rotation, 
chanced  to  be  the  same  by  whom  Butler  was  committed,  a 
person  very  generally  respected  among  his  fellow-citizens. 
Something  he  was  of  a  humorist,  and  rather  deficient  in  gen- 
eral education  ;  but  acute,  patient,  and  upright,  possessed  of 
a  fortune  acquired  by  honest  industry,  which  made  him  per- 
fectly independent ;  and,  in  short,  very  happily  qualified  to 
support  the  respectability  of  the  office  wfiich  he  held. 

Mr.  Middleburgh  had  just  taken  his  seat,  and  was  debat- 
ing in  an  animated  manner,  with  one  of  his  colleagues,  the 
doubtful  chances  of  a  game  at  golf  which  they  had  played  the 
day  before,  when  a  letter  was  delivered  to  him,  addressed 
•'  For  Bailie  Middleburgh — These  :  to  be  forwarded  with 
speed."     It  contained  these  words  : 

''SiK, 

"I  know  you  to  be  a  sensible  and  a  considerate  magis- 
trate, and  one  who,  as  such,  will  be  content  to  worship  God 
though  the  devil  bid  you.  I  therefore  expect  that,  not- 
withstanding the  signature  of  this  letter  acknowledges  my 
share  in  an  action  which,  in  a  proper  time  and  place,  I 
would  not  fear  either  to  avow  or  to  justify,  you  will  not  on 
that  account  reject  what  evidence  I  place  before  you.  The 
clergyman,  Butler,  is  innocent  of  all  but  involuntary  presence 
at  an  action  which  he  wanted  spirit  to  approve  of,  and  from 
which  he  endeavored,  with  his  best  set  phrases,  to  dissuade  ns. 
But  it  was  not  for  him  that  it  is  my  hint  to  speak.  There  is 
a  woman  in  your  jail,  fallen  under  the  edge  of  a  law  so 
cruel  that  it  has  hung  by  the  wall,  like  unsecured  armor,  for 
twenty  years,  and  is  now  brought  down  and  whetted  to  spill 
the  blood  of  the  most  oeautiful  and  most  innocent  creature 
whom  the  Avails  of  a  prison  ever  girdled  in.  Her  sister  knows 
of  lier  innocence,  as  she  communicated  to  her  that  she  was 
betrayed  by  a  villain.     0  that  high  Heaven 

"  Would  put  m  every  honest  hand  a  whip. 
To  scourge  me  such  a  villain  through  th«  w«rld  I 


178  WAVERLEV  NOVELS 

'*  I  write  distractedly.  Bnt  this  girl — this  Jeanie  Deans, 
is  a  peevish  Puritan,  superstitious  and  scrupulous  after  the 
manner  of  her  sect ;  and  I  pray  your  honor,  for  so  my  phrase 
must  go,  to  press  uj)ou  her  that  her  sister's  life  depends  upon 
her  testimony.  But  though  she  should  remain  silent,  do  not 
dare  to  think  that  the  young  woman  is  guilty,  far  less  to  permit 
her  execution.  Remember,  the  death  of  Wilson  was  fearfully 
avenged  ;  and  those  yet  live  who  can  compel  you  to  drink  the 
dregs  of  your  poisoned  chalice.  I  say,  remember  Porteous — 
and  say  that  you  had  good  counsel  from 

"  One  of  his  Slayeks." 

The  magistrate  read  over  this  extraordinary  letter  twice  or 
thrice.  At  first  he  was  tempted  to  throw  it  aside  as  the  pro- 
duction of  a  madman,  so  little  did  "  the  scraps  from  playbooks,^' 
as  he  termed  the  poetical  quotation,  resemble  the  correspond- 
ence of  a  rational  being.  On  a  re-perusal,  however,  he 
thought  that,  amid  its  incoherence,  he  could  discover  some- 
thing like  a  tone  of  awakened  passion,  though  expressed  in  a 
manner  quaint  and  unusual. 

'^  It  is  a  cruelly  severe  statute,"  said  the  magistrate  to  his 
assistant,  "  and  I  wish  the  girl  could  be  taken  from  under  the 
letter  of  it.  A  child  may  have  been  born,  and  it  may  have 
been  conveyed  away  while  the  mother  was  insensible,  or  it  may 
have  perished  for  want  of  that  relief  which  the  J)00Y  creature 
herself — helpless,  terrified,  distracted,  despairing,  and  ex- 
hausted— may  have  been  unable  to  afford  to  it.  And  yet  it  is 
certain,  if  the  woman  is  found  guilty  under  the  statute,  execu- 
tion will  follow.  The  crime  has  been  too  common,  and  examples 
are  necessary." 

"  But  if  this  other  wench,"  said  the  city  clerk,  "  can  speak 
to  her  sister  communicating  her  situation,  it  will  take  the  case 
from  under  the  statute." 

"  Very  true,"  rejjlied  the  bailie  ;  "  and  I  will  walk  out  one 
of  these  days  to  St.  Leonard's  and  examine  the  girl  myself.  I 
know  something  of  their  father  Deans — an  old  true-blue  Came- 
ronian,  who  would  see  house  and  family  go  to  wreck  ere  he  would 
disgrace  his  testimony  by  a  sinful  complying  with  the  defections 
of  the  times  ;  and  such  he  will  probably  uphold  the  taking  an 
oath  before  a  civil  magistrate.  If  they  are  to  go  on  and  flourish 
with  their  bull-headed  obstinacy,  the  legislature  must  pass  an 
act  to  take  their  affirmations,  as  in  the  case  of  Quakers.  But 
surely  neither  a  father  nor  a  sister  will  scruple  in  a  case  of 
this  kind.  As  I  said  before,  I  will  go  speak  with  them  myself, 
when  the  hurry  of  this  Porteous  investi^arioii  is  somewhat  over " 


THE  HEART  o^'^  MIDLOTHIAN  l79 

their  pride  and  spirit  of  contradiction  will  be  far  less  alarmed 
than  if  they  were  called  into  a  court  of  justice  at  once/^ 

"  And  I  suppose  Butler  is  to  remain  incarcerated  ?"  said 
the  city  clerk. 

"  For  the  present,  certainly,"  said  the  magistrate.  "  But 
I  hope  soon  to  set  him  at  liberty  upon  bail.''' 

"Do  yon  rest  upon  the  testimony  of  that  light-headed 
letter  ?  "  asked  the  clerk. 

"Not  very  much,"  answered  the  bailie;  "and  yet  there 
is  something  striking  about  it  too  ;  it  seems  the  letter  of  a 
man  beside  himself,  either  from  great  agitation  or  some  great 
sense  of  guilt." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  town  clerk,  "  it  is  very  like  the  letter  of 
a  mad  strolling  play-actor,  who  deserves  to  be  hanged  with 
all  the  rest  of  his  gang,  as  your  honor  justly  observes." 

"  I  was  not  quite  so  bloodtliirsty,"  continued  the  magis- 
trate. "  But  to  the  point.  Butler's  private  character  is  ex- 
cellent ;  and  I  am  given  to  understand,  by  some  inquiries  I 
have  been  making  this  morning,  that  he  did  actually  arrive 
in  town  only  the  day  before  yesterday,  so  that  it  was  impossi- 
ble he  could  have  been  concerned  in  any  previous  machina- 
tions of  these  unhappy  rioters,  and  it  is  not  likely  that  he 
should  have  joined  them  on  a  suddenly." 

"  There's  no  saying  anent  that ;  zeal  catches  fire  at  a 
slight  spark  as  fast  as  a  brunstane  match,"  observed  the  sec- 
retary. "  I  hae  kenn'd  a  minister  wad  be  fair  gude-day  and 
fair  gude-e'en  wi'  ilka  man  in  the  parochine,  and  hing  just 
as  quiet  as  a  rocket  on  a  stick,  till  ye  mentioned  the  word 
abjuration  oath,  or  patronage,  or  sic-like,  and  then,  whiz,  he 
was  off,  and  up  in  the  air  an  hundred  miles  beyond  common 
manners,  common  sense,  and  common  comprehension." 

"I  do  not  understand,"  answered  the  burgher  magistrate, 
"  that  the  young  man  Butler's  zeal  is  of  so  inflammable  a 
character.  But  I  will  make  further  investigation.  What 
other  business  is  there  before  us  ?" 

And  they  proceeded  to  minute  investigations  concerning 
the  affair  of  Porteous's  death,  and  other  affairs  through 
which  this  history  has  no  occasion  to  trace  them. 

In  the  course  of  their  business  they  were  interrupted  by 
an  old  woman  of  the  lower  rank,  extremely  haggard  in  look 
and  wretched  in  her  apparel,  who  thrust  herself  into  the 
council  room. 

"  What  do  you  want,  gudewife  ?  Who  are  you?"  said 
Bailie  Middleburgh. 

"What  do  I  want !"  replied  she,  in  a  sulky  tone      **J 


180  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

want  my  bairn,  or  I  want  naething  frae  nane  o*  ye,  for  as 
grand's  ye  are."  And  she  went  on  muttering  to  herself,  with 
the  wayward  spitefulness  of  age — "  They  maun  hae  lordships 
and  honors  nae  doubt ;  set  them  np,  the  gutter-bloods  !  and 
deil  a  gentleman  amang  them."  Then  again  addressing  the 
sitting  magistrate — "  Will  you?^  honor  gie  me  back  my  puir 
crazy  bairn  ?  His  honor  !  I  hae  kenn'd  the  day  when  less 
wad  ser'd  him,  the  oe  of  a  Campvere  skipper." 

'^  Good  woman,"  said  the  magistrate  to  this  shrewish  sup- 
plicant, ''  tell  us  what  it  is  you  want,  and  do  not  interrupt 
the  court." 

"  That's  as  muckle  as  till  say, '  Bark,  Bawtie,  and  be  dune 
wi't ! '  I  tell  ye,"  raising  her  termagant  voice,  "  I  want  my 
bairn  !  is  na  that  braid  Scots  ?" 

"  Who  are  you  ?  who  is  your  bairn  ?  "  demanded  the  magis- 
trate. 

*'  Wha  am  I  ?  Wha  suld  I  be,  but  Meg  Murdockson,  and 
wha  suld  my  bairn  be  but  Magdalen  Murdockson  ?  Your  guard 
soldiers,  and  your  constables,  and  your  officers  ken  us  weel 
eneugh  when  they  rive  the  bits  o'  duds  afl  our  backs,  and  take 
what  penny  o'  siller  we  hae,  and  harle  us  to  the  correction- 
house  in  Leith  Wynd,  and  pettle  us  up  wi'  bread  and  water, 
and  sic-like  sunkets." 

"  Who  is  she  ?  "  said  the  magistrate,  looking  round  to  some 
of  his  people. 

"  Other  than  agudeane,  sir,"  said  one  of  the  city  officers, 
shrugging  his  shoulders  and  smiling. 

"  Will  ye  say  sae  ?  "  said  the  termagant,  her  eye  gleaming 
with  impotent  fury  ;  "  an  I  had  ye  amang  the  Frigate  Whins, 
wadna  I  set  my  ten  talents  in  your  wuzzentface  for  that  very 
word  ?  "  and  she  suited  the  word  to  the  action,  by  spreading 
out  a  set  of  claws  resembling  those  of  St.  George's  dragon  on 
a  country  sign-post. 

"What  does  she  want  here  ?"  said  the  impatient  magis- 
trate.    "  Can  she  not  tell  her  business,  or  go  away  ?" 

''  It's  ray  bairn — it's  Magdalen  Murdockson  I'm  wantin','* 
answered  the  beldam,  screaming  at  the  highest  pitch  of  her 
cracked  and  mistuned  voice  ;  ''  havena  I  been  tellin'  ye  sae 
this  half-hour  ?  And  if  ye  are  deaf,  what  needs  ye  sit  cockit 
up  there,  and  keep  folk  scraughin'  t'ye  this  gate  ?  " 

"  She  wants  her  daughter,  sir,"  said  the  same  officer  whose 
interference  had  given  the  hag  such  offence  before — "  her 
daughter,  who  was  taken  up  last  night — Madge  Wildfire,  as 
they  ca'  her." 

"  Madge  Hellfiee,  as  they  ca'  her  !  "  echoed  the  beldam  : 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  18v 

"  and  what  business  has  a  blackguard  like  you  to  ca'  an  honest 
woman's  bairn  out  o'  her  ain  name  ?  " 

"  An  7io«es^  woman's  bairn,  Maggie  ?"  answered  the  peace- 
officer,  smiling  and  shaking  his  head  with  an  ironical  emphasis 
on  the  adjective,  and  a  calmness  calculated  to  provoke  to  mad- 
ness the  furious  old  shrew. 

"  If  I  am  no  honest  now,  I  was  honest  ance,"  she  replied  ; 
"  and  that's  mair  than  ye  can  say,  ye  born  and  bred  thief,  that 
never  kenn'd  ither  folks'  gear  frae  your  ain  since  the  day  ye 
was  cleckit.  Honest,  say  ye  ?  Ye  pykit  your  mother's  pouch 
o'  twal  pennies  Scotch  when  ye  were  five  years  auld,  just  as  she 
was  taking  leave  o'  your  father  at  the  fit  o'  the  gallows." 

''  She  has  you  there,  George,"  said  the  assistants,  and  there 
was  a  general  laugh  ;  for  the  wit  was  fitted  for  the  meridian  of 
the  place  where  it  was  uttered.  This  general  applause  some- 
what gratified  the  passions  of  the  old  hag ;  the  '^  grim  feature  " 
smiled,  and  even  laughed,  but  it  was  a  laugh  of  bitter  scorn. 
She  condescended,  however,  as  if  aj^peased  by  the  success  of 
her  sally,  to  explain  her  business  more  distinctly,  when  the 
magistrate,  commanding  silence,  again  desired  her  either  to 
speak  out  her  errand  or  to  leave  the  place. 

''Her  bairn,"  she  said,  ''was  her  bairn,  and  she  came  to 
fetch  her  out  of  ill  haft  and  waur  guiding.  If  she  wasna  sae 
wise  as  ither  folk,  few  ither  folk  had  suffered  as  muckle  as  she 
had  done  ;  forbye  that  she  could  fend  the  Avaur  for  hersell 
within  the  four  wa's  of  a  jail.  She  could  prove  by  fifty  wit- 
nesses, and  fifty  to  that,  that  her  daughter  had  never  seen 
Jock  Porteous,  alive  or  dead,  since  he  had  gien  her  a  lounder- 
ing  wi'  his  cane,  the  neger  that  he  was !  for  driving  a  dead 
cat  at  the  provost's  wig  on  the  Elector  of  Hanover's  birth- 
day." 

Notwithstanding  the  wretched  appearance  and  violent  de- 
meanor of  this  woman,  the  magistrate  felt  the  justice  of  her 
argument,  that  her  child  might  be  as  dear  to  her  as  to  a  more 
fortunate  and  more  amiable  mother.  He  proceeded  to  in- 
vestigate the  circumstances  which  had  led  to  Madge  Mur- 
dockson's  (or  Wildfire's)  arrest,  and  as  it  was  clearly  shown 
that  she  had  not  been  engaged  in  the  riot,  he  contented  him- 
self with  directing  that  an  eye  should  be  kept  upon  her  by 
the  police,  but  that  for  the  present  she  should  be  allowed  to 
return  home  with  her  mother.  During  the  interval  of  fetch- 
ing Madge  from  the  jail,  the  magistrate  endeavored  to  dis- 
cover whether  her  mother  had  been  privy  to  the  change  of 
dress  betwixt  that  young  woman  and  Robertson.  But  on 
this  point  he  could  obtain  no  light.     She  persisted  in  declar- 


183  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

ing  that  she  had  never  seen  Robertson  since  his  remarkable 
escape  during  service-time ;  and  that,  if  her  daughter  had 
changed  clothes  with  him,  it  must  have  been  during  her 
absence  at  a  hamlet  about  two  miles  out  of  town,  called  Dud- 
dingstone,  where  she  could  prove  that  she  passed  that  event- 
ful night  And,  in  fact,  one  of  the  town  officers,  who  had 
been  searching  for  stolen  linen  at  the  cottage  of  a  washer- 
woman in  that  village,  gave  his  evidence,  that  he  had  seen 
Maggie  Murdockson  there,  whose  presence  had  considerably 
increased  his  suspicion  of  the  house  in  which  she  was  a  visitor, 
in  respect  that  he  considered  her  as  a  person  of  no  good  rep- 
utation. 

"  I  tauld  ye  sae,"  said  the  hag  ;  ''  see  now  what  it  is  to  hae 
a  character,  gude  or  bad  !  Now,  maybe  after  a',  I  could  tell 
ye  something  about  Porteous  that  you  council-chamber  bodies 
never  could  lind  out,  for  us  mucklestir  as  ye  mak." 

All  eyes  were  turned  towards  her,  all  ears  were  alert. 
"  Speak  out ! "  said  tiie  magistrate. 

"  It  will  be  for  your  ain  gude,"  insinuated  the  town  clerk. 

"  Dinna  keep  the  bailie  waiting,"  urged  the  assistants. 

She  remained  doggedly  silent  for  two  or  three  minutes, 
casting  around  a  malignant  and  sulky  glance,  that  seemed  to 
enjoy  the  anxious  suspense  with  which  they  waited  her 
answer.  And  then  she  broke  forth  at  once — •'  A'  that  I  ken 
about  him  is,  that  he  was  neither  soldier  nor  gentleman,  but 
just  a  thief  and  a  blackguard,  like  maist  o'  yoursells,  dears. 
Wiiat  will  ye  gie  me  for  that  news,  now  ?  He  wad  hae 
served  the  G-ude  Town  lang  or  provost  or  bailie  wad  hae  fund 
that  out,  my  jo  ! " 

While  these  matters  were  in  discussion,  Madge  Wildfire 
entered,  and  lier  first  exclamation  was,  "  Eh  !  see  if  there  isna 
our  auld  ne'er-do-weel  deevil's  buckie  o'  aanither.  Hegh,  sirs  ! 
but  we  are  a  hopefu'  family,  to  be  twa  o'  us  in  the  guard  at 
ance.  But  there  were  better  days  wi^us  ance  :  we^e  there  na, 
mither  ?  " 

Old  Maggie's  eyes  had  glistened  with  something  like  an  ex- 
pression of  pleasure  when  she  saw  her  daughter  set  at  liberty. 
But  either  her  natural  affection,  like  that  of  the  tigress,  could 
not  be  displayed  without  a  strain  of  ferocity,  or  there  was 
something  in  the  ideas  which  Madge's  speech  awakened  that 
again  stirred  her  cross  and  savage  temper.  "  What  signifies 
what  we  were,  ye  street-raking  limmer  ! "  she  exclciimed,  push- 
ing her  daughter  before  her  to  the  door,  with  no  gentle  degree  of 
violence.  "  I'se  tell  thee  what  thou  is  now  :  thou's  a  crazed 
hellicat  Bess  o'  Bedlam,  that  sail  taste  naething  but  bread  and 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  188 

water  for  a  fortnight,  to  serve  ye  for  the  plague  ye  hae  gieu 
me ;  and  ower  gude  for  ye,  ye  idle  tawpie ! " 

Madge,  however,  escaped  from  her  mother  at  the  door,  ran 
back  to  tlie  foot  of  the  table,  dropped  a  very  low  and  fantastic 
courtesy  to  the  judge,  and  said,  with  a  giggling  laugh — "  Our 
minnie's  sair  mis-set,  after  her  ordinar,  sir.  She'll  hae  had 
some  quarrel  wi'  her  auld  gudeman — that's  Satan,  ye  ken,  sirs." 
This  explanatory  note  she  gave  in  a  low  confidential  tone,  and 
the  spectators  of  that  credulous  generation  did  not  hear  it  with- 
out an  involuntary  shudder.  "  The  gudeman  and  her  disna  aye 
gree  weel,  and  then  I  maun  pay  the  piper  ;  but  my  back's  broad 
eneugh  to  bear't  a',  an  if  she  hae  nae  havings,  that's  nae  reason 
why  wiser  folk  shoulclna  hae  some."  Here  another  deep  cour- 
tesy, when  the  ungracious  voice  of  her  mother  was  heard. 
"  Madge,  ye  limmer  !  If  I  come  to  fetch  ye  ! " 
"  Hear  till  her,"  said  Madge.  "  But  I'll  wun  out  a  gliff  the 
night  for  a'  that,  to  dance  in  the  moonlight,  when  her  and  the 
gudeman  will  be  whirrying  through  the  blue  lift  on  a  broom- 
shank,  to  see  Jean  Jap,  that  they  hae  putten  intill  the  Kirkcaldy 
tolbooth ;  ay,  they  will  hae  a  merry  sail  ower  Inchkeith,  and 
ower  a'  the  bits  o'  bonny  waves  that  are  poppling  and  plashing 
against  the  rocks  in  the  gowden  glimmer  o'  the  moon,  ye  ken. 
I'm  coming,  mither — I'm  coming,"  she  concluded,  on  hearing 
a  scuffle  at  the  door  betwixt  the  beldam  and  the  officers,  who 
were  endeavoring  to  prevent  her  re-entrance.  Madge  then 
waved  her  hand  wildly  towards  the  ceiling,  and  sung,  at  the 
topmost  pitch  of  her  voice — 

Up  in  the  air, 

On  my  bonny  gray  mare, 

And  I  see,  and  I  see,  and  I  see  her  yet ;" 

and  with  a  hop,  skip,  and  jump,  sprung  out  of  the  room,  as 
the  witches  of  Macbeth  used,  in  less  refined  days,  to  seem  to 
fly  upwards  from  the  stage. 

Some  weeks  intervened  before  Mr.  Middleburgh,  agreeably 
to  his  benevolent  resolution,  found  an  opportunity  of  taking 
a  walk  towards  St.  Leonard's,  in  order  to  discover  whether  it 
might  be  possible  to  obtain  the  evidence  hinted  at  in  the 
anonymous  letter  respecting  Effie  Deans. 

In  fact,  the  anxious  perquisitions  made  to  discover  the 
murderers  of  Porteous  occupied  the  attention  of  all  concerned 
with  the  administration  of  justice. 

In  the  course  of  these  inquiries,  two  eircurastances  hap- 


184  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

pened  material  to  our  story.  Butler,  after  a  close  investi- 
gation of  his  conduct,  was  declared  innocent  of  accession  to 
the  t^^ath  of  Porteous  ;  but,  as  having  been  present  during 
the  whole  transaction,  was  obliged  to  find  bail  not  to  quit 
his  usual  residence  at  Liberton,  that  he  might  appear  as  a 
witness  when  called  upon.  The  other  incident  regarded  the 
disappearance  of  Madge  Wildfire  and  her  mother  from  Edin- 
burgh. When  they  were  sought,  with  the  purpose  of  subject- 
ing them  to  some  further  interrogatories,  it  was  discovered 
by  Mr.  Sharpitlavv  that  they  had  eluded  the  observation  of  the 
police,  and  left  the  city  so  soon  as  dismissed  from  the  coun- 
cil-chamber.   No  efforts  could  trace  the  place  of  their  retreat. 

In  the  meanwhile,  the  excessive  indignation  of  the  council 
of  regency,  at  the  slight  put  upon  their  authority  by  the 
murder  of  Porteous,  had  dictated  measures,  in  which  their 
own  extreme  desire  of  detecting  the  actors  in  that  cori- 
spiracy  were  consulted,  in  preference  to  the  temper  of  the 
people  and  the  character  of  their  churchmen.  An  act  of 
parliament  was  hastily  passed,  offering  two  hundred  pounds 
reward  to  those  who  should  inform  against  any  person  con- 
cerned in  the  deed,  and  the  penalty  of  death,  by  a  very  un- 
usual and  severe  enactment,  was  denounced  against  those 
who  should  harbor  the  guilty.  But  what  was  cliiefly  ac- 
counted exceptionable,  was  a  clause,  appointing  the  act  to 
be  read  in  churches  by  the  officiating  clergyman,  on  the 
first  Sunday  of  every  month,  for  a  certain  period,  immedi- 
ately before  the  sermon.  The  ministers  who  should  refuse 
to  comply  with  this  injunction  were  declared,  for  the  first 
offense,  incapable  of  sitting  or  voting  in  any  church  judi- 
cature, and  for  the  second,  incapable  of  holding  any  ecclesi- 
astical preferment  in  Scotland. 

This  last  order  united  in  a  common  cause  those  who 
might  privately  rejoice  in  Porteous's  death,  though  they 
dared  not  vindicate  the  manner  of  it,  with  the  more  scru- 
pulous Presbyterians,  who  held  that  even  the  pronouncing 
the  name  of  the  *'  Lords  Spiritual*'  in  a  Scottish  pulpit  was 
quodaniniodo,  an  acknowledgment  of  Prelacy,  and  that  the 
injunction  of  the  legislature  was  an  interference  of  the  civil 
government  with  the  Jus  divinnm  of  Presbytery,  since  to 
the  General  Assembly  alone,  as  representing  the  invisible 
head  of  the  kirk,  belonged  to  the  sole  and  exclusive  right  of 
regulating  whatever  pertained  to  public  worship.  Very 
many  also,  of  different  political  or  religious  sentiments, 
and  therefore  not  much  moved  by  these  considerations, 
thought  they  saw,  in  so  violent  an  act  of  parliament,  a 
more  vindictive  spirit  than  became  the  legislature  of  a 
great  country,  and  somethino-  like  an  attempt  to  trample 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  185 

upon  the  rights  and  independence  of  Scotland.  The  various 
steps  adopted  for  punishing  the  city  of  Edinburgh,  by  taking 
away  her  charter  and  liberties,  for  what  a  violent  and  over- 
mastering mob  had  done  within  her  walls,  were  resented  by 
many,  who  thought  a  pretext  was  too  hastily  taken  for  degrad- 
ing the  ancient  metropolis  of  Scotland.  In  short,  there  was 
much  heart-burning,  discontent,  and  disaffection  occasioned 
by  these  ill-considered  measures.* 

Amidst  these  heats  and  dissensions,  the  trial  of  Effie 
Deans,  after  she  had  been  many  weeks  imprisoned,  was  at 
length  about  to  be  brought  forward,  and  Mr.  Middleburgh 
found  leisure  to  inquire  into  the  evidence  concerning  her. 
For  this  purpose,  he  chose  a  fine  day  for  his  walk  towards  her 
father's  house. 

The  excursion  into  the  country  was  somewhat  distant,  in 
the  opinion  of  a  burgess  of  those  days,  although  many  of  the 
present  inhabit  suburban  villas  considerably  beyond  the 
spot  to  which  we  allude.  Three-quarters  of  an  hour's  walk, 
however,  even  at  a  pace  of  magisterial  gravity,  conducted  our 
benevolent  office-bearer  to  the  Crags  of  St.  Leonard's,  and  the 
humble  mansion  of  David  Deans. 

The  old  man  was  seated  on  the  deas,  or  turf-seat,  at  the 
end  of  his  cottage,  busied  in  mending  his  cart-harness  with 
his  own  hands ;  for  in  those  days  any  sort  of  labor  which  re- 
quired a  little  more  skill  than  usual  fell  to  the  share  of  the 
goodman  himself,  and  that  even  when  he  was  well-to-pass  in 
the  world.  With  stern  and  austere  gravity  he  persevered  in 
his  task,  after  having  just  raised  his  head  to  notice  the  advance 
of  the  stranger.  It  would  have  been  impossible  to  have  dis- 
covered, from  his  countenance  and  manner,  the  internal  feel- 
ings of  agony  with  which  he  contended.  Mr.  Middleburgh 
waited  an  instant,  expecting  Deans  would  in  some  measure 
acknowledge  his  presence,  and  lead  into  conversation  ;  but,  as 
he  seemed  determined  to  remain  silent,  he  was  himself  obliged 
to  speak  first. 

"My  name  is  Middleburgh — Mr.  James  Middleburgh,  one 
of  the  present  magistrates  of  the  city  of  Edinburgh." 

'•'  It  may  be  sae,"  answered  Deans,  laconically,  and  with- 
out interrupting  his  labor. 

"  You  must  understand,"  he  continued,  'Hhat  the  duty 
of  a  magistrate  is  sometimes  an  unpleasant  one." 

"  It  may  be  sae,"  replied  David  ;  "I  hae  naething  to  say 
in  the  contrair ; "  and  he  was  again  doggedly  silent. 

''You  must  be  aware,"  pursued  the  magistrate,   "that 

*  See  The  Magistrates  and  the  Porteous  Mob.    Note  23. 


186  WAVERLET  NOVELS 

persons  in  my  situation  are  often^  obliged  to  make  painful 
and  disagreeable  inquiries  of  individuals,  merely  because  it 
is  their  bounden  duty." 

"It  may  be  sae,"  again  replied  Deans  ;  "I  hae  naething 
to  say  anent  it,  either  the  tae  way  or  the  toother.  But  I  do 
ken  there  was  ance  in  a  day  a  just  and  God-fearing  magis- 
tracy in  yon  town  o'  Edinburgh,  that  did  not  bear  the  sword 
in  vain,  but  were  a  terror  to  evil-doers,  and  a  praise  to  such 
as  kept  the  path.  In  the  glorious  days  of  auld  worthy 
faithfu'  Provost  Dick,*  when  there  was  a  true  and  faithfu' 
General  Assembly  of  the  Kirk,  walking  hand  in  hand  with 
the  real  noble  Scottish-hearted  barons,  and  with  the  magis- 
trates of  this  and  other  towns,  gentles,  burgesses,  and  com- 
mons of  all  ranks,  seeing  with  one  eye,  hearing  with  one  ear, 
and  upholding  the  ark  with  their  united  strength.  And 
then  folk  might  see  men  deliver  up  their  silver  to  the  state's 
use,  as  if  it  had  been  as  muckle  sclate  stanes.  My  father 
saw  them  toom  the  sacks  of  dollars  out  o'  Provost  Dick's 
window  intill  the  carts  that  carried  them  to  the  army  at 
Dunse  Law  ;  and  if  ye  winna  believe  his  testimony,  there  is 
the  window  itsell  still  standing  in  the  Luckenbooths — I  think 
it's  aclaith-merchant's  booth  the  dayf — at  the  airn  stanchells, 
five  doors  abune  Gossford's  Close.  But  now  we  haena  sic 
spirit  amang  us  ;  we  think  mair  about  the  warst  wally-draigle 
in  our  ain  byre  than  about  the  blessing  which  the  angel  of 
the  covenant  gave  to  the  Patriarch,  even  at  Peniel  and  Maha^ 
naim,  or  the  binding  obligation  of  our  national  vows  ;  and 
we  wad  rather  gie  a  pund  Scots  to  buy  an  unguent  to  clear 
our  auld  rannel-trees  and  our  beds  o'  the  English  bugs,  as 
they  ca'  them,  than  we  wad  gie  a  plack  to  rid  the  land  of 
the  swarm  of  Arminian  caterpillars,  Socinian  pismires,  and 
deistical  Miss  Katies,  that  have  ascended  out  of  the  bottom- 
less pit  to  plague  this  perverse,  insidious,  and  lukewarm 
generation.'* 

It  happened  to  Davie  Deans  on  this  occasion,  as  it  has 
done  to  many  other  habitual  orators,  when  once  he  became 
embarked  on  his  favorite  subject,  the  stream  of  his  own  en- 
thusiasm carried  him  forward  in  spite  of  his  mental  distress, 
while  his  well-exercised  memory  supplied  him  amply  with 
all  the  types  and  tropes  of  rhetoric  peculiar  to  his  sect  and 
cause. 

Mr.  Middleburgh  contented  himself  with  answering — "  All 
this  may  be  very  true,  my  friend  ;  but,  as  you  said  just  now, 

*  See  Sir  William  Dick  of  Braid.     Note  24. 

t  I  think  so  too ;  but  if  the  reader  be  curious,  he  may  consult 
Mr.  Chambers'8  Traditions  of  Edinburgh. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  VSl 

I  have  nothing  to  say  to  it  at  present,  either  one  way  or 
other.     You  have  two  daughters,  I  think,  Mr.  Deans  ?" 

The  old  man  winced,  as  one  whose  smarting  sore  is  sud- 
denly galled  ;  but  instantly  composed  himself,  resumed  the 
work  which,  in  the  heat  of  his  declamation,  he  had  laid 
down,  and  answered  with  sullen  resolution,  "■  Ae  daughter, 
sir — only  ane. " 

"I  understand  you/'  said  Mr,  Middleburgh  ;  "you  have 
only  one  daughter  here  at  home  with  you  ;  but  this  unfor- 
tunate girl  who  is  a  prisoner — she  is,  I  think,  your  youngest 
daughter  ?  " 

The  Presbyterian  sternly  raised  his  eyes.  "  After  the  world, 
and  according  to  the  flesh,  she  is  my  daughter  ;  but  when  she 
became  a  child  of  Belial,  and  a  company-keeper,  and  a  trader 
ill  guilt  and  iniquit}^  she  ceased  to  be  a  bairn  of  mine.'' 

"  Alas,  Mr.  Deans,"  said  Middleburgh,  sitting  down  by 
him  and  oideavoriug  to  take  his  hand,  which  the  old  man 
proudly  withdrew,  "we  are  ourselves  all  sinners;  and  the 
errors  of  our  offspring,  as  they  ought  not  to  surprise  us,  be- 
ing the  portion  which  they  derive  of  a  common  portion  of 
corruption  inherited  through  us,  so  they  do  not  entitle  us 
to  cast  them  off  because  they  have  lost  themselves." 

"  Sir,"  said  Deans,  impatiently,  "  I  ken  a'  that  as  weel  as 
— I  mean  to  say,"  he  resumed,  checking  the  irritation  he  felt 
at  being  schooled — a  discipline  of  the  mind  which  those 
most  ready  to  bestow  it  on  others  do  themselves  most  re- 
luctantly submit  to  receive — "  I  mean  to  say,  that  what  ye 
observe  may  be  just  and  reasonable  ;  but  I  hae  nae  freedom 
to  enter  into  my  ain  private  affairs  wi'  strangers.  And  now, 
in  this  great  national  emergency,  when  there's  the  Porteous 
Act  has  come  doun  frae  London,  that  is  a  deeper  blow  to  this 
poor  sinf  u'  kingdom  and  suffering  kirk  than  ony  that  has  been 
heard  of  since  the  foul  and  fatal  Test — at  a  time  like  this " 

"But,  goodman,"  interrupted  Mr.  Middleburgh,  '' jon 
must  think  of  your  own  household  first,  or  else  you  are  worse 
even  than  the  infidels." 

"  I  tell  ye.  Bailie  Middleburgh,"  retorted  David  Deans, 
"'  if  ye  be  a  bailie,  as  there  is  little  honor  in  beins:  ane  in 
these  evil  days — I  tell  ye,  I  heard  the  gracious  Saunders 
Peden — I  wotna  whan  it  was  ;  but  it  was  in  killing  time, 
when  the  plowers  were  drawing  alang  their  furrows  on  the 
back  of  the  Kirk  of  Scotland — I  heard  him  tell  his  hearers, 
gude  and  waled  Christians  they  were  too,  that  some  o'  them 
wad  greet  mair  for  a  bit  drowned  calf  or  stirk  than  for  a' 
the  defections  and  oppressions  of  the  day  ;  and  tliat  they 
were  some  o'  them  thinking  o'  ae  thing,  some  o'  anither,  and 


188  WA  VER L EF  NO VEL S 

there  was  Lady  Hundleslope  thinking  o'  greeting  Jock  at 
the  fireside  !  And  tlie  huly  confessed  in  my  hearing  that  a 
drow  of  anxiety  had  come  ower  her  for  her  son  that  she  had 
left  at  hame  of  a  decay.*     And  what  wad  he  hae  said  of  me,  if 

I  had  ceased  to  think  of  the  gude  cause  for  a  castaway — a 

It  kills  me  to  think  of  what  she  is  ! " 

"  But  the  life  of  your  child,  goodman — think  of  that ;  if 
her  life  could  be  saved,"  said  Middleburgh. 

"  Her  life  !  "  exclaimed  David.  "  I  wadna  gie  ane  o'  my 
gray  hairs  for  her  life,  if  her  gude  name  be  gane.  And  yet,'' 
said  he,  relenting  and  retracting  as  he  spoke,  "  I  wad  make 
the  nilfer,  Mr.  Middleburgh — 1  wad  gie  a'  these  gray  hairs 
that  she  has  brought  to  shame  and  sorrow — I  wad  gie  the 
auld  head  they  grow  on,  for  her  life,  and  that  she  might 
hae  time  to  amend  and  return,  for  what  hae  the  wicked 
beyond  the  breath  of  their  nostrils  ?  But  I'll  never  see  her 
mair.  No  !  that — that  I  am  determined  in — I'll  never  see  her 
mair  ! "  His  lips  continued  to  move  for  a  minute  after  his 
voice  ceased  to  be  heard,  as  if  he  were  repeating  the  same 
vow  internally. 

*'Well,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Middleburgh,  *' I  speak  to  you  as 
a  man  of  sense  ;  if  you  would  save  your  daughter's  life  you 
must  use  human  means." 

"  I  understand  what  you  mean  ;  but  Mr.  Novit,  who  is 
the  procurator  and  doer  of  an  honorable  person,  the  Laird 
of  Dumbiedikes,  is  to  do  what  carnal  wisdom  can  do  for  her 
in  the  circumstances.  Mysell  am  not  clear  to  trinquet  and 
traffic  wi'  courts  o'  justice,  as  they  are  now  constituted  ;  I 
have  a  tenderness  and  scruple  in  my  mind  anent  them." 

"  That  is  to  say,"  said  Middleburgh,  "  that  you  are  a  Ca- 
meronian,  and  do  not  acknowledge  the  authority  of  our  courts 
of  judicature,  or  present  government  ?" 

"  Sir,  under  your  favor,"  replied  David,  who  was  too  proud 
of  his  own  polemical  knowledge  to  call  himself  the  follower 
of  any  one,  "  ye  take  me  up  before  I  fall  down.  I  canna  see 
why  I  suld  be  termed  a  Cameronian,  especially  now  that  ye 
hae  given  the  name  of  that  famous  and  savory  sufferer,  not 
only  until  a  regimental  band  of  soldiers,  whereof  I  am  told 
many  can  now  curse,  swear,  and  use  profane  language  as  fastas 
ever  Richard  Cameron  could  preach  or  pray,  but  also  because 
ye  have,  in  as  far  as  it  is  in  your  power,  rendered  that 
martyr's  name  vain  and  contemptible,  by  pipes,  drums,  and 
fifes,  playing  the  vain  carnal  spring,  called  the  Cameronian 
Rant,  which  too  many  professors  of  religion  dance  to — a 
practice  maist  unbecoming  a  j^rofessor  to  dance  to  any  tune 
*  See  lAfe  of  Peden,  v.  111. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  189 

whatsoever,  more  especially  promiscuously,  that  is,  with  the 
female  sex.*  A  brutish  fashion  it  is,  whilk  is  the  begin- 
ning of  defection  with  many,  as  I  may  hae  as  muckle  cause 
as  maist  folk  to  testify." 

"  Well,  but,  Mr.  Deans,"  replied  Mr.  Middleburgh,  "  I 
only  meant  to  say  that  you  were  a  Cameronian,  or  Mac- 
Miilanite,  one  of  the  society  people,  in  short,  who  think  it 
inconsistent  to  take  oaths  under  a  government  where  the 
Covenant  is  not  ratified." 

"  Sir,"  replied  the  controversialist,  who  forgot  even  his 
present  distress  in  such  discussions  as  these,  "  you  cannot 
fickle  me  sae  easily  as  you  do  opine.  I  am  not  a  MacMil- 
lanite,  or  a  Eusselite,  or  a  Hamiltonian,  or  a  Harleyite,  or 
a  Howdenite  ;  f  I  will  be  led  by  the  nose  by  none  f  I  take 
my  name  as  a  Christian  from  no  vessel  of  clay.  I  have  my 
own  principles  and  practice  to  answer  for,  and  am  an  humble 
pleader  for  the  gude  auld  cause  in  a  legal  way." 

"That  is  to  say,  Mr.  Deans,"  said  Middleburgh,  "that 
you  are  Deanite,  and  have  ojiinions  peculiar  to  yourself." 

"  It  may  please  you  to  say  sae,"  replied  David  Deans  ; 
but  I  have  maintained  my  testimony  before  as  great  folk,  and 
in  sharper  times  ;  and  though  I  will  neither  exalt  myself  nor 
pull  down  others,  I  wish  every  man  and  woman  in  this  land 
had  kept  the  true  testimony,  and  the  middle  and  straight 
l^ath,  as  it  were,  on  the  ridge  of  a  hill,  where  wind  and  water 
shears,  avoiding  right-hand  snares  and  extremes  and  left- 
hand  way-slidings,  as  weel  as  Johnny  Dodds  of  Farthing's 
Acre  and  ae  man  mair  that  shall  be  nameless." 

"I  suppose,"  replied  the  magistrate,  "  that  is  as  much  as 
to  say,  that  Johnny  Dodds  of  Farthing's  Acre  and  David 
Deans  of  St.  Leonards  constitute  the  only  members  of  the 
true,  real,  unsophisticated  Kirk  of  Scotland  ?" 

"  God  forbid  that  I  suld  make  sic  a  vainglorious  speech, 
when  there  are  sae  mony  professing  Christians  I "  answered 
David  ;  "but  this  I  maun  say,  that  all  men  act  according  to 
their  gifts  and  their  grace,  sae  that  it  is  nae  marvel  that '' 

"This  is  all  very  fine,"  interrupted  Mr.  Middleburgh  j 
*'  but  I  have  no  time  to  spend  in  hearing  it.  The  matter  iu 
hand  is  this — I  have  directed  a  citation  to  be  lodged  in  your 
daugliter's  hands.  If  she  appears  on  the  day  of  trial  and 
gives  evidence,  there  is  reason  to  hope  that  she  may  save  her 
sister's  life  ;  if,  from  any  constrained  scruples  about  the 
legality  of  iier  performing  the  office  of  an  affectionate  sister 
and  a  good  subject,   by  appearing  in  a  court  held  under  the 

*■  See  note  to  Patrick  Walker. 
f  All  various  species  of  the  great  genus  Caraeronian. 


190  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

anthority  of  the  law  and  government,  you  become  the  means 
of  deterring  her  from  the  discharge  of  this  duty,  I  must 
say,  though  the  truth  may  sound  harsh  in  your  ears,  that 
you,  who  gave  life  to  this  unhappy  girl,  will  became  the 
means  of  her  losing  it  by  a  premature  and  violent  death/' 

So  saying  Mr.  Middleburgh  turned  to  leave  him. 

**  Bide  a  wee — bide  a  wee,  Mr.  Middleburgh,"  said  Deans  in 
great  perplexity  and  distress  of  mind  ;  but  the  bailie,  who  was 
probably  sensible  that  protracted  discussion  might  diminish 
the  effect  of  his  best  and  most  forcible  argument,  took  a  hasty 
leave,  and  declined  entering  farther  into  the  controversy. 

Deans  sunk  down  upon  his  seat,  stunned  with  a  variety  of 
conflicting  emotions.  It  had  been  a  great  source  of  contro- 
versy among  those  holding  his  opinions  in  religious  matters, 
how  far  the  government  which  succeeded  the  Revolution 
could  be,  without  sin,  acknowledged  by  true  Presbyterians, 
seeing  that  it  did  not  recognize  the  great  national  testimony 
of  the  Solemn  League  and  Covenant.  And  latterly,  those 
agreeing  in  this  general  doctrine,  and  assuming  the  sound- 
ing title  of  the  anti-Popish,  anti-Prelatic,  anti-Erastian, 
anti-Sectarian,  true  Presbyterian  remnant,  were  divided  into 
many  petty  sects  among  themselves,  even  as  to  the  extent  of 
submission  to  the  existing  laws  and  rulers  which  constituted 
such  an  acknowledgment  as  amounted  to  sin. 

At  a  very  stormy  and  tumultous  meeting,  held  in  1683,  to 
discuss  these  important  and  delicate  points,  the  testimonies  of 
the  faithful  few  were  found  utterly  inconsistent  with  each 
other.*  The  place  where  this  conference  took  place  was  re- 
markably well  adapted  for  such  an  assembly.  It  was  a  wild 
and  very  sequestered  dell  in  Tweeddale,  surrounded  by  high 
hills,  and  far  removed  from  human  habitation.  A  small 
river,  or  rather  a  mountain  torrent,  called  the  Talla,  breaks 
down  the  glen  with  great  fury,  dashing  successively  over  a 
number  of  small  cascades,  which  has  procured  the  spot  the 
name  of  Talla  Linns.  Here  the  leaders  among  the  scattered 
adherents  to  the  Covenant,  men  who,  in  their  banishment 
from  human  society,  and  in  the  recollection  of  the  severities 
to  which  they  had  been  exposed,  had  become  at  once  sullen 
in  their  tempers  and  fantastic  in  their  religious  opinions, 
met  with  arms  in  their  hands  and  by  the  side  of  the  torrent 
discussed,  with  a  turbulence  which  the  noise  of  the  stream 
could  not  drown,  points  of  controversy  as  empty  and  un- 
substantial as  its  foam. 

It  was  the  fixed  judgment  of  most  of  the  meeting,  that  all 
payment  of  cess  or  tribute  to  the  existing  government  was 
*See  Meeting  at.  TaUa  Linne.    Note  2d. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  19i 

ntterly  unlawful,  and  a  sacrificing  to  idols.  About  other 
impositions  and  degrees  of  submission  there  were  various 
opinions  ;  and  perhaps  it  is  the  best  illustration  of  the  spirit 
of  those  military  fathers  of  the  church  to  say,  that  while  all 
allowed  it  was  impious  to  pay  the  cess  employed  for  main- 
taining the  standing  army  and  militia,  there  was  a  fierce 
controversy  on  the  lawfulness  of  paying  the  duties  levied  at 
ports  and  bridges,  for  maintaining  roads  and  other  necessary 
purposes  that  there  were  some  who,  repugnant  to  these  im- 
posts for  turnpikes  and  pontages,  were  nevertheless  free  in 
conscience  to  make  payment  of  the  usual  freight  at  public 
ferries,  and  that  a  person  of  exceeding  and  punctilious  zeal, 
James  Russel,  one  of  the  slayers  of  the  Archbishop  of  St. 
Andrews,  had  given  his  testimony  with  great  warmth  even 
against  this  last  faint  shade  of  subjection  to  constituted 
authority.  This  ardent  and  enlightened  person  and  his 
followers  had  also  great  scruples  about  the  lawfulness  of  be- 
stowing the  ordinary  names  upon  the  days  of  the  week  and 
the  months  of  the  year,  which  savored  in  their  nostrils  so 
strongly  of  paganism,  that  at  length  they  arrived  at  the 
conclusion  that  they  who  owned  such  names  as  Mon- 
day, Tuesday,  January,  February,  and  so  forth,  "served 
themselves  heirs  to  the  same,  if  not  greater,  punishment 
than  had  been  denounced  against  the  idolaters  of  old." 

David  Deans  had  been  present  on  this  memorable  occasion, 
although  too  young  to  be  a  speaker  among  the  polemical 
combatants.  His,  brain,  however,  had  been  thoroughly 
heated  by  the  noise,  clamor,  and  metaphysical  ingenuity  of 
the  discussion,  and  it  was  a  controversy  to  which  his  mind 
had  often  returned  ;  and  though  he  carefully  disguised  his 
vacillation  from  others,  and  perhaps  from  himself,  he  had 
never  been  able  to  come  to  any  precise  line  of  decision  on  the 
subject.  lu  fact,  his  natural  sense  had  acted  as  a  counterpoise 
to  his  controversial  zeal.  He  was  by  no  means  pleased  with 
the  quiet  and  indifferent  manner  in  which  King  William's 
government  slurred  over  the  errors  of  the  times,  when,  far 
from  restoring  the  Presbyterian  Kirk  to  its  former  suprem- 
acy, they  passed  an  act  of  oblivion  even  to  those  who  had 
been  its  persecutors,  and  bestowed  on  many  of  them  titles, 
favors,  and  employments.  When,  in  the  first  General 
Assembly  which  succeeded  the  Revolution,  an  overture  was 
made  for  the  revival  of  the  League  and  Covenant,  it  was 
with  horror  that  Douce  David  heard  the  proposal  eluded  by 
the  men  of  carnal  wit  and  policy,  as  he  called  them,  as  being 
inapplicable  to  the  present  times,  and  not  falling  under  the 
modern  model  of  the  church.     The  reign  of  Queen  Anne 


198  WA  VERLET  NO  VEL8 

had  increased  his  conviction  that  tlie  Revohition  government 
was  xiot  one  of  the  true  Presbyterian  complexion.  But  then, 
more  sensible  than  the  bigots  of  his  sect,  he  did  not  confound 
the  moderation  and  tolerance  of  these  two  reigns  with  the 
active  tyranny  and  oppression  exercised  in  those  of  Charles 
II.  and  James  II.  The  Presbyterian  form  of  religion, 
though  deprived  of  the  weight  formerly  attached  to 
its  sentences  and  excommunications,  and  compelled  to 
tolerate  the  co-existence  of  the  Episcopacy,  and  of  sects 
of  various  descriptions,  was  still  the  National  Church  ;  and 
though  the  glory  of  the  second  temple  was  far  inferior  to  that 
which  had  flourished  from  1639  till  the  battle  of  Dunbar, 
still  it  was  a  structure  that,  wanting  the  strength  and  the 
.terrors,  retained  at  least  the  form  and  symmetry,  of  the 
original  model.  Then  came  the  insurrection  of  1715,  and 
David  Deans's  horror  for  the  revival  of  the  popish  andpre- 
latical  faction  reconciled  him  greatly  to  the  government  of 
King  George,  although  he  grieved  that  that  monarch  might 
be  suspected  of  a  leaning  unto  Erastianism.  In  short,  moved 
by  so  many  different  considerations,  he  had  shifted  his  ground 
at  different  times  concerning  the  degree  of  freedom  which 
he  felt  in  adopting  any  act  of  immediate  acknowledgment 
or  submission  to  the  present  government,  which,  however 
mild  and  paternal,  was  still  uncovenanted  ;  and  now  he  felt 
himself  called  upon  by  the  most  powerful  motive  conceiv- 
able to  authorize  his  daughter's  giving  testimony  in  a  court 
of  justice,  which  all  who  have  since  been  called  Camero- 
nians  accounted  a  step  of  lamentable  and  direct  defection. 
The  voice  of  nature,  however,  exclaimed  loud  in  his  bosom 
against  the  dictates  of  fanaticism  ;  and  his  imagination, 
fertile  in  the  solution  of  polemical  difficulties,  devised  an 
expedient  for  extricating  himself  from  the  fearful  dilemma, 
in  which  he  saw,  on  the  one  side,  a  falling  off  from  prin- 
ciple, and  on  the  other,  a  scene  from  which  a  father's 
thoughts  could  not  but  turn  in  shuddering  horror. 

"1  have  been  constant  and  unchanged  in  my  testimony," 
said  David  Deans  ;  "  but  then  who  has  said  it  of  me,  that  I 
have  judged  my  neighbor  over  closely,  because  he  hath  had 
more  freedom  in  his  walk  than  I  have  found  in  mine  ?  I 
never  was  a  separatist,  nor  for  quarreling  with  tender  souls 
about  mint,  cummin,  or  other  the  lesser  tithes.  My  daughter 
Jean  may  have  a  light  in  this  subject  that  is  hid  frae  my 
auld  een  ;  it  is  laid  on  her  conscience,  and  not  on  mine.  If 
she  hath  freedom  to  gang  before  the  judiciary,  and  hold  up  her 
hand  for  tliis  poor  castaway,  surely  I  will  not  say  shestcppeth 
over  her  bounds  ;  and  if  not "    He  paused  in  his  mental 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  193 

argument,  while  a  pang  of  unntterable  anguish  convulsed 
his  features,  yet,  shaking  it  off,  he  firmly  resumed  the  strain 
of  his  reasoning — "And  if  not,  God  forbid  that  she  should 
go  into  defection  at  bidding  of  mine  !  I  wunna  fret  the  ten- 
der conscience  of  one  bairn — no,  not  to  save  the  life  of  tlie 
other/' 

A  Eoman  would  have  devoted  his  daughter  to  death  from 
different  feelings  and  motives,  but  not  upon  a  more  heroi" 
principle  of  duty. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

To  man,  in  this  his  trial  state. 

The  privilege  is  given, 
When  tost  by  tides  of  human  fate. 

To  anchor  fast  on  heaven. 

Watts's  Hymns. 

It  was  "vrith  a  firm  step  that  Deans  sought  his  daughter's 
apartment,  determined  to  leave  her  to  tlie  light  of  her  own 
conscience  in  the  dubious  point  of  casuistry  in  which  he  sup- 
posed her  to  be  placed. 

The  little  room  had  been  the  sleej)ing-apartment  of  both 
sisters,  and  there  still  stood  there  a  small  occasional  bed  which 
had  been  made  for  Efl&e's  accommodation,  when,  complaining 
of  illness,  she  had  declined  to  share,  as  in  happier  times,  her 
sister's  pillow.  The  eyes  of  Deans  rested  involuntarily,  on 
entering  tlie  room,  upon  this  little  couch,  with  its  dark  green 
coarse  curtains,  and  the  ideas  connected  with  it  rose  so  thick 
upon  his  soul  as  almost  to  incapacitate  him  from  opening  his 
errand  to  his  daughter.  Her  occupation  broke  the  ice.  He 
found  her  gazing  on  a  slip  of  paper,  which  contained  a  cita- 
tion to  her  to  appear  as  a  witness  upon  her  sister's  trial  in  be- 
half of  the  accused.  For  the  worthy  magistrate,  determined 
to  omit  no  chance  of  doing  Effie  justice,  and  to  leave  her  sis- 
ter no  apology  for  not  giving  tlie  evidence  which  she  was  sup- 
posed to  possess,  had  caused  the  ordinary  citation,  or  subpcena, 
of  tlie  Scottish  criminal  court,  to  be  served  upon  her  by  an 
otlicer  during  his  conference  with  David. 

Tliis  precaution  was  so  far  favorable  to  Deans,  that  it  saved 
him  the  pain  of  entering  upon  a  formal  explanation  with  his 
daughter  ;  he  only  said,  with  a  hollow  and  tremulous  voice, 
"I  perceive  ye  are  aware  of  the  matter." 

"0  father,  we  are  cruelly  sted  between  God's  laws  and 
man's  laws.      "What  shall  we  do  ?     AVhat  can  we  do  ?  " 

Jeanie,  it  must  be  observed,  had  no  hesitation  what- 
ever about  the  mere  act  of  appearing  in  a  court  of  justice. 
She  might  have  heard  the  point  discussed  by  her  father  more 
than  once  ;  but  we  have  already  noticed,  that  she  was  accus- 
tomed to  listen  with  reverence  to  much  which  she  was  inca- 

194 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  195 

pable  of  nnderstanding,  and  that  subtle  arguments  of  casuis- 
try found  her  a  patient  but  unedilied  hearer.  Upon  receiving 
the  citation,  therefore,  her  thoughts  did  not  turn  upon  the  chi- 
merical scruples  which  alarmed  her  father's  mind,  but  to  the 
language  which  had  been  held  to  her  by  the  stranger  at  Mus- 
chat's  Cairn.  In  a  word,  she  never  doubted  but  she  was  to 
be  dragged  forward  into  the  court  of  justice,  in  order  to  place 
her  in  the  cruel  position  of  either  sacrificing  her  sister  by 
telling  the  truth,  or  committing  perjury  in  order  to  save  her 
life.  And  so  strongly  did  her  thoughts  run  in  this  channel 
that  she  applied  her  father's  words,  "Ye  are  aware  of  the 
matter,"  to  his  acquaintance  with  the  advice  that  had  been 
so  fearfully  enforced  upon  her.  She  looked  up  with  anxious 
surprise,  not  unmingled  with  a  cast  of  horror,  which  his  next 
words,  as  she  interpreted  and  applied  them,  were  not  quali- 
fied to  remove. 

"  Daughter,"  said  David,  "  it  has  ever  been  my  mind, 
that  in  tilings  of  ane  doubtful  and  controversial  nature  ilk 
Christian's  conscience  suld  be  his  ain  guide.  Wherefore  de- 
scend mto  yourself,  try  your  ain  mind  with  sufficiency  of  soul 
exercise,  and  as  you  sail  finally  find  yourself  clear  to  do  in 
this  matter,  even  so  be  it." 

"  But,  father,"  said  Jeanie,  whose  mind  revolted  at  the 
construction  which  she  naturally  put  upon  his  language, 
"can  this — this  be  a  doubtful  or  controversial  matter? 
Mind,  father,  the  ninth  command — '  Thou  shalt  not  bear 
false  witness  against  thy  neighbor.'" 

David  Deans  paused  ;  for,  still  applying  her  speech  to  his 
preconceived  difficulties,  it  seemed  to  him  as  if  she,  a  woman 
and  a  sister,  was  scarce  entitled  to  be  scrupulous  upon  this 
occasion,  where  lie,  a  man,  exercised  in  the  testimonies  of 
that  testifying  period,  had  given  indirect  countenance  to  her 
following  what  must  have  been  the  natural  dictates  of  her  own 
feelings.  But  he  kept  firm  his  purpose,  until  his  eyes  invol- 
untarily rested  upon  tlie  little  settle-bed,  and  recalled  the 
form  of  the  child  of  his  old  age,  as  she  sat  upon  it,  pale, 
emaciated,  and  broken-hearted.  His  mind,  as  the  picture 
arose  before  him,  involuntarily  conceived,  and  his  tongue  in- 
voluntarily uttered — but  in  a  tone  how  different  from  his 
usual  dogmatical  precision  ! — arguments  for  the  course  of  con- 
duct likely  to  insure  his  child's  safety. 

"Daughter,"  he  said,  "  I  did  not  say  that  your  path  was 
free  from  stumbling  ;  and,  questionless,  this  act  may  be  in 
the  opinion  of  some  a  transgression,  since  he  who  beareth 
witness  unlawfully,  and  against  his  conscience,  doth  in  some 


196  WAVERLEV  NOVELS 

sort  wear  false  witness  against  his  neighbor.  Yet  in  matters 
of  compliance,  the  guilt  iietli  not  in  the  compliance  sae 
muckle  as  in  the  mind  and  conscience  of  him  that  doth  com- 
ply ;  and,  therefore,  although  my  testimony  hath  not  been 
spared  upon  public  defections,  I  haena  felt  freedom  to  sep- 
arate mysell  from  the  communion  of  many  who  have  been 
clear  to  hear  those  ministers  who  have  taken  the  fatal  indul- 
gence, because  they  might  get  good  of  them,  though  I  could 
not." 

When  David  had  proceeded  thus  far,  his  conscience  re- 
proved him,  that  he  might  be  indirectly  undermining  the 
purity  of  his  daughter's  faith,  and  smoothing  the  way  for  her 
falling  off  from  strictness  of  principle.  He,  therefore,  sud- 
denly stopped,  and  changed  his  tone  :  "  Jeanie,  I  perceive 
that  our  vile  affections — so  I  call  them  in  respect  of  doing  the 
will  of  our  Father — cling  too  heavily  to  me  in  this  hour  of 
trying  sorrow,  to  permit  me  to  keep  sight  of  my  ain  duty,  or 
to  airt  you  to  yours.  I  will  speak  nae  mair  anent  this  over- 
trying  matter.  Jeanie,  if  ye  can,  wi'  God  and  gude  con- 
science, speak  in  favor  of  this  puir  unhappy [Here  his 

voice  faltered.]  She  is  your  sister  in  the  flesh  :  worthless 
and  castaway  as  she  is,  she  is  the  daughter  of  a  saint  in  heaven, 
that  was  a  mother  to  you,  Jeanie,  in  place  of  your  ain  ;  but 
if  ye  arena  free  in  conscience  to  speak  for  her  in  the  court  of 
judicature,  follow  your  conscience,  Jeanie,  and  let  God's  will 
be  done."  After  this  adjuration  he  left  the  apartment,  and 
his  daughter  remained  in  a  state  of  great  distress  and  per- 
plexity. 

It  would  have  been  no  small  addition  to  the  sorrows  of 
David  Deans,  even  in  this  extremity  of  suffering,  had  h_^ 
known  that  his  daughter  was  applying  the  casuistical  argu- 
ments which  he  had  been  using,  not  in  the  sense  of  a  permis- 
sion to  follow  her  own  opinion  on  a  dubious  and  disputed 
point  of  controversy,  but  rather  as  an  encouragement  to  trans- 
gress one  of  those  divine  commandments  which  Christians  of 
all  sects  and  denominations  unite  in  holding  most  sacred. 

"Can  this  be  ?"  said  Jeanie,  as  the  door  closed  on  her 
father — "  can  these  be  his  words  that  I  have  heard,  or  has  the 
Enemy  taken  his  voice  and  features  to  give  weight  unto  the 
counsel  which  causeth  to  perish  ?  A  sister's  life,  and  a  father 
pointing  out  how  to  save  it  !  0  God  deliver  me  !  this  is  a 
fearfu'  temptation." 

Roaming  from  thought  to  thought,  she  at  one  time  im- 
agined her  father  understood  the  ninth  commandment  literal- 
ly, as  prohibiting  false  witness  against  our  neighbor,  without 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  197 

extending  the  denunciation  against  falsehood  uttered  in  favor 
of  tlie  criminal.  But  her  clear  and  unsophisticated  power  of 
discriminating  between  good  and  evil  iiistantly  rejected  an 
interpretation  so  limited  and  so  unworthy  of  the  Author  of 
the  law.  She  remained  in  a  state  of  the  most  agitating  terror 
and  uncertainty — afraid  to  communicate  her  thoughts  freely 
to  her  father,  lest  she  should  draw  forth  an  opinion  with 
vhich  she  could  not  comply ;  wrung  with  distress  on  her  sis- 
ter's account,  rendered  the  more  acute  by  reflecting  that  the 
means  of  saving  her  were  in  her  power,  but  were  such  as  her 
conscience  prohibited  her  from  using  ;  tossed,  in  short,  like  a 
vessel  in  an  open  roadstead  during  a  storm,  and,  like  that 
vessel,  resting  on  one  only  sure  cable  and  anchor — faith  in 
Providence,  and  a  resolution  to  discharge  her  duty. 

Butler's  affection  and  strong  sense  of  religion  would  have 
been  her  principal  support  in  these  distressing  circumstances, 
but  he  was  still  under  restraint,  which  did  not  permit  him 
to  come  to  St.  Leonard's  Crags  ;  and  her  distresses  were  of  a 
nature  which,  with  her  indifferent  habits  of  scholarship,  she 
found  it  impossible  to  express  in  writing.  She  was  therefore 
compelled  to  trust  for  guidance  to  her  own  unassisted  sense 
of  what  was  right  or  wrong. 

It  was  not  the  least  of  Jeanie's  distresses  that,  although 
she  hoped  and  believed  her  sister  to  be  innocent,  she  had  not 
the  means  of  receiving  that  assurance  from  her  own  mouth. 

The  double-dealing  of  Ratcliffe  in  the  matter  of  Robertson 
had  not  prevented  his  l)eing  rewarded,  as  double-dealers  fre- 
quently have  been,  with  favor  and  preferment.  Sharpitlaw, 
who  found  in  him  something  of  a  kindred  genius,  had  been 
intercessor  in  his  behalf  with  the  magistrates,  and  the  cir- 
cumstance of  his  having  voluntarily  remained  in  the  prison, 
when  the  doors  were  forced  by  the  mob,  would  have  made  it 
a  hard  measure  to  take  the  life  which  he  had  such  easy  means 
of  saving.  He  received  a  full  pardon  ;  and  soon  afterwards, 
James  Ratcliffe,  the  greatest  thief  and  housebreaker  in  Scot- 
land, was,  upon  the  faith,  perhaps,  of  an  ancient  proverb, 
selected  as  a  person  to  be  intrusted  with  the  custody  of  other 
delinquents. 

When  Ratcliffe  was  thus  placed  in  a  confidential  situation, 
he  was  repeatedly  applied  to  by  the  sapient  Saddletree  and 
others  who  took  some  interest  in  the  Deans  family,  to  procure 
an  interview  between  the  sisters  ;  but  the  magistrates,  who 
were  extremely  anxious  for  the  apprehension  of  Robertson, 
had  given  strict  orders  to  the  contrary,  hoping  that,  by  keep- 
ing them  separate,  they  might,  from  the  one  or  the  other,  ex« 


198  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

tract  some  information  respecting  that  fugitive.  On  this  sub- 
ject Jeanie  had  nothing  to  tell  them.  She  informed  Mr. 
Middleburgh  that  she  knew  nothing  of  Eobertson,  except 
having  met  him  that  night  by  appointment  to  give  her  some 
advice  resjaecting  her  sister's  concern,  the  purport  of  which, 
she  said,  was  betwixt  God  and  her  conscience.  Of  his  motions, 
purposes,  or  plans,  past,  present,  or  future,  she  knew  nothing, 
and  so  had  nothing  to  communicate. 

EflBe  was  equally  silent,  though  from  a  different  cause.  It 
was  in  vain  that  they  offered  a  commutation  and  alleviation 
of  her  punishment,  and  even  a  free  pardon,  if  she  would  con- 
fess what  slie  knew  of  her  lover.  She  answered  only  with 
tears  ;  unless,  when  at  times  driven  into  pettish  sulkiness  by 
tlie  persecution  of  the  interrogators,  she  made  them  abrupt 
and  disrespectful  answers. 

At  length,  after  her  trial  had  been  delayed  for  many  weeks, 
in  hopes  she  might  be  induced  to  speak  out  on  a  subject 
infinitely  more  interesting  to  the  magistracy  than  her  own 
guilt  or  innocence,  their  patience  was  worn  out,  and  even  Mr. 
Middleburgh  finding  no  ear  lent  to  further  intercession  in  her 
behalf,  the  day  was  fixed  for  the  trial  to  proceed. 

It  was  now,  and  not  sooner,  that  Sharpitlaw,  recollecting 
his  promise  to  Effie  Deans,  or  rather  being  dinned  into  com- 
pliance by  the  unceasing  remonstrances  of  Mrs.  Saddletree, 
who  was  his  next-door  neighbor,  and  who  declared  "it  was 
heathen  cruelty  to  keep  the  twa  broken-hearted  creatures  sep- 
arate," issued  the  important  mandate  permitting  them  to  see 
each  other. 

On  the  evening  which  preceded  the  eventful  day  of  trial, 
Jeanie  was  permitted  to  see  her  sister — an  awful  interview, 
and  occurring  at  a  most  distressing  crisis.  This,  however, 
formed  a  part  of  the  bitter  cup  which  she  was  doomed  to 
drink,  to  atone  for  crimes  and  follies  to  which  she  had  no  ac- 
cession ;  and  at  twelve  o'clock  noon,  being  the  time  appointed 
for  admission  to  the  jail,  she  went  to  meet,  for  the  first  time 
for  several  months,  her  guilty,  erring,  and  most  miserabld 
sister,  in  that  abode  of  guilt,  error,  and  utter  misery. 


CHAPTER  XX 

Sweet  sister,  let  me  live  I 
"What  sin  you  do  to  save  a  brother's  life, 
Nature  dispenses  with  the  deed  so  far, 
That  it  becomes  a  virtue. 

Measure  for  Measure. 

Jeanie  Deans  was  admitted  into  the  jail  by  Ratcliffe.  This 
fellow,  as  void  of  shame  as  of  honesty,  as  he  opened  the  now 
trebly  secured  door,  asked  her,  with  a  leer  which  made  her 
shudder,  "  whether  she  remembered  him  ?" 

A  half -pronounced  and  timid  "  No  "  was  her  answer.  - 

"  What  !  not  remember  moonlight,  and  Muschat's  Cairn, 
and  Eob  and  Rat  ?"  said  he,  with  the  same  sneer.  "Your 
memory  needs  redding  up,  my  jo." 

If  Jeanie's  distresses  had  admitted  of  aggravation,  it  must 
have  been  to  find  her  sister  vinder  the  charge  of  such  a  prof- 
ligate as  this  man.  He  was  not,  indeed,  without  something 
of  good  to  balance  so  much  that  was  evil  in  his  character  and 
habits.  In  his  misdemeanors  he  had  never  been  bloodthirsty 
or  cruel ;  and  in  his  present  occupation  he  had  shown  himself, 
in  a  certain  degree,  accessible  to  touches  of  humanity.  But 
these  good  qualities  were  unknown  to  Jeanie,  who,  remember- 
ing the  scene  at  Muschat's  Cairn,  could  scarce  find  voice  to 
acquaint  him  that  she  had  an  order  from  Bailie  Middleburgh, 
permitting  her  to  see  her  sister. 

"  I  ken  that  fu'  weel,  my  bonny  doo  ;  mair  by  token  I  have 
a  special  charge  to  stay  in  the  ward  with  you  a'  the  time  ye 
are  thegither." 

"Must  that  be  sae?"  asked  Jeanie,  with  an  imploring 
voice. 

"  Hout,  ay,  hinny,"  replied  the  turnkey ;  "  and  what  the 
waur  will  you  and  your  tittle  be  of  Jim  Ratcliffe  hearing  what 
ye  hae  to  say  to  ilk  other  ?  Deil  a  word  ye'"ll  say  that  will 
gar  him  keri  your  kittle  sex  better  than  he  kens  them  already  ; 
and  another  thing  is,  that,  if  ye  dinna  speak  o'  breaking  the 
tolbooth,  deil  a  word  will  I  tell  ower,  either  to  do  ye  good 
pr  ill.'' 

.196 


200  WAVERLEV  NOVELS 

Thus  saying,  Ratcliffe  marslialled  her  the  way  to  the  apart- 
ment where  Effie  was  confined. 

Shame,  fear,  and  grief  had  contended  for  mastery  in  the 
poor  prisoner's  bosom  during  the  whole  morning,  while  she 
had  looked  forward  to  this  meeting;  but  when  the  door 
opened,  all  gave  way  to  a  confused  and  strange  feeling  that 
had  a  tinge  of  joy  in  it,  as,  throwing  herself  on  her  sister's 
neck,  she  ejaculated,  "My  dear  Jeanie  !  mydear  Jeanie  !  it's 
lang  since  I  hae  seen  ye."  Jeanie  returned  the  embrace  with 
an  earnestness  that  partook  almost  of  rapture,  but  it  was  only 
a  flitting  emotion  like  a  sunbeam  unexpectedly  penetrating 
betwixt  the  clouds  of  a  tempest,  and  obscured  almost  as  soon 
as  visible.  The  sisters  walked  together  to  the  side  of  the  pal- 
let bed,  and  sat  down  side  by  side,  took  hold  of  each  other's 
hands,  and  looked  each  other  in  the  face,  but  without  speak- 
ing a  word.  In  this  posture  they  remained  for  a  minute,  while 
the  gleam  of  joy  gradually  faded  from  their  features,  and 
gave  way  to  the  most  intense  expression,  first  of  melancholy, 
and  then  of  agony,  till,  throwing  themselves  again  into  each 
other's  arms,  they,  to  use  the  language  of  Scripture,  lifted  up 
their  voices  and  wept  bitterly. 

Even  the  hard-hearted  turnkey,  who  had  spent  his  life  in 
scenes  calculated  to  stifle  both  conscience  and  feeling,  could 
not  witness  this  scene  without  a  touch  of  human  sympathy. 
It  was  shown  in  a  trifling  action,  but  which  had  more  delicacy 
in  it  than  seemed  to  belong  to  Ratcliiie's  character  and  sta- 
tion. The  unglazed  window  of  the  miserable  chamber  was 
open,  and  the  beams  of  a  bright  sun  fell  right  upon  the  bed 
where  the  sufferers  were  seated.  With  a  gentleness  that  had 
something  of  reverence  in  it,  Ratcliffe  partly  closed  the  shut- 
ter, and  seemed  thus  to  throw  a  veil  over  a  scene  so  sorrowful. 

"  Ye  are  ill,  Effie,"  were  the  first  words  Jeanie  could  utter 
— "  ye  are  very  ill." 

'"0,  what  wad  I  gie  to  be  ten  times  waur,  Jeanie  !"  was 
the  reply — "what  wad  I  gie  to  be  cauld  dead  afore  the  ten 
o'clock  bell  the  morn  !  And  our  father — but  I  am  his  bairn 
nae  langer  now  !  0,  I  hae  nae  friend  left  in  the  warld  !  0 
that  I  were  lying  dead  at  ray  mother's  side  in  Newbattle  kirk- 
yard!" 

"Hout,  lassie,"  said  Ratcliffe,  willing  to  show  the  interest 
which  he  absolutely  felt,  "dinna  be  sae  dooms  down-hearted 
as  a'  that ;  there's  mony  a  tod  hunted  that's  no  killed.  Ad- 
vocate Langtale  has  brought  folk  through  waur  snappers  than 
a'  this,  and  there's  no  a  cleverer  agent  than  Nichil  Novit  e'er 
drew  a  bill  of  suspension.     Hanged  or  unhanged,  they  are 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  201 

w^eel  aff  has  sic  an  agent  and  counsel  ;  ane's  sure  o'  fair  play. 
Ye  are  a  bonny  lass,  too,  an  ye  wad  busk  ujj  your  cocker- 
nonie  a  bit ;  and  a  bonny  lass  will  find  favor  wi'  judge  and 
jury,  when  they  would  strap  up  a  grewsome  carle  like  me  for 
the  fifteenth  part  of  a  flea's  hide  and  tallow,  d— n  them." 

To  this  homely  strain  of  consolation  the  mourners  returned 
no  answer  ;  indeed,  they  were  so  much  lost  in  their  own  sor- 
rows as  to  have  become  insensible  of  Eatcliffe's  presence. 
*' 0,  Effie,"  said  her  elder  sister,  "how  could  you  conceal 
your  situation  from  me  ?  0,  woman,  had  I  deserved  this  at 
your  hand  ?  Had  ye  spoke  but  ae  word — sorry  we  might 
hae  been,  and  shamed  we  might  hae  been,  but  this  awfu'  dis- 
pensation had  never  come  ower  us." 

"  And  what  gude  wad  that  hae  dune  ? "  answered  the 
prisoner.  "Na,  na,  Jeanie,  a'  was  ower  when  ance  I  forgot 
what  I  promised  when  I  faulded  down  the  leaf  of  my  Bible. 
See,"  she  said,  producing  the  sacred  volume,  "the  book  opens 
aye  at  the  place  o'  itsell.  0  see,  Jeanie,  what  a  fearfu'  script- 
ure !" 

Jeanie  took  her  sister's  Bible,  and  found  that  the  fatal 
mark  was  made  at  this  impressive  text  in  the  Book  of  Job  : 
"  He  hath  stripped  me  of  my  glory,  and  taken  the  crown  from 
my  head.  He  hath  destroyed  me  on  every  side,  and  I  am 
gone.     And  mine  hope  hath  he  removed  like  a  tree." 

"  Isna  that  ower  true  a  doctrine  ?  "  said  the  prisoner :  *'  isna 
my  crown,  my  honor  removed  ?  And  what  am  I  but  a  poor 
wasted,  wan-thriven  tree,  dug  up  by  the  roots  and  flung  out 
to  waste  in  the  highway,  that  man  and  beast  may  tread  it  un- 
der foot  ?  I  thought  o'  the  bonny  bit  thorn  that  our  father 
rooted  out  o'  the  yard  last  May,  when  it  had  &'  the  flush  o' 
blossoms  on  it ;  and  then  it  lay  in  the  court  till  the  beasts  had 
trod  them  a'  to  pieces  wi'  their  feet.  I  little  thought,  when  I 
was  wae  for  the  bit  silly  green  bush  and  its  flowers,  that  I  was 
to  gang  the  same  gate  mysell." 

"  0,  if  ye  had  spoken  a  word,"  again  sobbed  Jeanie — "if 
I  were  free  to  swear  that  ye  had  said  but  ae  word  of  how 
it  stude  wi'  ye,  they  couldna  hae  touched  your  life  this 
day." 

"  Could  they  na  ?  "  said  Effie,  with  something  like  awakened 
interest,  for  life  is  dear  even  to  those  who  feel  it  as  a  burden. 
"  Wha  tauld  ye  that,  Jeanie  ?  " 

"  It  was  ane  that  kenn'd  what  he  was  saying  weel  eneugh," 
replied  Jeanie,  who  had  a  natural  reluctance  at  mentioning 
even  the  name  of  her  sister's  seducer. 

**  Wha  was  it?     I  conjure  ye  to  tell  me."  said  Effie,  seat- 


202  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

ing  herself  upright.  ''  Wha  could  tak  interest  m  sic  a  cast- 
bye  as  I  am  now  ?     Was  it — was  it  Jmn  ?  " 

*'Hout/'  said  Katcliffe,  "  what  signifies  keeping  the  poor 
lassie  in  a  swither  ?  I'se  uphaud  it's  been  Robertson  that 
learned  ye  that  doctrine  when  ye  saw  him  at  Muschat's  Cairn. ■'^ 

"  Was  it  him  ?  "  said  Effie,  catching  eagerly  at  his  words — 
*'■  was  it  him,  Jeanie,  indeed  ?  0,1  see  it  was  him,  poor  lad  ; 
and  I  was  thinking  his  heart  was  as  hard  as  the  nether  mill- 
stane  ;  and  him  in  sic  danger  on  his  ain  part — poor  George  ! " 

Somewhat  indignant  at  this  burst  of  tender  feeling  towards 
the  author  of  her  misery,  Jeanie  could  not  help  exclaiming — 
"  0,  Effie,  how  can  ye  speak  that  gate  of  sic  a  man  as  that  ?  " 

"  We  maun  forgie  our  enemies,  ye  ken,"  said  poor  Effie, 
with  a  timid  look  and  a  subdued  voice  ;  for  her  conscience 
told  her  what  a  different  character  the  feelings  with  wiiich 
she  still  regarded  her  seducer  bore,  compared  with  the  Chrig- 
tian  charity  under  which  she  attempted  to  veil  it. 

"  And  ye  liae  suffered  a'  this  for  him,  and  ye  can  think 
of  loving  him  still  ?  "  said  her  sister,  in  a  voice  betwixt  pity 
and  blame. 

"  Love  him  ! "  answered  Effie.  "If  I  hadna  loved  a? 
woman  seldom  loves,  I  hadna  been  within  these  wa's  this  day ; 
and  trow  ye  that  love  sic  as  mine  is  lightly  forgotten  ?  Na, 
na,  ye  may  hew  down  the  tree,  but  ye  canna  change  its  bend. 
And  0,  Jeanie,  if  ye  wad  do  good  to  me  at  this  moment,  tell 
me  every  word  that  he  said,  and  whether  he  was  sorry  for  pool 
Effie  or  no  ! " 

"What  needs  I  tell  ye  ony  thing  about  it,^*  said  Jeanie. 
"  Ye  may  be  sure  he  had  ower  muckle  to  do  to  save  himsell, 
to  speak  lang  or  muckle  about  onybody  beside.'^ 

"  That's  no  true,  Jeanie,  though  a  saunt  had  said  it,"  re- 
plied Effie,  with  a  sparkle  of  her  former  lively  and  irritable 
temper.  "  But  ye  dinna  ken,  though  I  do,  how  far  he  pat 
his  life  in  venture  to  save  mine."  And  looking  at  Katcliffe, 
she  checked  herself  and  was  silent. 

"  I  fancy,"  said  Eatcliffe,  with  one  of  his  familiar  sneers, 
"the  lassie  thinks  that  naebody  has  een  but  hersell.  Didna 
I  see  when  Gentle  Geordie  was  seeking  to  get  other  folk  out 
of  the  tolbooth  f  orbye  Jock  Porteous  ?  But  ye  are  of  my  mind, 
hinny  :  better  sit  and  rue  than  flit  and  rue.  Ye  needna  look 
in  my  face  sae  amazed.     I  ken  mair  things  than  that,  maybe." 

"  0  my  God  !  my  God  !  "  said  Effie,  springing  up  and 
throwing  herself  down  on  her  knees  before  him.  "  D'ye  ken 
where  they  hae  putten  my  bairn  ?  0  my  bairn  !  my  bairn  ! 
the  poor  sackless  innocent  new-born  wee  ane — bone  of  ray 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  208 

bone,  and  flesh  of  my  flesh  !  0  man,  if  ye  wad  e'er  deserve 
a  portion  in  heaven,  or  a  broken-hearted  creature's  blessing 
upon  earth,  tell  me  where  they  haeput  my  bairn — the  sign  of 
my  shame,  and  the  partner  of  my  suffering  !  tell  me  wha  has 
taen't  away,  or  what  they  hae  dune  wi't !  " 

"  Hout  tout,"  said  the  turnkey,  endeavoring  to  extricate 
himself  from  the  firm  grasp  with  which  she  held  him,  "  that's 
taking  me  at  my  word  wi'  a  witness.  Bairn,  quo'  she  ? 
How  the  deil  suld  I  ken  ony thing  of  your  bairn,  huzzy  ?  Ye 
maun  ask  that  of  auld  Meg  Murdockson,  if  ye  dinna  ken  ower 
muckle  about  it  yoursell." 

As  his  answer  destroyed  the  wild  and  vague  hope  which 
had  suddenly  gleamed  upon  her,  the  unhappy  prisoner  let  go 
her  hold  of  his  coat,  and  fell  with  her  face  on  the  pavement  of 
the  apartment  in  a  strong  convulsion  fit. 

Jeanie  Deans  possessed,  with  her  excellently  clear  under- 
standing, the  concomitant  advantage  of  pomptitude  of  spirit, 
even  in  the  extremity  of  distress. 

She  did  not  suffer  herself  to  be  overcome  by  her  own  feel- 
ings of  exquisite  sorrow,  but  instantly  applied  herself  to  her 
sister's  relief,  with  the  readiest  remedies  which  circumstances 
afforded  ;  and  which,  to  do  Eatcliffe  justice,  he  showed  him- 
self anxious  to  suggest,  and  alert  in  procuring.  He  had  even 
the  delicacy  to  withdraw  to  the  furthest  corner  of  the  room, 
so  as  to  render  his  official  attendance  upon  them  as  little  in- 
trusive as  possible,  when  Efiie  was  composed  enough  again  to 
resume  her  conference  with  her  sister. 

The  prisoner  once  more,  in  the  most  earnest  and  broken 
tones,  conjured  Jeanie  to  tell  her  the  particulars  of  the  con- 
ference with  Eobertson,  and  Jeanie  felt  it  was  impossible  to 
refuse  her  this  gratification. 

'*  Do  ye  mind,"  she  said,  ^'^Effie,  w^hen  ye  were  in  the 
fever  before  we  left  Woodend,  and  how  angry  your  mother, 
that's  now  in  a  better  place,  was  wi'  me  for  gieing  ye  milk 
and  water  to  drink,  because  ye  grat  for  it  ?  Ye  were  a  bairn 
then,  and  ye  are  a  woman  now,  and  should  ken  better  than 
ask  what  canna  but  hurt  you.  But  come  weal  or  woe,  I 
canna  refuse  ye  onything  that  ye  ask  me  wi'  the  tear  in 
your  ee." 

Again  Effie  threw  herself  into  her  arms,  and  kissed  her 
cheek  and  forehead,  murmuring,  "0  if  ye  kenn'd  how  lang 
it  is  since  I  heard  his  name  mentioned  !  if  ye  but  kenn'd  how 
muckle  good  it  does  me  but  to  ken  onything  o'  him  that's 
like  goodness  or  kindness,  ye  wadna  wonder  that  1  wish  to 
hear  o'  him  ! " 


804  WAVE  RLE  Y  NOVELS 

Jeanie  sighed,  and  commenced  her  narrative  of  all  that 
had  passed  betwixt  Robertson  and  her,  making  it  as  brief  as 
possible.  Effie  listened  in  breathless  anxiety,  holding  her 
sister^s  hand  in  hers^  and  keeping  her  eye  fixed  npon  her 
face,  as  if  devouring  every  word  she  uttered.  The  interjec- 
tions of  "  Poor  fellow  ! " — "  Poor  George  !  "  which  escaped  in 
whispers,  and  betwixt  sighs,  were  the  only  sounds  with  which 
she  interrupted  the  story.  When  it  was  finished  she  made  a 
long  pause. 

"And  this  was  his  advice  ?"  were  the  first  words  she  ut- 
tered. 

"  Just  sic  as  I  hae  telFd  ye,^^  replied  her  siater. 

"  And  he  wanted  you  to  say  something  to  yon  folks  that 
wad  save  my  young  life  ?" 

"He  wanted,"  answered  Jeanie,  "that  I  suld  be  man- 
sworn.'' 

"  And  you  tauld  him,"  said  Efiie,  "  that  ye  wadna  hear  o' 
coming  between  me  and  the  death  that  I  am  to  die,  and  me 
no  aughteen  year  auld  yet  ?  " 

"I  told  him,"  replied  Jeanie,  who  now  trembled  at  the 
turn  which  her  sister's  reflections  seemed  about  to  take,  "that 
I  daured  na  swear  to  an  untruth." 

"  And  what  d'ye  ca'  an  untruth  ?"said  Effie,  again  show- 
ing a  touch  of  her  former  spirit.  "Ye  are  muckle  to  blame, 
lass,  if  ye  think  a  mother  would,  or  could,  murder  her  ain 
bairn.  Murder  !  I  wad  hae  laid  down  my  life  just  to  see  a 
blink  o'  its  ee  !  " 

"  I  do  believe,"  said  Jeanie,  "  that  ye  are  as  innocent  of 
sic  a  purpose  as  the  new-born  babe  itsell." 

"  I  am  glad  ye  do  me  that  justice,"  said  Effie,  haughtily  ; 
"  it's  whiles  the  faut  of  very  good  folk  like  you,  Jeanie,  that 
they  think  a'  the  rest  of  the  Avarld  are  as  bad  as  the  warst 
temptations  can  make  them." 

"  I  dinna  deserve  this  frae  ye,  Effie,"  said  her  sister,  sob- 
bing, and  feeling  at  once  the  injustice  of  the  reproach  and 
compassion  for  the  state  of  mind  which  dictated  it. 

"  Maybe  no,  sister,"  said  Effie.  "  But  ye  are  angry  be- 
cause I  love  Robertson.  How  can  I  help  loving  him,  that 
loves  me  better  that  body  and  soul  baith  ?  Here  he  put  his 
life  in  a  niffer,  to  break  the  prison  to  let  me  out ;  and  sure 

am  I,  had  it  stood  wi'  him  as  it  stands  wi'  you "     Here 

she  paused  and  was  silent. 

"  0,  if  it  stude  wi'  me  to  save  ye  wi'  risk  of  m^life!" 
said  Jeanie. 

"Ay,  lass,"  said  her  sister,  "  that's  lightly  said,  but  no  sae 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  205 

lightly  credited,  frae  ane  tliat  winna  ware  a  word  for  me  ;  and 
if  it  be  a  wrang  word,  ye'll  liae  time  eneugh  to  repent  o't." 

"  But  that  word  is  a  grievous  sin,  and  it's  a  deeper  offence 
when  it's  a  sin  wilfully  and  presumptuously  committed." 

''Weel,  weel,  Jeanie,"  said  Effie,  "I  mind  a' about  the 
sins  o'  presumption  in  the  questions  ;  we'll  speak  nae  mair 
about  this  matter,  and  ye  may  save  your  breath  to  say  your 
carritch  ;  and  for  me,  I'll  soon  hae  nae  breath  to  waste  on  ony- 
body." 

"  I  must  needs  say,"  interposed  Eatcliffe,  "  that  it's  d — d 
hard,  when  three  words  of  your  mouth  would  give  the  girl  the 
chance  to  nick  Moll  Blood,  that  you  make  such  scrujiling 
about  rapping  to  them.  D — n  me,  if  they  would  take  me, 
if  I  would  not  rap  to  all  Whatd'yecallum's — Hyssoj^'s  Fables 
— for  her  life  ;  lam  us'd  to't,  b — t  me,  for  less  matters.  Why, 
I  have  smacked  calfskin  fifty  times  in  England  for  a  keg  of 
brandy." 

"Never  speak  mair  o't,"  said  the  prisoner.  "  It's  just  as 
weel  as  it  is ;  and  gude  day,  sister,  ye  keep  Mr.  Eatcliffe 
waiting  on.  Ye'll  come  back  and  see  me,  I  reckon,  be- 
fore  "     Here  she  stopped,  and  became  deadly  pale. 

"And  are  we  to  part  in  this  way,"  said  Jeanie,  "and  yon 
in  sic  deadly  peril  ?  0,  Effie,  look  but  up  and  say  what  ye  wad 
hae  me  do,  and  I  could  find  in  my  heart  amaist  to  say  that  I 
wad  do't." 

"No,  Jeanie,"  replied  her  sister,  after  an  effort,  "lam 
better  minded  now.  At  my  best,  I  was  never  half  sae  gude 
as  ye  were,  and  what  for  suld  you  begin  to  mak  yoursell  waur 
to  save  me,  now  that  I  am  no  Avortli  saving  ?  God  knows, 
that  in  my  sober  mind  I  wadna  wuss  ony  living  creature  to  do 
a  wrang  thing  to  save  my  life.  I  might  have  fled  frae  this 
tolbooth  on  that  awfu'  night  wi'  ane  wad  hae  carried  me 
through  the  warld,  and  friended  me,  and  fended  for  me. 
But  I  said  to  them,  let  life  gang  when  gude  fame  is  gane  be- 
fore it.  But  this  lang  im^orisonment  has  broken  my  spirit, 
and  I  am  whiles  sair  left  to  mysell,  and  then  I  wad  gie  the 
Indian  mines  of  gold  and  diamonds  Just  for  life  and  breath  ; 
for  I  think,  Jeanie,  I  have  such  roving  fits  as  I  used  to  hae 
in  the  fever  ;  but  instead  of  the  fiery  een,  and  wolves,  and 
Widow  Butler's  bullsegg,  that  I  used  to  see  spelling  up  on 
my  bed,  I  am  thinking  now  about  a  high  black  gibbet,  and 
me  standing  up,  and  such  seas  of  faces  all  looking  up  at  poor 
Effie  Deans,  and  asking  if  it  be  her  that  George  Eobertson 
used  to  call  the  Lily  of  St.  Leonard's.  And  then  they  stretch 
out  their  faces,  and  make  mouths,  andgirn  at  me,  and  which- 


2M  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

ever  way  I  look,  I  see  a  face  laughing  like  Meg  Mnrdockson, 
when  she  tanld  me  I  had  seen  the  last  of  my  wean.  God  pre- 
serve us,  Jeanie,  that  carline  has  a  fearsome  face  ! "  She 
clapped  her  hands  before  lier  eyes  as  she  uttered  this  excla- 
mation, as  if  to  secure  herself  against  seeing  the  fearful  ob- 
ject she  had  alluded  to. 

Jeanie  Deans  remained  with  her  sister  for  two  hours,  dur- 
ing which  she  endeavored,  if  possible,  to  extract  something 
from  her  that  might  be  serviceable  in  her  exculpation.  But 
she  had  nothing  to  say  beyond  what  she  had  declared  on  her 
first  examination,  with  the  purport  of  which  the  reader  will 
be  made  acquainted  in  proper  time  and  place.  "  They  wadna 
believe  her,"  she  said,  "and  she  had  naething  mair  to  tell 
them." 

,  At  length  Katcliffe,  though  reluctantly,  informed  the  sisters 
that  there  was  a  necessity  that  they  should  part.  "  Mr.  Novit," 
he  said,  "was  to  see  the  prisoner,  and  maybe  Mr.  Langtale 
too.  Langtale  likes  to  look  at  a  bonny  lass,  whether  in  prison 
or  out  o'  prison." 

Reluctantly,  therefore,  and  slowly,  after  many  a  tear  and 
many  an  embrace,  Jeanie  retired  from  the  apartment,  and 
heard  its  jarring  bolts  turned  upon  the  dear  being  from  whom 
she  was  separated.  Somewhat  familiarized  now  even  with 
her  rude  conductor,  she  offered  him  a  small  present  in  money, 
with  a  request  he  would  do  what  he  could  for  her  sister's  ac- 
commodation. To  her  surprise,  Eatcliffe  declined  the  fee. 
"I  wasna  bloody  when  I  was  on  the  pad,"  he  said,  "and  I 
winna  be  greedy — that  is,  beyond  what's  right  and  reasonable 
— now  that  I  am  in  the  lock.  Keep  the  siller  ;  and  for  civil- 
ity, your  sister  sail  hae  sic  as  I  can  bestow.  But  I  hope  you'll 
think  better  on  it,  and  rap  an  oath  for  her ;  deil  a  hair  ill 
there  is  in  it,  if  ye  are  rapping  again  the  crown.  I  kenn'd  a 
worthy  minister,  as  gude  a  man,  bating  the  deed  they  deposed 
him  for,  as  ever  ye  heard  claver  in  a  pu'pit,  that  rapped  to  a 
hogshead  of  pigtail  tobacco,  just  for  as  muckle  as  filled  his 
spleuchan.  But  maybe  ye  are  keeping  your  ain  counsel ; 
weel,  weel,  there's  nae  harm  in  that.  As  for  your  sister,  I'se 
see  that  she  gets  her  meat  clean  and  warm,  and  I'll  try  to  gar 
her  lie  down  and  take  a  sleep  after  dinner,  for  deil  a  ee  she'll 
close  the  night.  I  hae  gude  experience  of  these  matters. 
The  first  night  is  aye  the  warst  o't.  I  hae  never  heard  o'  ane 
that  sleepit  the  night  afore  trial,  but  of  mony  a  ane  that  sleepit 
as  sound  as  a  tap  the  night  before  their  necks  were  straught- 
ed.  And  it's  nae  wonder:  the  warst  may  be  tholed  when  it's 
kenn'd.     Better  a  finger  aff  as  aye  wagging." 


CHAPTER  XXI 

yet  though  thou  mayst  be  dragg'd  in  scorn 

To  yonder  ignominious  tree, 
Thou  shalt  not  want  one  faithful  friend 

To  share  the  cruel  fates'  decree. 

Jemmy  Dawson. 

After  spending  the  greater  part  of  the  morning  in  his  de- 
votions, for  his  benevolent  neighbors  had  kindly  insisted  npon 
discharging  his  task  of  ordinary  labor,  David  Deans  entered 
the  apartment  when  the  breakfast  meal  was  prepared.  His 
eyes  were  involuntarily  cast  down,  for  he  was  afraid  to  look 
at  Jeanie,  uncertain  as  he  was  whether  she  might  feel  herself 
at  liberty,  with  a  good  conscience,  to  attend  the  Court  of  Jus- 
ticiary that  day,  to  give  the  evidence  which  he  understood 
that  she  possessed  in  order  to  her  sister's  exculpation.  At 
length,  after  a  minute  of  apprehensive  hesitation,  he  looked 
at  her  dress  to  discover  whether  it  seemed  to  be  in  her 
contemplation  to  go  abroad  that  morning.  Her  apparel  was 
neat  and  plain,  but  such  as  conveyed  no  exact  intimation  of 
her  intentions  to  go  abroad.  She  had  exchanged  her  usual 
garb  for  morning  labor  for  one  something  inferior  to  that 
with  which,  as  her  best,  she  was  wont  to  dress  herself  for 
church,  or  any  more  rare  occasion  of  going  into  society. 
Her  sense  taught  her,  that  it  was  respectful  to  be  decent  in 
her  apparel  on  such  an  occasion,  while  her  feelings  induced 
her  to  lay  aside  the  use  of  the  very  few  and  simple  personal 
ornaments  which,  on  other  occasions,  she  permitted  herself 
to  wear.  So  that  there  occurred  nothing  in  her  external  ap- 
pearance which  could  mark  out  to  her  father,  with  anything 
like  certaint}',  her  intentions  on  this  occasion. 

The  preparations  for  their  humble  meal  were  that  morn- 
ing made  in  vain.  The  father  and  daughter  sat,  each  assum- 
ing the  appearance  of  eating  when  the  other's  eyes  were 
turned  to  them,  and  desisting  from  the  effort  with  disgust 
when  the  affectionate  imposture  seemed  no  longer  necessary. 

At  length  these  moments  of  constraint  were  removed.  The 
sound  of  St.  Giles's  heavy  toll  announced  the  hour  previous 
to  the  commencement  of  the  trial ;  Jeanie  arose,  and,  with  a 
degree  of  composure  for  which  she  herself  could  not  account. 


208  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

assumed  her  plaid,  and  made  her  other  preparations  for  a  dis- 
tant walking.  It  was  a  strange  contrast  between  the  firm- 
ness of  her  demeanor  and  the  vacillation  and  crnel  uncer- 
tainty of  purpose  indicated  in  all  her  father's  motions  ;  and 
one  unacquainted  with  both  could  scarcely  have  supposed 
that  the  former  waS;,  in  her  ordinary  habits  of  life,  a  docile, 
quiet,  gentle,  and  even  timid  country  maiden,  while  her 
father,  with  a  mind  naturally  proud  and  strong,  and  sup- 
ported by  religious  opinions  of  a  stern,  stoical,  and  unyield- 
ing character,  had  in  his  time  undergone  and  withstood  the 
most  severe  hardships  and  the  most  imminent  peril,  without 
depression  of  spirit  or  subjugation  of  his  constancy.  The 
secret  of  this  difference  was,  that  Jeanie's  mind  had  already 
anticipated  the  line  of  conduct  which  she  must  adopt,  with 
all  its  natural  and  necessary  consequences  ;  while  her  father, 
ignorant  of  every  other  circumstance,  tormented  himself  with 
imagining  what  the  one  sister  might  say  or  swear,  or  what  effect 
lier  testimony  might  have  upon  the  awful  event  of  the  trial. 

He  watched  his  daugliter  with  a  faltering  and  indecisive 
!ook,  until  she  looked  back  upon  him  with  a  look  of  unut- 
terable anguish,  as  she  was  about  to  leave  the  apartment. 

"My   dear  lassie,"  said  he,    "I  will "     His  action, 

hastily  and  confusedly  searching  for  his  worsted  mittens  and 
staff,  showed  his  purpose  of  accompanying  her,  though  his 
tongue  failed  distinctly  to  announce  it. 

"  Father,"  said  Jeanie,  replying  rather  to  his  action  than 
his  words,  "ye  had  better  not." 

"  In  the  strength  of  my  G-od,"  answered  Deans,  assum- 
mg  firmness,  "I  will  go  forth." 

And,  taking  his  daughter's  arm  under  his,  he  began  to 
walk  from  the  door  with  a  step  so  hasty  that  she  was  almost 
unable  to  keep  up  with  him.  A  trifling  circumstance,  but 
which  marked  the  perturbed  state  of  his  mind,  checked  his 
course.  "  Your  bonnet,  father  ?  "  said  Jeanie,  who  observed 
he  had  come  out  with  his  gray  hairs  uncovered.  He  turned 
back  with  a  slight  blush  on  his  cheek,  being  ashamed  to  have 
been  detected  in  an  omission  which  indicated  so  much  men- 
tal confusion,  assumed  his  large  blue  Scottish  bonnet,  and 
with  a  step  slower,  but  more  composed,  as  if  the  circumstance 
had  obliged  him  to  summon  up  his  resolution  and  collect  his 
scattered  ideas,  again  placed  his  daughter's  arm  under  his, 
and  resumed  tlie  way  to  Edinburgh. 

The  courts  of  justice  were  then,  and  are  still,  held  in 
what  is  called  the  Parliament  Close,  or,  according  to  modern 
phrase,  the  Parliament  Square,  and  occupied  the  buildings 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  209 

intended  for  the  accommodation  of  tlie  Scottish  Estates. 
This  edifice,  though  in  an  imperfect  and  corrupted  style  of 
architecture,  had  then  a  grave,  decent,  and,  as  it  were,  a  ju- 
dicial aspect,  which  was  at  least  entitled  to  respect  from  its 
antiquity  ;  for  which  venerable  front,  I  observed,  on  my  last 
occasional  visit  to  the  metrojDolis,  that  modern  taste  had  sub- 
stituted, at  great  apparent  expense,  a  pile  so  utterly  incon- 
sistent with  every  monument  of  antiquity  around,  and  in 
itself  so  clumsy  at  the  same  time  and  fantastic,  that  it  may 
be  likened  to  the  decorations  of  Tom  Errand,  the  porter,  in 
the  Trij)  to  the  Jubilee,  when  he  appears  bedizened  with  the 
tawdry  finery  of  Beau  Clincher.  Sed  transeat  cum  cceteris 
erroribus. 

The  small  quadrangle,  or  close,  if  we  may  presume  still 
to  give  it  that  appropriate  though  antiquated  title,  which  at 
Litchfield,  Salisbury,  and  elsewhere  is  properly  applied  to 
designate  the  enclosure  adjacent  to  a  cathedral,  already 
evinced  tokens  of  the  fatal  scene  which  was  that  day  to  be 
acted.  The  soldiers  of  the  City  Guard  were  on  their  posts, 
now  enduring,  and  now  rudely  repelling  with  the  butts  of  their 
muskets,  the  motley  crew  who  thrust  each  other  forward,  to 
catch  a  glance  at  the  unfortunate  object  of  trial,  as  she  should 
pass  from  the  adjacent  jjrison  to  the  court  in  which  her  fate 
was  to  be  determined.  All  must  have  occasionally  observed, 
with  disgust,  the  apathy  with  which  the  vulgar  gaze  on  scenes 
of  this  nature,  and  how  seldom,  unless  when  their  sympathies 
are  called  forth  by  some  striking  and  extraordinary  circum- 
stance, the  crowd  evince  any  interest  deeper  than  that  of 
callous,  unthinking  bustle  and  brutal  curiosity.  They  laugh, 
jest,  quarrel,  and  push  each  other  to  and  fro,  with  the  same 
unfeeling  indifference  as  if  they  were  assembled  for  some 
holiday  sport,  or  to  see  an  idle  procession.  Occasionally, 
however,  this  demeanor,  so  natural  to  the  degraded  populace 
of  a  large  town,  is  exchanged  for  a  temporary  touch  of  humai". 
affections  ;  and  so  it  chanced  on  the  present  occasion. 

When  Deans  and  his  daughter  presented  themselves  in  the 
close,  and  endeavored  to  make  their  way  forward  to  the  door 
of  the  court-house,  they  became  involved  in  the  mob,  hUK 
subject,  of  course,  to  their  insolence.  As  Deans  repelled  with 
some  force  the  rude  pushes  which  he  received  on  all  sides,  his 
figure  and  antiquated  dress  caught  the  attention  of  the  rab- 
ble, who  often  show  an  intuitive  sharpness  in  ascribing  the 
proper  character  from  external  appearance. 

"  Ye're  welcome,  Whigs, 
Frae  Both  well  Briggs," 


210  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

sung  one  fellow,  for  the  mob  of  Edinbnrgli  were  at  that  time 
Jacobitically  disposed,  probably  because  that  was  the  line  of 
sentiment  most  diametrically  opposite  to  existing  authority. 

"  Mess  David  Williamson, 
Chosen  of  twenty, 
Ran  up  the  pu'pit  stair. 
And  sang  Killiecrankie," 

ehanted  a  siren,  whose  profession  might  be  guessed  by  her  ap- 
pearance. A  tattered  cadie  or  errand  porter,  whom  David 
Deans  had  jostled  in  his  attempt  to  extricate  himself  from  the 
vicinity  of  these  scorners,  exclaimed  in  a  strong  north-coun- 
try tone,  "  Tadeil  ding  out  her  Cameronian  een  !  What  gies 
her  titles  to  dunch  gentlemans  about  ?  " 

"  Make  room  for  the  ruling  elder,"  said  yet  another  ;  "he 
comes  to  see  a  precious  sister  glorify  Grod  in  the  G-rassmarket ! " 

' '  Whisht !  shame's  in  ye,  sirs,"  said  the  voice  of  a  man  very 
loudly,  which,  as  quickly  sinking,  said  in  a  low,  but  distinct 
tone,  "  It's  her  father  and  sister." 

All  fell  back  to  make  way  for  the  sufferers ;  and  all,  even 
the  very  rudest  and  most  profligate,  were  struck  with  shame 
and  silence.  In  the  space  thus  abandoned  to  them  by  the 
mob.  Deans  stood,  holding  his  daughter  by  the  hand,  and  said 
to  her,  with  a  countenance  strongly  and  sternly  expressive  of 
his  internal  emotion,  "  Ye  hear  with  your  ears,  and  ye  see 
with  your  eyes,  where  and  to  whom  the  backslidings  and  de- 
fections of  professors  are  ascribed  by  the  scoffers.  Not  to 
themselves  alone,  but  to  the  kirk  of  which  they  are  members, 
and  to  its  blessed  and  invisible  Head.  Then,  weel  may  we  take 
wi'  patience  our  share  and  portion  of  this  outspreading  re- 
proach." 

The  man  who  had  spoken,  no  other  than  our  old  friend 
Dumbiedikes,  whose  mouth,  like  that  of  the  prophet's  ass, 
had  been  opened  by  the  emergency  of  the  case,  now  joined 
them,  and,  with  his  usual  taciturnity,  escorted  them  into  the 
court-house.  No  opposition  was  offered  to  their  entrance, 
either  by  the  guards  or  doorkeepers  ;  and  it  is  even  said  that 
one  of  the  latter  refused  a  shillhig  of  civility-money,  tendered 
him  by  the  Laird  of  Dumbiedikes,  who  was  of  opinion  that 
"siller  wad  mak  a.'  easy."  But  this  last  incident  wants  con- 
firmation. 

Admitted  within  the  precincts  of  the  court-house,  they 
found  the  usual  number  of  busy  office-bearers  and  idle  loiter- 
ers, who  attend  on  these  scenes  by  choice  or  from  duty.  Burgh- 
ers gaped  and  stared  ;  young  lawyers  sauctered,  sneered,  and 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  211 

langhed,  as  in  the  pit  of  the  theatre ;  while  others  apart  sat 
on  a  bench  retired  and  reasoned  highly,  inter  ajnces  juris, 
on  the  doctrines  of  constructive  crime  and  the  true  import 
of  the  statute.  The  bench  was  prej^ared  for  the  arrival  of  the 
judges.  The  jurors  were  in  attendance.  The  crown  counsel, 
employed  in  looking  over  their  briefs  and  notes  of  evidence, 
looked  grave  and  whispered  with  each  other.  They  occupied 
one  side  of  a  large  table  placed  beneath  the  bench  ;  on  the 
other  sat  the  advocates,  whom  the  humanity  of  the  Scottish 
law,  in  this  particular  more  liberal  than  tliat  of  the  sister  coun- 
try, not  only  permits,  but  enjoins,  to  appear  and  assist  with 
the'r  advice  and  skill  all  persons  under  trial.  Mr.  Nichil 
Novit  was  seen  actively  instructing  the  counsel  for  the  panel 
— so  the  prisoner  is  called  in  Scottish  law-phraseology — 
busy,  bustling,  and  imjDortant.  When  they  entered  the  court- 
room. Deans  asked  the  Laird,  in  a  tremulous  whisper,  "  Where 
wills/ze  sit?" 

Dunibiedikes  whispered  Novit,  who  pointed  to  a  vacant 
space  at  the  bar,  fronting  the  judges,  and  was  about  to  con- 
duct Deans  towards  it. 

"  No  !  "  he  said  ;  "  I  cannot  sit  by  her  ;  I  cannot  own  her 
— not  as  yet,  at  least.  I  will  keep  out  of  her  sight,  and  turn 
mine  own  eyes  elsewhere  ;  better  for  us  baith." 

Saddletree,  whose  repeated  interference  with  the  counsel 
had  procured  him  one  or  two  rebuffs,  and  a  special  request 
that  he  would  concern  himself  with  his  own  matters,  now 
saw  with  i^le^sure  an  opportunity  of  playing  the  person  of 
importance.  He  bustled  up  to  the  poor  old  man,  and  pro- 
ceeded to  exhibit  his  consequence,  by  securing,  through  his 
interest  with  the  barkeepers  and  macers,  a  seat  for  Deans  in 
a  situation  where  he  was  hidden  from  the  general  eye  by  the 
projecting  corner  of  the  bench. 

"  It's  gude  to  have  a  friend  at  court,"  he  said,  continuing 
his  heartless  harangues  to  the  passive  auditor,  who  neither 
heard  nor  replied  to  them  ;  "few  folk  but  my  sell  could  hae 
sorted  ye  out  a  seat  like  this.  The  Lords  will  be  here  incon- 
tinent, and  proceed  instanter  to  trial.  They  wunna  fence 
the  court  as  they  do  at  the  circuit.  The  High  Court  of  Jus- 
ticiary is  aye  fenced.  But,  Lord's  sake,  what's  this  o't  ? 
Jeanie,  ye  are  a  cited  witness.  Macer,  this  lass  is  a  witness  ; 
she  maun  be  enclosed  ;  she  maun  on  nae  account  be  at  large. 
Mr.  Novit,  suldna  Jeanie  Deans  be  enclosed  ?" 

N^ovit  answered  in  the  affirmative,  and  offered  to  conduct 
Jeanie  to  the  apartment  where,  according  to  the  scrupulous 
practice  of  the  Scottish  court,  the  witnesses  remain  in  readi- 


212  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

ness  to  be  called  into  court  to  give  evidence  ;  and  separated, 
at  the  same  time,  from  all  who  might  influence  their  testi- 
mony, or  give  them  information  concerning  that  which  was 
passing  upon  the  trial. 

'*' Is  this  necessary  ?"  said  Jeanie,  still  reluctant  to  quit 
her  father's  hand. 

*'A  matter  of  absolute  needcessity,"  said  Saddletree; 
"  wha  ever  heard  of  witnesses  no  being  inclosed  ?  " 

''  It  is  really  a  matter  of  necessity,"  said  the  younger 
counsellor  retained  for  her  sister  ;  and  Jeanie  reluctantly  fol- 
lowed the  macer  of  the  court  to  the  place  appointed. 

"  This,  Mr.  Deans,"  said  Saddletree,  "  isca'd  sequestering 
a  witness  ;  but  it's  clean  different,  wliilk  maybe  ye  wadnafund 
out  o'  yoursell,  frae  sequestering  ane's  estate  or  effects,  as  in 
cases  of  bankruptcy.  I  iiae  aften  been  sequestered  as  a  wit- 
ness, for  the  sheriff  is  in  the  use  whiles  to  cry  me  in  to  witness 
the  declarations  at  precognitions,  and  so  is  Mr.  Sharpitlaw  ; 
but  I  was  ne'er  like  to  be  sequestered  o'  land  and  gudes  but 
ance,  and  that  was  lang  syne,  afore  I  was  married.  But 
whislit,  whisht !  here's  the  Court  coming." 

As  he  spoke,  the  five  Lords  of  Justiciary,  in  their  long 
robes  of  scarlet,  faced  with  white,  and  preceded  by  their  mace- 
bearer,  entered  with  the  usual  formalities,  and  took  their  places 
upon  the  bench  of  judgment. 

The  audience  rose  to  receive  them  ;  and  the  bustle  occa- 
sioned by  their  entrance  was  hardly  composed,  when  a  great 
noise  aud  confusion  of  persons  struggling,  and  forcibly  en- 
deavoring to  enter  at  the  doors  of  the  court-room  and  of  the 
galleries,  aiinouuced  that  the  prisoner  was  about  to  be  placed 
at  the  bar.  This  tumult  takes  place  when  the  doors,  at  first 
only  opened  to  those  either  having  right  to  be  present  or  to 
the  better  and  more  qualified  ranks,  are  at  length  laid  open  to 
all  whose  curiosity  induces  them  to  be  present  on  the  occasion. 
With  inflamed  CDuntenances  and  dishevelled  dresses,  strug- 
gling witli  and  sometimes  tumbling  over  each  other,  m  rushed 
the  rude  multitude,  while  a  few  soldiers,  forming,  as  it  were, 
the  centre  of  the  tide,  could  scarce,  with  all  their  efforts,  clear 
a  passage  for  the  prisoner  to  the  place  which  she  was  to  oc- 
cupy. By  the  authority  of  the  Court  and  the  exertions  of 
its  officers,  the  tumult  among  the  spectators  was  at  length  ap- 
peased, and  the  unhappy  girl  brought  forward,  and  placed 
betwixt  two  sentinels  with  drawn  bayonets,  as  a  prisoner  at 
the  bar,  where  she  was  to  abide  her  deliverance  for  good  or 
evil,  according  to  the  issue  of  her  trial. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

We  have  strict  statutes,  and  most  biting  laws — 
Tne  needful  l>its  and  curbs  for  headstrong  steeds — 
Which,  for  these  fourteen  years,  we  have  let  sleep, 
Like  to  an  o'ergrown  lion  in  a  cave 
That  goes  not  out  to  prey. 

Measure  for  Measure. 

"  EuPHEMiA  Deans/'  said  the  presiding  Judge,  in  an  ac- 
cent in  which  pity  was  blended  with  dignity,  "  stand  up  and 
listen  to  the  criminal  indictment  now  to  be  preferred  against 
you." 

The  unhappy  girl,  who  had  been  stupefied  by  the  confu- 
sion through  which  the  guards  had  forced  a  passage,  cast  a 
bewildered  look  on  the  multitude  of  faces  around  her  which 
seemed  to  tapestry,  as  it  were,  the  walls,  in  one  broad  slope 
from  the  ceiling  to  the  floor,  with  human  countenanccb,  and 
instinctively  obeyed  a  command  which  rung  in  her  ears  like 
the  trumpet  of  the  judgment-day. 

"  Put  back  your  hair,  EfEe,"  said  one  of  the  macers. 
For  her  beautiful  and  abundant  tresses  of  long  fair  hair, 
which,  according  to  the  costume  of  the  country,  unmarried 
women  were  not  alloAved  to  cover  with  any  sort  of  cap,  and 
which,  alas  !  Effie  dared  no  longer  confine  with  the  snood 
or  ribbon  which  implied  purity  of  maiden-fame,  now  hung 
unbound  and  dishevelled  over  her  face,  and  almost  concealed 
her  features.  On  receiving  this  hint  from  the  attendant,  the 
unfortunate  young  woman,  with  a  hasty,  trembling,  and  ap- 
jjarently  mechanical  compliance,  shaded  back  from  her  face 
her  luxuriant  locks,  and  showed  to  the  whole  court,  except- 
ing one  individual,  a  countenance  which,  though  pale  and 
emaciated,  was  so  lovely  amid  its  agony  that  it  called  forth 
a  universal  murmur  of  compassion  and  sympathy.  Appar- 
ently the  expressive  sound  of  human  feeling  recalled  the  poor 
girl  from  the  stupor  of  fear  which  predominated  at  first  over 
every  other  sensation,  and  awakened  her  to  the  no  less  pain- 
ful sense  of  shame  and  exposure  attached  to  lier  present  situa- 
tion.    Her  eye,    which  had  at  first  glanced  wildly  around. 


214  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

was  turned  on  the  ground  ;  her  cheek,  at  first  so  deadly  pale, 
began  gradually  to  be  overspread  with  a  faint  blush,  which 
increased  so  fast  that,  when  in  agony  of  shame  she  strove  to 
conceal  her  face,  her  temples,  her  brow,  her  neck,  and  all 
that  her  slender  fingers  and  small  palms  could  not  cover, 
became  of  the  deepest  crimson. 

All  marked  and  were  moved  by  these  changes,  excepting 
one.  It  was  old  Deans,  who,  motionless  in  his  seat,  and  con- 
cealed, as  we  have  said,  by  the  corner  of  the  bench,  from  see- 
ing or  being  seen,  did  nevertheless  keep  his  eyes  firmly  fixed 
on  the  ground,  as  if  determined  that,  by  no  possibility  what- 
ever, would  he  be  an  ocular  witness  of  the  shame  of  his 
house. 

"  Ichabod  I"  he  said  to  himself — "  Ichabod  !  my  glory  is 
departed  I" 

While  these  reflections  were  passing  through  his  mind,  the 
indictment,  which  set  forth  in  technical  form  the  crime  of 
which  the  panel  stood  accused,  was  read  as  usual,  and  the 
prisoner  was  asked  if  she  was  Guilty  or  Not  Guilty. 

"  Not  guilty  of  my  poor  bairn's  death,''  said  Effie  Deans, 
in  an  accent  corresponding  in  plaintive  softness  of  tone  to  the 
beauty  of  her  features,  and  which  was  not  heard  by  the  au- 
dience without  emotion. 

The  presiding  Judge  next  directed  the  counsel  to  plead  to 
the  relevancy  ;  that  is,  to  state  on  either  part  the  arguments 
in  point  of  law,  and  evidence  in  point  of  fact,  against  and  in 
favor  of  the  criminal,  after  which  it  is  the  form  of  the  Court 
to  pronounce  a  preliminary  judgment,  sending  the  cause  to 
the  cognizance  of  the  jury  or  assize. 

The  counsel  for  the  crown  briefly  stated  the  frequency  of 
the  crime  of  infanticide,  which  had  given  rise  to  the  special 
statute  under  which  the  panel  stood  indicted.  He  mentioned 
the  various  instances,  many  of  them  marked  with  circum- 
stances of  atrocity,  which  had  at  length  induced  the  King's 
Advocate,  though  with  great  reluctance,  to  make  the  experi- 
ment, whether,  by  strictly  enforcing  the  Act  of  Parliament 
which  had  been  made  to  prevent  such  enormities,  their  occur- 
rence might  be  prevented.  "  He  expected,"  he  said,  "to  be 
able  to  establisli  by  witnesses,  as  well  as  by  the  declaration  of 
the  panel  herself,  that  she  was  in  the  state  described  by  the 
statute.  According  to  his  information,  the  panel  had  com- 
municated her  pregnancy  to  no  one,  nor  did  she  allege  in  her 
own  declaration  that  she  had  done  so.  This  secrecy  was  the 
first  requisite  in  support  of  the  indictment.  The  same  dec- 
laration admitted  that  she  had  borne  a  male  child,  in  cir- 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  2i5 

oumstances  which  gave  but  too  much  reason  to  believe  it  had 
died  by  the  hands,  or  at  least  with  the  knowledge  or  consent, 
of  the  unhappy  motlier.  It  was  not,  however,  necessary  for 
him  to  bring  positive  proof  that  the  panel  was  accessory  to 
the  murder,  nay,  nor  even  to  prove  that  tlie  child  was  murs- 
dered  at  all.  It  was  sufficient  to  support  the  indictment, 
tliat  it  could  not  be  found.  According  to  the  stern  but  neces- 
sary severity  of  this  statute,  she  who  should  conceal  her  preg- 
nancy, who  should  omit  to  call  that  assistance  which  is  most 
necessary  on  such  occasions,  was  held  already  to  have  medi- 
ted  the  death  of  her  offspring,  as  an  event  most  likely  to  be 
the  consequence  of  her  culpable  and  cruel  concealment.  And 
if,  under  such  circumstances,  she  could  not  alternatively  show 
by  proof  that  the  infant  had  died  a  natural  death,  or  produce 
it  still  in  life,  she  must,  under  the  construction  of  the  law, 
be  held  to  have  murdered  it,  and  suffer  death  accordingly." 

The  counsel  for  the  prisoner,  Mr.  Fairbrother,  a  man  of 
considerable  fame  in  his  profession,  did  not  pretend  directly 
to  combat  the  arguments  of  tlie  King's  Advocate.  He  began 
by  lamenting  that  his  senior  at  the  bar,  Mr.  Langtale,  had 
been  suddenly  called  to  tlie  county  of  which  he  was  sheriff, 
and  that  he  had  been  applied  to,  on  short  warning,  to  give 
the  panel  his  assistance  in  this  interesting  case.  He  had  had 
little  time,  he  said,  to  make  up  for  his  inferiority  to  his 
learned  brother  hy  long  and  minute  research  ;  and  he  was 
afraid  he  might  give  a  specimen  of  his  incapacity  by  being 
compelled  to  admit  the  accuracy  of  the  indictment  under  the 
statute.  "  It  was  enough  for  their  Lordships,"  he  observed, 
"to  know,  that  such  was  the  law,  and  he  admitted  the  Ad- 
vocate had  a  right  to  call  for  the  usual  interlocutor  of  rel- 
evancy." But  he  stated,  "  that  when  he  came  to  establish 
his  case  by  proof,  he  trusted  to  make  out  circumstances 
which  would  satisfactorily  elide  the  charge  in  the  libel. 
Ilis  client's  story  was  a  sliort  but  most  melancholy  one.  She 
was  bred  up  in  the  strictest  tenets  of  religion  and  virtue,  the 
daughter  of  a  worthy  and  conscientious  person,  wlio,  in  e^dl 
times,  had  established  a  character  for  courage  and  religion, 
by  becoming  a  sufferer  for  conscience'  sake." 

David  Deans  gave  a  convulsive  start  at  hearing  himself 
thus  mentioned,  and  then  resumed  the  situation  in  which, 
with  his  face  stooped  against  his  hands,  and  both  resting 
against  the  corner  of  the  elevated  bench  on  which  the  Judges 
sat,  he  had  hitherto  listened  to  the  procedure  in  the  trial. 
The  Whig  lawyers  seemed  to  be  interested  ;  the  Tories  put 
up  their  lip. 


316  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

"  Whatever  may  be  our  difference  of  opinion/'  resumed 
the  lawyer,  whose  business  it  was  to  carry  his  whole  audience 
with  him  if  possible,  "  concerning  the  peculiar  tenets  of  these 
people  [here Deans  groaned  deeply],  it  is  impossible  to  deny 
them  the  praise  of  sound,  and  even  rigid,  morals,  or  the 
merit  of  training  up  their  children  in  the  fear  of  God  ;  and 
yet  it  was  the  daughter  of  such  a  person  Avhom  a  Jury  would 
shortly  be  called  upon,  in  the  absence  of  evidence,  and  upon 
mere  presumptions,  to  convict  of  a  crime  more  properly  be- 
longing to  a  heathen  or  a  savage  than  to  a  Christian  and  civ- 
ilized country.  It  was  true,"  he  admitted,  "that  the  excel- 
lent nurture  and  early  instruction  which  the  poor  girl  had 
received  had  not  been  sufficient  to  preserve  her  from  guilt 
and  error.  She  had  fallen  a  sacrifice  to  an  inconsiderate 
affection  for  a  young  man  of  prepossessing  manners,  as  he 
had  been  informed,  but  of  a  very  dangerous  and  desperate 
character.  She  was  seduced  under  promise  of  marriage — a 
promise  which  the  fellow  might  have,  perhaps,  done  her  jus- 
tice by  keeping,  had  he  not  at  that  time  been  called  upon  by 
the  law  to  atone  for  a  crime,  violent  and  desperate  in  itself,  but 
which  became  the  preface  to  another  eventful  history,  every 
step  of  which  was  marked  by  blood  and  guilt,  and  the  final 
termination  of  which  had  not  even  yet  arrived.  He  believed 
that  no  one  would  hear  him  without  surprise,  when  he  stated 
that  the  father  of  this  infant  now  amissing,  and  said  by  the 
learned  Advocate  to  have  been  murdered,  was  no  other  than 
the  notorious  George  Robertson,  the  accomplice  of  Wilson, 
the  hero  of  the  memorable  escape  from  the  Tolbooth  Church, 
and,  as  no  one  knew  better  than  his  learned  friend  the  Ad- 
vocate, the  principal  actor  in  the  Porteous  conspiracy." 

"  I  am  sorry  to  interrupt  a  counsel  in  such  a  case  as  the 
present,"  said  the  presiding  Judge  ;  "  but  I  must  remind  the 
learned  gentleman  that  he  is  travelling  out  of  the  case  be- 
fore us." 

The  counsel  bowed,  and  resumed.  "^  He  only  judged  it 
necessary,"  he  said,  "  to  mention  the  name  and  situation  of 
Robertson,  because  the  circumstance  in  which  that  character 
was  placed  went  a  great  way  in  accounting  for  the  silence  on 
which  his  Majesty's  counsel  had  laid  so  much  weight,  as  afford- 
ing proof  that  his  client  proposed  to  allow  no  fair  play  for  its 
life  to  the  helpless  being  whom  she  was  about  to  bring  into 
the  world.  She  had  not  announced  to  her  friends  that  she  had 
been  seduced  from  the  path  of  honor,  and  why  had  she  not 
done  so  ?  Because  she  expected  daily  to  be  restored  to  char- 
acter, by  her  seducer  doing  her  that  justice  which  she  knew  to 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  2« 

be  in  his  power,  and  believed  to  be  in  his  inclination.  Was 
it  natural,  was  it  reasonable,  was  it  fair,  to  expect  that  she 
should,  in  the  interim,  become /e/o  de  se  of  her  own  character, 
and  proclaim  her  frailty  to  tlie  world,  when  she  had  every 
reason  to  expect  that,  by  concealing  it  for  a  season,  it  might 
be  veiled  forever  ?  Was  it  not,  on  the  contrary,  pardonable 
tliat,  in  such  an  emergency,  a  young  woman,  in  such  a  situa- 
tion, should  be  found  far  from  disposed  to  make  a  confidante 
of  every  prying  gossip  who,  with  sharp  eyes  and  eager  ears, 
pressed  upon  her  for  an  explanation  of  suspicious  circum- 
stances, which  females  in  the  lower — he  might  say  which  fe- 
males of  all  ranks  are  so  alert  in  noticing,  that  they  sometimes 
discover  them  where  they  do  not  exist  ?  Was  it  strange,  or 
was  it  criminal,  that  she  should  have  repelled  their  inquisi- 
tive impertinence  with  petulant  denials  ?  The  sense  and 
feeling  of  all  who  heard  him  would  answer  directly  in  the 
negative.  But  although  his  client  had  thus  remained  silent 
towards  those  to  whom  she  was  not  called  ujjon  to  communi- 
cate her  situation — to  whom,"  said  the  learned  gentleman,  "  I 
will  add,  it  would  have  been  unadvised  and  improper  in  her 
to  have  done  so  ;  yet  I  trust  I  shall  remove  this  case  most 
triumphantly  from  under  the  statute,  and  obtain  the  unfort- 
unate young  woman  an  honorable  dismission  from  your  Lord- 
ships' bar,  by  showing  that  she  did,  in  due  time  and  place, 
and  to  a  person  most  fit  for  such  confidence,  mention  the 
calamitous  circumstances  in  which  she  found  herself.  This 
occurred  after  Robertson's  conviction,  and  when  he  was  lying 
in  prison  in  expectation  of  the  fate  which  his  comrade  Wilson 
afterwards  suffered,  and  from  which  he  himself  so  strangely 
escaped.  It  was  then,  when  all  hopes  of  having  her  honor 
repaired  by  wedlock  vanished  from  her  eyes — when  a  union 
with  one  in  Eobertson's  situation,  if  still  practicable,  might 
perhaps  have  been  regarded  rather  as  an  addition  to  her  dis- 
grace— it  was  then,  that  I  trust  to  be  able  to  prove  that  the 
prisoner  communicated  and  consulted  with  her  sister,  a  young 
woman  several  years  older  than  herself,  the  daughter  of  her 
father,  if  I  mistake  not,  by  a  former  marriage,  upon  the  perils 
and  distress  of  her  unhappy  situation." 

"  If,  indeed,  you  are  able  to  instruct  that  point,  Mr.  Fair- 
brother "  said  the  presiding  Judge. 

"  If  I  am  indeed  able  to  instruct  that  point,  my  lord," 
resumed  Mr.  Fairbrother,  "  I  trust  not  only  to  serve  my 
client,  but  to  relieve  your  Lordships  from  that  which  I  know 
you  feel  the  most  painful  duty  of  your  high  office  ;  and  to 
give  all  who  now  hear  me  the  exquisite  pleasure  of  beholding 


ai8  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

a  creature  so  young,  so  ingenuous,  and  so  beautiful  as  she 
that  is  now  at  the  bar  of  your  Lordships'  Court,  dismissed 
from  thence  in  safety  and  in  honor," 

This  address  seemed  to  affect  many  of  the  audience,  and 
was  followed  by  a  slight  murmur  of  applause.  Deans,  as  he 
heard  his  daughter's  beauty  and  innocent  appearance  appealed 
to,  was  involuntarily  about  to  turn  his  eyes  towards  her  ;  but, 
recollecting  himself,  he  bent  them  again  on  the  ground  with 
stubborn  resolution. 

"  Will  not  my  learned  brother  on  the  other  side  of  the 
bar,"  continued  the  advocate,  after  a  short  pause,  "  share  in 
this  general  joy,  since  I  know,  while  he  discharges  his  duty 
in  bringing  an  accused  person  here,  no  one  rejoices  more  in 
their  being  freely  and  honorably  sent  hence  ?  My  learned 
brother  shakes  his  head  doubtfully,  and  lays  his  hand  on  the 
panel's  declaration.  I  understand  him  perfectly  :  he  would 
insinuate  that  the  facts  now  stated  to  your  Lordships  are  in- 
consistent with  tlie  confession  of  Euphemia  Deans  herself. 
I  need  not  remind  your  Lordships,  that  her  present  defence 
is  no  whit  to  be  narrowed  within  the  bounds  of  her  former 
confession ;  and  that  it  is  not  by  any  account  which  she  may 
formerly  have  given  of  herself,  but  by  what  is  now  to  be 
proved  for  or  against  her,  that  she  must  ultimately  stand  or 
fall.  I  am  not  under  the  necessity  of  accounting  for  her 
choosing  to  drop  out  of  her  declaration  the  circumstances  of 
her  confession  to  her  sister.  She  might  not  be  aware  of  its 
importance ;  she  might  be  afraid  of  implicating  her  sister  ; 
she  might  even  have  forgotten  the  circumstance  entirely,  in 
the  terror  and  distress  of  mind  incidental  to  the  arrest  of  so 
young  a  creature  on  a  charge  so  heinous.  Any  of  these  rea- 
sons are  sufficient  to  account  for  her  having  suppressed  the 
truth  in  this  instance,  at  whatever  risk  to  herself  ;  and  I  in- 
cline most  to  her  erroneous  fear  of  criminating  her  sister,  be- 
cause I  observe  she  has  had  a  similar  tenderness  towards  her 
lover,  however  undeserved  on  his  part,  and  has  never  once 
mentioned  Robertson's  name  from  beginning  to  end  of  her 
declaration. 

''But,  my  lords,"  continued  Fairbrother,  '' I  am  aware  the 
King's  Advocate  will  expect  me  to  show  that  the  proof  I  offer 
is  consistent  with  other  circumstances  of  the  case  which  I  do 
not  and  cannot  deny.  He  will  demand  of  me  how  Effie  Deans's 
confession  to  her  sister,  previous  to  her  delivery,  is  reconcilable 
with  the  mystery  of  the  birth — with  the  disappearance,  per- 
haps the  murder — for  I  will  not  deny  a  possibility  which  I 
cannot  disprove — of  the  infant.     My  lords,  the  explanation  of 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  219 

this  is  to  be  found  in  the  placability,  perchance  I  may  say  in  the 
facility  and  pliability,  of  the  female  sex.  The  dulcis  Amaryl- 
lidis  ir(B,  as  your  Lordships  well  know,  are  easily  appeased  ; 
nor  is  it  possible  to  conceive  a  woman  so  atrociously  offended 
by  the  man  whom  she  has  loved,  but  what  she  will  retain  a 
fund  of  forgiveness  upon  which  his  penitence,  whether  real  or 
affected,  may  draw  largely,  with  a  certainty  that  his  bills  will 
be  answered.  We  can  prove,  by  a  letter  produced  in  evidence, 
that  this  villain  Robertson,  from  the  bottom  of  the  dungeon 
whence  he  already  probably  meditated  the  escape  which  he 
afterwards  accomplished  by  the  assistance  of  his  comrade,  con- 
trived to  exercise  authority  over  the  mind,  and  to  direct  the 
motions,  of  this  unhappy  girl.  It  was  in  compliance  with  his 
injunctions,  expressed  in  that  letter,  that  the  panel  was  pre- 
vailed upon  to  alter  the  line  of  conduct  which  her  own  better 
thoughts  had  suggested  ;  and,  instead  of  resorting,  when  her 
time  of  travail  approached,  to  the  protection  of  her  own  fam- 
ily, was  induced  to  confide  herself  to  the  charge  of  some  vile 
agent  of  this  nefarious  seducer,  and  by  her  conducted  to  one 
of  those  solitary  and  secret  purlieus  of  villany,  which,  to  the 
shame  of  our  police,  still  are  suffered  to  exist  in  the  suburbs 
of  this  city,  where,  with  the  assistance,  and  under  the  charge, 
of  a  person  of  her  own  sex,  she  bore  a  male  child,  under  cir- 
cumstances which  added  treble  bitterness  to  the  woe  denounced 
against  our  original  mother.  What  purpose  Eobertson  had 
in  all  this,  it  is  hard  to  tell  or  even  to  guess.  He  may  have 
meant  to  marry  the  girl,  for  her  father  is  a  man  of  substance. 
But  for  the  termination  of  the  story,  and  the  conduct  of  the 
woman  whom  he  had  placed  about  the  person  of  Euphemia 
Deans,  it  is  still  more  difficult  to  account.  The  unfortunate 
young  woman  was  visited  by  the  fever  incidental  to  her  situa- 
tion. In  this  fever  she  appears  to  have  been  deceived  by  the 
person  that  waited  on  her,  and,  on  recovering  her  senses,  she 
found  that  she  was  childless  in  that  abode  of  misery.  Her  in- 
fant had  been  carried  off,  perhaps  for  the  worst  purposes,  by 
the  wretch  that  waited  on  her.  It  may  have  been  murdered 
for  what  I  can  tell." 

He  was  here  interrupted  by  a  piercing  shriek,  uttered  by 
the  unfortunate  prisoner.  She  was  with  difficulty  brought  to 
compose  herself.  Her  counsel  availed  himself  of  the  tragical 
interruption  to  close  his  pleading  with  effect. 

"  My  lords,"  Baid  he,  '^in  that  piteous  cry  you  heard  the 
eloquence  of  maternal  affection,  far  surpassing  the  force  of  my 
poor  words  :  Rachel  weeping  for  her  children  !  Nature  her- 
self bears  testimony  in  favor  of  the  tenderness  and  acutenese 


230  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

of  the  prisoner's  parental  feelings.  I  will  not  dishonor  hei 
plea  by  adding  a  word  more." 

''  Heard  ye  ever  the  like  o'  that,  Laird  ?  "  said  Saddletree 
to  Dumbiedikes,  when  the  counsel  had  ended  his  speech. 
"  There's  a  chield  can  spin  a  muckle  pirn  out  of  a  wee  tait  of 
tow  !  Deil  haet  he  kens  mair  about  it  than  what's  in  the 
declaration,  and  a  surmise  that  Jeanie  Deans  suld  hae  been 
able  to  say  something  about  her  sister's  situation,  whilk  sur- 
mise, Mr.  Crossmyloof  says,  rests  on  sma'  authority.  And 
he's  cleckit  this  great  muckle  bird  out  o'  this  wee  egg  !  He 
could  wile  the  very  flounders  out  o'  the  Firth.  What  garr'd 
my  father  no  send  me  to  Utrecht  ?  But  whisht !  the  Court 
is  gaun  to  pronounce  the  interlocutor  of  relevancy." 

And  accordingly  the  Judges,  after  a  few  words,  recorded 
their  judgment,  which  bore,  that  the  indictment,  if  proved, 
was  relevant  to  infer  the  pains  of  law  ;  and  that  the  defence, 
that  the  panel  had  communicated  her  situation  to  her  sister, 
was  a  relevant  defence ;  and,  finally,  appointed  the  said  in- 
dictment and  defence  to  be  submitted  to  the  judgment  of  an 
assize. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

Most  righteous  judge  !  a  sentence.     Come,  prepare. 

Merchant  of  Venice. 

It  is  by  no  means  my  intention  to  describe  minntely  the 
forms  of  a  Scottish  criminal  trial,  nor  am  I  sure  that  I  could 
draw  up  an  account  so  intelligible  and  accurate  as  to  abide 
the  criticism  of  the  gentlemen  of  the  long  robe.  It  is  enough 
to  say  that  the  jury  was  impanelled,  and  the  case  proceeded. 
The  prisoner  was  again  required  to  plead  to  the  charge,  and 
she  again  replied,  "  Not  Guilty,"  in  the  same  heart-thrilling 
tone  as  before. 

The  crown  counsel  then  called  two  or  three  female  witnesses, 
by  whose  testimony  it  was  established  that  Effie's  situation  had 
been  remarked  by  them,  that  they  had  taxed  her  with  the 
fact,  and  that  iier  answers  had  amonnted  to  an  angry  and 
petulant  denial  of  what  they  charged  her  with.  But,  as  very 
frequently  happens,  the  declaration  of  the  panel  or  accused 
party  herself  was  the  evidence  which  bore  hardest  upon  her 
case. 

In  the  event  of  these  Tales  ever  finding  their  way  across 
the  Border,  it  may  be  proper  to  apprise  the  southern  reader 
that  it  is  the  practice  in  Scotland,  on  apprehending  a  sus- 
pected person,  to  subject  him  to  a  judicial  examination  be- 
fore a  magistrate.  He  is  not  compelled  to  answer  any  of  the 
questions  asked  of  him,  but  may  remain  silent  if  he  sees  it  his 
interest  to  do  so.  But  whatever  answers  he  chooses  to  give 
are  formally  written  down,  and  being  subscribed  by  himself 
and  the  magistrate,  are  produced  against  the  accused  in  case 
of  his  being  brought  to  trial.  It  is  true,  that  these  declara- 
tions are  not  produced  as  being  in  themselves  evidence  j)rop- 
erly  so  called,  but  only  as  adminicles  of  testimony,  tendmg  to 
corroborate  what  is  considered  as  legal  and  proper  evidence. 
Notwithstanding  this  nice  distinction^  however,  introduced 
by  lawyers  to  reconcile  this  procedure  to  their  own  general 
rule,  that  a  man  cannot  be  required  to  bear  witness  against 
himself,  it  nevertheless  usually  happens  that  these  declara- 
tions become  the  means  of  condemning  the  accused,  as  it 

9(U 


222  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

were,  out  of  their  own  months.  The  prisoner,  upon  these 
previous  examinations,  has  indeed  the  privilege  of  remaining 
silent  if  he  pleases  ;  but  every  man  necessarily  feels  that  a  re- 
fusal to  answer  natural  and  pertinent  interrogatories,  put  by 
judicial  authority,  is  in  itself  a  strong  proof  of  guilt,  and  will 
certainly  lead  to  his  being  committed  to  prison ;  and  few  can 
renounce  the  lioj^e  of  obtaining  liberty  by  giving  some  spe- 
cious account  of  themselves,  and  showing  apparent  frankness 
in  explaining  their  motives  and  accounting  for  their  conduct. 
It  therefore  seldom  happens  that  the  prisoner  refuses  to  give 
a  judicial  declaration,  in  which,  nevertheless,  either  by  let- 
ting out  too  much  of  the  truth,  or  by  endeavoring  to  substi- 
tute a  fictitious  story,  he  almost  always  exposes  himself  to 
suspicion  and  to  contradictions,  which  weigh  heavily  in  the 
minds  of  the  jury. 

The  declaration  of  Effie  Deans  was  uttered  on  other  prin- 
ciples, and  the  following  is  a  sketch  of  its  contents,  given  in 
the  judicial  form  in  which  they  may  still  be  found  in  the 
Books  of  AcljouDiaL 

The  declarant  admitted  a  criminal  intrigue  with  an  indi- 
vidual whose  name  she  desired  to  conceal.  "  Being  interro- 
gated, what  her  reason  was  for  secrecy  on  this  point  ?  She 
declared,  that  she  had  no  right  to  blame  that  person's  conduct 
more  than  she  did  her  own,  and  that  she  was  willing  to  con- 
fess her  own  faults,  but  not  to  say  anything  which  might 
criminate  the  absent.  Interrogated,  if  she  confessed  her 
situation  to  any  one,  or  made  any  preparation  for  her  confine- 
ment ?  Declares,  she  did  not.  And  being  interrogated,  why 
she  forbore  to  take  steps  which  her  situation  so  peremptorily 
required  ?  Declares,  she  was  ashamed  to  tell  her  friends,  and 
she  trusted  the  person  she  has  mentioned  would  provide  for 
her  and  the  infant.  Interrogated,  if  he  did  so  ?  Declares, 
that  he  did  not  do  so  personally  ;  but  that  it  was  not  his 
fault,  for  that  the  declarant  is  convinced  he  would  have  laid 
down  his  life  sooner  than  the  bairn  or  she  had  come  to  harm. 
Interrogated,  what  prevented  him  from  keeping  his  promise  ? 
Declares,  that  it  was  impossible  for  him  to  do  so,  he  being 
under  trouble  at  the  time,  and  declines  further  answer  to  this 
question.  Interrogated,  where  she  was  from  the  period  she 
left  her  master,  Mr.  Saddletree's  family,  until  her  appearance 
at  her  father's,  at  St.  Leonard's,  the  day  before  she  was  ap- 
prehended ?  Declares,  she  does  not  remember.  And,  on  the 
interrogatory  being  repeated,  declares,  she  does  not  mind 
muckle  about  it,  for  she  was  very  ill.  On  the  question  being 
again  repeated,  she  declares,  she  will  tell  the  truth,  if  it 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  SfiS 

should  be  the  nndoing  of  her,  so  long  as  she  is  not  asked  to 

tell  on  other  folk  ;  and  admits,  that  she  passed  that  interval 
of  time  in  the  lodging  of  a  woman,  an  acquaintance  of  that 
person  who  had  wished  her  to  that  place  to  be  delivered,  and 
tliat  she  was  tliere  delivered  accordingly  of  a  male  child.  In- 
terrogated, what  was  the  name  of  that  person  ?  Declares 
and  refuses  to  answer  this  question.  Interrogated,  where 
she  lives  ?  Declares,  she  has  no  certainty,  for  that  she  was 
taken  to  the  lodging  aforesaid  under  cloud  of  night.  Interro- 
gated, if  the  lodging  was  in  the  city  or  suburbs  ?  Declares 
and  refuses  to  answer  that  question.  Interrogated,  whether, 
when  she  left  the  house  of  Mr.  Saddletree,  she  went  up  or 
down  the  street  ?  Declares  and  refuses  to  answer  the  ques- 
tion. Interrogated,  whether  she  had  ever  seen  the  woman 
before  she  was  wished  to  her,  as  she  termed  it,  by  the  person 
whose  name  she  refuses  to  answer  ?  Declares  and  replies, 
not  to  her  knowledge.  Interrogated,  whether  this  woman 
was  introduced  to  her  by  the  said  person  verbally,  or  by  word  of 
mouth  ?  Declares,  she  has  no  freedom  to  answer  this  ques- 
tion. Interrogated,  if  the  child  was  alive  when  it  was  born  ? 
Declares,  that — God  help  her  and  it ! — it  certainly  was  alive. 
Interrogated,  if  it  died  a  natural  death  after  birth  ?  Declares, 
not  to  her  knowledge.  Interrogated,  where  it  now  is  ?  De- 
clares, she  would  give  her  right  hand  to  ken,  but  that  she 
never  hopes  to  see  mair  than  the  banes  of  it.  And  being 
interrogated,  why  she  supposes  it  is  now  dead  ?  the  declarant 
wept  bitterly,  and  made  no  answer.  Interrogated,  if  the 
woman  in  whose  lodging  she  was  seemed  to  be  a  fit  person  to 
be  with  her  in  that  situation  ?  Declares,  she  might  be  fit 
enough  for  skill,  but  that  she  was  a  hard-hearted  bad  woman. 
Interrogated,  if  there  was  any  other  person  in  the  lodging 
excepting  themselves  two  ?  Declares,  that  she  thinks  there 
was  another  woman  ;  but  her  head  was  so  carried  with  pain 
of  body  and  trouble  of  mind  that  she  minded  her  very  little. 
Interrogated,  when  the  child  was  taken  away  from  her  ?  De- 
clared, that  slie  fell  in  a  fever,  and  was  light-headed,  and  when 
she  came  to  her  own  mind  the  woman  told  her  the  bairn  was 
dead  ;  and  that  the  declarant  answered,  if  it  was  dead  it  had 
had  foul  play.  That,  thereupon,  the  woman  was  very  sair  om 
her,  and  gave  her  much  ill  language  ;  and  that  the  deponent 
was  frightened,  and  crawled  out  of  tlie  house  when  her  back 
was  turned,  and  went  home  to  St.  Leonard's  Crags,  as  well  as 
a  woman  in  her  condition  dought.  Interrogated,  why  she  did 
not  tell  her  story  to  her  sister  and  father,  and  get  force  to 
search  the  house  for  her  child,  dead  or  alive  ?    Declares,  it 


3-.'4  WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 

was  her  purpose  to  do  so,  but  she  had  not  time.  Interrogated, 
why  she  now  conceals  the  name  of  the  woman,  and  the  place 
of  her  abode  ?  The  declarant  remained  silent  for  a  time,  and 
then  said,  that  to  do  so  could  not  repair  the  skaith  that  was 
done,  but  might  be  the  occasion  of  more.  Interrogated, 
whether  she  had  herself,  at  any  time,  had  any  purpose  of  put- 
ting away  the  child  by  violence  ?  Declares,  never  ;  so  might 
Grod  be  merciful  to  lier  ;  and  then  again  declares,  never,  when 
she  was  in  her  perfect  senses ;  but  what  bad  thoughts  the 
Enemy  might  put  into  her  brain  when  she  was  out  of  her- 
self, slie  cannot  answer.  And  again  solemnly  interrogated,  de- 
clares, that  she  would  have  been  drawn  with  wild  horses  rather 
than  have  touched  the  bairn  with  an  unmotherly  hand.  In- 
terrogated, declares,  that  among  the  ill  language  the  woman 
gave  her,  she  did  say  sure  enough  that  the  declarant  had  hurt 
the  l)airn  when  she  was  in  the  brain  fever  ;  but  that  the 
declarant  does  not  believe  that  she  said  this  from  any  other 
cause  than  to  frighten  her,  and  make  her  be  silent.  Interro- 
gated, what  else  the  woman  said  to  her  ?  Declares,  that  when 
the  declarant  cried  loud  for  her  bairn,  and  was  like  to  raise 
the  neighbors,  the  woman  threatened  her,  that  they  that  could 
stop  the  wean's  skirling  would  stop  hers,  if  she  did  not  keep 
a'  the  lounder.  And  that  this  threat,  with  the  manner  of  the 
woman,  made  the  declarant  conclude  that  the  bairn's  life  was 
gone,  and  her  own  in  danger,  for  that  the  woman  was  a  desper- 
ate bad  woman,  as  the  declarant  judged,  from  the  language 
she  used.  Interrogated,  declares,  that  the  fever  and  delirium 
were  brought  on  her  by  hearing  bad  news,  suddenly  told  to 
her,  but  refuses  to  say  what  the  said  news  related  to.  Interro- 
gated, why  she  does  not  now  communicate  these  particulars, 
which  might,  perhaps,  enable  the  magistrate  to  ascertain 
whether  the  child  is  living  or  dead,  and  requested  to  observe, 
that  lier  refusing  to  do  so  exposes  her  own  life,  and  leaves  the 
child  in  bad  hands,  as  also,  that  her  present  refusal  to  answer 
on  such  points  is  inconsistent  with  her  alleged  intention  to  make 
a  clean  breast  to  her  sister  ?  Declares,  that  she  kens  the  bairn 
is  now  dead,  or,  if  living,  there  is  one  that  will  look  after 
it ;  that  for  her  own  living  or  dying,  she  is  in  God's  hands, 
who  knows  her  innocence  of  harming  her  bairn  with  her  will 
or  knowledge  ;  and  that  she  has  altered  her  resolution  of  speak- 
ing out,  which  she  entertained  when  she  left  the  woman's 
lodging,  on  account  of  a  matter  which  she  has  since  learned. 
And  declares,  in  general,  that  slie  is  wearied,  and  will  answer 
no  more  questions  at  this  time." 

Upon  a  subsequent  examination,  Euphemia  Deans  adhered 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  225 

to  the  declaration  she  had  formerly  made,  with  this  addition, 
that  a  paper  found  in  her  trunk  being  shown  to  her,  she  ad- 
mitted that  it  contained  the  credentials  in  consequence  of 
which  slie  resigned  herself  to  the  conduct  of  the  woman  at 
whose  lodgings  slie  was  delivered  of  the  child.  Its  tenor  ran 
thus : 

''Dearest  Effie, 

"  I  have  gotten  the  means  to  send  to  you  by  a  woman  who 

is  well  qualified  to  assist  you  in  your  approaching  streight ; 
she  is  not  what  I  could  wish  her,  but  I  cannot  do  better  for 
you  in  my  present  condition.  I  am  obliged  to  trust  to  her  in 
this  present  calamity,  for  myself  and  you  too.  I  hope  for  the 
best,  though  I  am  now  in  a  sore  pinch  ;  yet  thought  is  free. 
I  think  Handle  Dandie  and  I  may  queer  the  stiller  for  all  that 
is  come  and  gone.  You  will  be  angry  for  me  writing  this  to 
my  little  Cameronian  Lily ;  but  if  I  can  but  live  to  be  a  com- 
fort to  you,  and  a  father  to  your  baby,  you  will  have  plenty 
of  time  to  scold.  Once  more,  let  none  know  your  counsel. 
My  life  depends  on  this  hag,  d — n  her  ;  she  is  both  deep  and 
dangerous,  but  she  has  more  wiles  and  wit  than  ever  were  in 
a  beldam's  head,  and  has  cause  to  be  true  to  me.  Farewell, 
my  Lily.  Do  not  droop  on  my  account ;  in  a  week  I  will  be 
yours,  or  no  more  my  own.^' 

Then  followed  a  postscript.  ' '  If  they  must  truss  me,  I  will 
repent  of  nothing  so  much,  even  at  the  last  hard  pinch,  as 
of  the  injury  I  have  done  my  Lily.'' 

Effie  refused  to  say  from  whom  she  had  received  this  let- 
ter, but  enough  of  the  story  was  now  known  to  ascertain  that 
it  came  from  Robertson  ;  and  from  the  date  it  appeared  to 
have  been  written  about  the  time  when  Andrew  Wilson,  called 
for  a  nickname  Handle  Dandie,  and  he  were  meditating  their 
first  abortive  attempt  to  escape,  which  miscarried  in  the  man- 
ner mentioned  in  the  beginning  of  this  history. 

The  evidence  of  the  crown  being  concluded,  the  counsel 
for  the  prisoner  began  to  lead  a  proof  in  her  defence.  The 
first  witnesses  were  examined  upon  the  girl's  character.  All 
gave  her  an  excellent  one,  but  none  with  more  feeling  than 
worthy  Mrs.  Saddletree,  who,  with  the  tears  on  her  cheeks, 
declared,  that  she  could  not  have  had  a  higher  opinion  of 
Effie  Deans,  nor  a  more  sincere  regard  for  her,  if  she  had 
been  her  own  daughter.  All  present  gave  the  honest  woman 
credit  for  her  goodness  of  heart,  excepting  her  husband,  who 
whispered  to  Dumbiedikes,  "That  Nichil  No vit  of  yours  is 


336  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

but  9  raw  hand  at  leading  evidence,  I^m  thinking.  What 
signified  his  bringing  a  woman  here  to  snotter  and  snivel,  and 
bather  their  Lordships  ?  He  should  hae  ceeted  me,  sir,  and 
I  should  hae  gien  them  sic  a  screed  o'  testimony,  they  shouldna 
hae  touched  a  hair  o'  her  head/' 

"  Hadna  ye  better  get  up  and  try't  yet  ?"  said  the  Laird. 
"  I'll  mak  a  sign  to  Novit." 

"  Na,  na,"said  Saddletree,  "  thank  ye  fornaething,  neigh- 
bor :  that  would  be  ultroneous  evidence,  and  I  ken  what  be- 
langs  to  that ;  but  Nichil  Novit  suld  hae  had  me  ceeted 
debit 0  teinpore."  And  wiping  his  mouth  with  his  silk  hand- 
kerchief with  great  importance,  he  resumed  the  port  and 
manner  of  an  edified  and  intelligent  auditor. 

Mr.  Fairbrother  now  premised,  in  a  few  words,  ''that he 
meant  to  bring  forward  his  most  important  witness,  upon 
whose  evidence  the  cause  must  in  a  great  measure  depend. 
What  his  client  was,  they  had  learned  from  the  preceding 
witnesses ;  and  so  far  as  general  character,  given  in  the  most 
forcible  terms,  and  even  with  tears,  could  interest  every  one 
in  her  fate,  she  had  already  gained  that  advantage.  It  was 
necessary,  he  admitted,  that  he  should  produce  more  positive 
testimony  of  her  innocence  than  what  arose  out  of  general 
character,  and  this  he  undertook  to  do  by  the  mouth  of  the 
person  to  whom  she  had  communicated  her  situation — by  the 
mouth  of  her  natural  counsellor  and  guardian — her  sister. 
Macer,  call  into  court  Jean  or  Jeanie  Deans,  daughter  of 
David  Deans,  cow-feeder,  at  St.  Leonard's  Crags." 

When  he  uttered  these  words,  the  poor  prisoner  instantly 
started  up  and  stretched  herself  half-way  over  the  bar,  towards 
the  side  at  which  her  sister  was  to  enter.  And  when,  slowly 
following  the  officer,  the  witness  advanced  to  the  foot  of  the 
table,  Effie,  witli  the  whole  expression  of  her  countenance 
altered  from  that  of  confused  shame  and  dismay  to  an  eager, 
imploring,  and  almost  ecstatic  earnestness  of  entreaty,  with 
outstretched  hands,  hair  streaming  back,  eyes  raised  eagerly 
to  her  sister's  face,  and  glistening  through  tears,  exclaimed, 
in  atone  which  went  through  the  heart  of  all  who  heard  her — 
*'  0  Jeanie — Jeanie,  save  me — save  me  ! " 

With  a  different  feeling,  yet  equally  appropriated  to  his 
proud  and  self-dependent  character,  old  Deans  drew  himself 
back  still  further  under  the  cover  of  the  bench  ;  so  that  when 
Jeanie,  as  she  entered  the  court,  cast  a  timid  glance  towards 
the  place  at  which  she  had  left  him  seated,  his  venerable  fig- 
ure was  no  longer  visible.  He  sat  down  on  the  other  side  of 
Dumbiedikes,  wrung  his  hand  hard,  and  whispered,  "Ah, 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  ^Sfl 

Laird,  this  is  warst  of  a' — if  I  can  but  win  ower  this  part !  I 
feel  my  head  unco  dizzy  ;  but  my  Master  is  strong  in  His  ser- 
vant's weakness."  After  a  moment's  mental  prayer,  he  again 
started  up,  as  if  impatient  of  continuing  in  any  one  posture, 
and  gradually  edged  himself  forward  towards  the  place  he  had 
just  quitted. 

Jeanie  in  the  meantime  had  advanced  to  the  bottom  of 
the  table,  when,  unable  to  resist  the  impulse  of  affection,  she 
suddenly  extended  her  hand  to  her  sister.  Effie  was  just 
within  the  distance  that  she  could  seize  it  with  both  hers, 
press  it  to  her  mouth,  cover  it  with  kisses,  and  bathe  it  in 
tears,  with  the  fond  devotion  that  a  Catholic  would  pay  to  a 
guardian  saint  descended  for  his  safety  ;  while  Jeanie,  hiding 
her  own  face  with  her  other  hand,  wept  bitterly.  The  sight 
would  have  moved  a  heart  of  stone,  much  more  of  flesh  and 
blood.  Many  of  the  spectators  shed  tears,  and  it  was  some 
time  before  the  presiding  Judge  himself  could  so  far  subdue 
his  emotion  as  to  request  the  witness  to  compose  herself,  and 
the  prisoner  to  forbear  those  marks  of  eager  affection,  which, 
however  natural,  could  not  be  permitted  at  that  time  and  in 
that  presence. 

The  solemn  oath — "  the  truth  to  tell,  and  no  truth  to  con- 
ceal, as  far  as  she  knew  or  should  be  asked,"  was  then  admin- 
istered by  the  Judge  "  in  the  name  of  God,  and  as  the  wit- 
ness should  answer  to  God  at  the  great  day  of  judgment ; "  an 
awful  adjuration,  which  seldom  fails  to  make  impression  even 
on  the  most  hardened  characters,  and  to  strike  with  fear  even 
the  most  upright.  Jeanie,  educated  in  deep  and  devout 
reverence  for  the  name  and  attributes  of  the  Deity,  was,  by 
the  solemnity  of  a  direct  appeal  to  His  person  and  justice, 
awed,  but  at  the  same  time  elevated  above  all  considerations 
save  those  which  she  could,  with  a  clear  conscience,  call 
Him  to  witness.  She  repeated  the  form  in  a  low  and  reverent, 
but  distinct,  tone  of  voice  after  the  Judge,  to  whom,  and  not 
to  any  inferior  officer  of  the  court,  the  task  is  assigned  in 
Scotland  of  directing  the  witness  in  that  solemn  appeal 
which  is  the  sanction  of  his  testimony. 

When  the  Judge  had  finished  the  established  form,  he 
added,  in  a  feeling,  but  yet  a  monitory,  tone,  an  advice  which 
the  circumstances  appeared  to  him  to  call  for. 

"  Young  woman,"  these  were  his  words,  '' you  corae  before 
this  Court  in  circumstances  which  it  would  be  worse  than 
cruel  not  to  pity  and  to  sympathize  with.  Yet  it  is  my  duty 
to  tell  you,  that  the  truth,  whatever  its  consequences  may  be 
' — the  truth  is  what  you  owe  to  your  country,  and  to  that  God 


228  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

whose  word  is  truth,  and  whose  name  you  have  now  invoked. 
Use  your  own  time  in  answering  the  questions  that  gentleman 
[pointing  to  the  counsel]  shall  put  to  you.  But  remember, 
that  for  what  you  may  be  tempted  to  say  beyond  what  is  the 
actual  truth,  you  must  answer  both  here  and  hereafter.'' 

The  usual  questions  were  then  put  to  her  :  Whether  any 
one  had  instructed  her  what  evidence  she  had  to  deliver  ? 
Whether  any  one  had  given  or  promised  her  any  good  deed, 
hire,  or  reward  for  her  testimony  ?  Whether  she  had  any 
malice  or  ill-will  at  his  Majesty's  Advocate,  being  the  party 
against  whom  she  was  cited  as  a  witness  ?  To  which  ques- 
tions she  successively  answered  by  a  quiet  negative.  But  their 
tenor  gave  great  scandal  and  ott'ence  to  her  father,  who  was 
not  aware  that  they  are  put  to  every  witness  as  a  matter  of 
form. 

"  Na,  na,''  he  exclaimed,  loud  enough  to  be  heard,  "  my 
bairn  is  no  like  the  widow  of  Tekoah  :  nae  man  has  putten 
words  into  her  mouth." 

"  One  of  the  Judges,  better  acquainted,  perhaps,  with  the 
Books  of  Adjo^irnal  than  with  the  Book  of  Samuel,  was  dis- 
posed to  make  some  instant  inquiry  after  this  widow  of  Te- 
koah, who,  as  he  construed  the  matter,  had  been  tampering 
with  the  evidence.  But  the  presiding  Judge,  better  versed  in 
Scripture  history,  whispered  to  his  learned  brother  the  neces- 
sary explanation  ;  and  the  pause  occasioned  by  this  mistake 
had  the  good  effect  of  giving  Jeanie  Deans  time  to  collect  her 
spirits  for  the  painful  task  she  had  to  perform. 

Fairbrother,  whose  practice  and  intelligence  were  consid- 
erable, saw  the  necessity  of  letting  the  witness  compose  her- 
self. In  his  heart  he  suspected  that  she  came  to  bear  false 
witness  in  her  sister's  cause. 

"  But  that  is  her  own  affair,"  thought  Fairbrother  ;  "  and 
it  is  my  business  to  see  that  she  has  plenty  of  time  to  regain 
composure,  and  to  deliver  her  evidence,  be  it  true  or  be  it 
false,  valeat  quantum." 

Accordingly,  he  commenced  his  interrogatories  with  un- 
interesting questions,  which  admitted  of  instant  reply. 

"  You  are,  I  think,  the  sister  of  the  prisoner  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

**  Not  the  full  sister,  however  ?  " 

"  No,  sir  ;  we  are  by  different  mothers." 

*'  True  ;  and  you  are,  I  think,  several  years  older  than 
your  sister  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  etc. 

After  the  advocate  had  conceived  that,  by  these  prelimi- 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  239 

nary  and  unimportant  questions,  he  had  familiarized  the  wit- 

ness  with  tlie  situation  in  which  she  stood,  he  asked,  '*  whether 
she  had  not  remarked  lier  sister's  state  of  health  to  be  altered, 
during  the  latter  part  of  the  term  when  she  had  lived  with 
Mrs.  Saddletree  ?  '\ 

Jeanie  answered  in  the  affirmative. 

"  And  she  told  you  the  cause  of  it,  my  dear,  I  suppose  H" 
said  Fairbrother,  in  an  easy,  and,  as  one  may  say,  an  inductive 
sort  of  tone. 

"I am  sorry  to  interrupt  my  brother, '^  said  the  Crown 
Counsel,  rising,  "  but  I  am  in  your  Lordships'  judgment, 
whether  this  be  not  a  leading  question  ?'" 

"'  If  this  point  is  to  be  debated,"  said  the  presiding  Judge, 
*' the  witness  must  be  removed." 

For  the  Scottish  lawyers  regard  with  a  sacred  and  scrupu- 
lous horror  every  question  so  shaped  by  the  counsel  examiniug 
as  to  convey  to  a  witness  the  least  intimation  of  the  nature  of 
the  answer  which  is  desired  from  him.  These  scruples,  though 
founded  on  an  excellent  principle,  are  sometimes  carried  to  an 
absurd  pitch  of  nicety,  especially  as  it  is  generally  easy  for  a 
lawyer  who  has  his  wits  about  him  to  elude  the  objection. 
Fairbrother  did  so  in  the  present  case. 

"  It  is  not  necessary  to  waste  the  time  of  the  Court,  my 
lord  ;  since  the  King's  Counsel  thinks  it  worth  while  to 
object  to  the  form  of  my  question,  I  will  shape  it  otherwise. 
Pray,  young  woman,  did  you  ask  your  sister  any  question 
when  you  observed  her  looking  unwell  ?  Take  courage — speak 
out." 

'*  I  asked  her,"  replied  Jeanie,  "  what  ailed  her." 

"  Very  well — take  your  own  time — and  what  was  the  an- 
swer she  made  ?  "  continued  Mr.  Fairbrother. 

Jeanie  was  silent,  and  looked  deadly  pale.  It  was  not  that 
she  at  any  one  instant  entertained  an  idea  of  the  possibility  of 
prevarication  :  it  was  the  natural  hesitation  to  extinguishthe 
last  spark  of  hope  that  remained  for  her  sister. 

"Take  courage,  young  woman,"  said  Fairbrother.  ''I 
asked  what  your  sister  said  ailed  her  when  you  inquired  ?  " 

"  Nothing,"  answered  Jeanie,  with  a  faint  voice,  which  was 
yet  heard  distinctly  in  the  most  distant  corner  of  the  court- 
room— such  an  awful  and  profound  silence  had  been  preserved 
during  the  anxious  interval  which  had  interposed  betwixt  the 
lawyer's  question  and  the  answer  of  the  witness. 

Fairbrother's  countenance  fell ;  but  with  that  ready  pres- 
ence of  mind  which  is  as  useful  in  civil  as  in  military  emergen- 
cies, he  immediately  rallied.     "Nothing?    True  ;  you  mean 


230  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

nothing  at  first;  but  when  yon  asked  her  again,  did  she  not 
tell  you  what  ailed  her  ? " 

The  question  was  put  in  a  tone  meant  to  make  her  compre- 
hend the  importance  of  her  answer,  had  she  not  been  already 
aware  of  it.  The  ice  was  broken,  however,  and  with  less  pause 
than  at  first,  she  now  replied — "  Alack !  alack  !  she  never 
breathed  word  to  me  about  it/' 

A  deep  groan  passed  through  the  Court.  It  was  echoed  by 
one  deeper'and  more  agonized  from  the  unfortunate  father. 
The  hope,  to  which  unconsciously,  and  in  spite  of  himself,  he 
had  still  secretly  clung,  had  now  dissolved,  and  the  venerable 
old  man  fell  forward  senseless  on  the  floor  of  the  court-house, 
with  his  head  at  the  foot  of  his  terrified  daughter.  The  unfort- 
unate prisoner,  with  impotent  passion,  strove  with  the  guards 
betwixt  whom  she  was  placed.  "  Let  me  gang  to  my  father  ! 
I  tvill  gang  to  him — I  loill  gang  to  him  ;  he  is  dead — he  is 
killed  ;  I  hae  killed  him  !  "  she  repeated,  in  frenzied  tones  of 
grief,  which  those  who  heard  them  did  not  speedily  forget. 

Even  in  this  moment  of  agony  and  general  confusion,  Jeanie 
did  not  lose  that  superiority  which  a  deep  and  firm  mind  assures 
to  its  possessor  under  the  most  trying  circumstances. 

"  He  is  my  father — he  is  our  father,"  she  mildly  repeated 
to  those  who"  endeavored  to  separate  them,  as  she  stooped, 
shaded  aside  his  gray  hairs,  and  began  assiduously  to  chafe  his 
temples. 

The  Judge,  after  repeatedly  wiping  his  eyes,  gave  directions 
that  they  should  be  conducted  into  a  neighboring  apartment, 
and  carefully  attended.  The  prisoner,  as  her  father  was  borne 
from  the  court,  and  her  sister  slowly  followed,  pursued  them 
with  her  eyes  so  earnestly  fixed,  as  if  they  would  have  started 
from  theirsockets.  But  when  they  were  no  longer  visible,  she 
seemed  to  find,  in  her  despairing  and  deserted  state,  a  courage 
which  she  had  not  yet  exhibited. 

"  The  bitterness  of  it  is  now  past,"  slie  said,  and  then  boldly 
addressed  the  Court.  "  My  lords,  if  it  is  your  pleasure  to  gang 
on  wi'  this  matter,  the  weariest  day  will  hae  its  end  at  last." 

The  Judge,  who,  much  to  his  honor,  had  shared  deeply  in 
the  general  sympathy,  was  surprised  at  being  recalled  to  his 
duty  by  the  prisoner.  He  collected  himself,  and  requested  to 
know  if  the  panel's  counsel  had  more  evidence  to  produce. 
Fairbrother  replied,  with  an  air  of  dejection, that  his  proof 
was  concluded. 

The  King's  Counsel  addressed  the  jury  for  the  crown.  He 
said  in  few  words,  that  no  one  could  be  more  concerned  than 
he  was  for  the  distressing  scene  which  they  had  just  witnessed. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  981 

Bnt  it  was  the  necessary  consequence  of  great  crimes  to  bring 
distress  and  ruin  upon  all  connected  with  the  perpetrators. 
He  briefly  reviewed  the  proof,  in  which  he  showed  that  all  the 
circumstances  of  the  case  concurred  with  those  required  by 
the  act  under  which  the  unfortunate  prisoner  was  tried  :  that 
the  counsel  for  the  panel  had  totally  failed  in  proving  that 
Euphemia  Deans  had  communicated  her  situation  to  her  sis- 
ter ;  that,  respecting  her  previous  good  character,  he  was 
sorry  to  observe,  that  it  was  females  who  possessed  the  world's 
good  report,  and  to  whom  it  was  justly  valuable,  who  were 
most  strongly  tempted,  by  shame  and  fear  of  the  world's  cen- 
sure, to  the  crime  of  infanticide  ;  that  the  child  was  murdered, 
he  professed  to  entertain  no  doubt.  The  vacillating  and  in- 
consistent declaration  of  the  prisoner  herself,  marked  as  it 
was  by  numerous  refusals  to  speak  the  truth  on  subjects  when, 
according  to  her  own  story,  it  would  have  been  natural,  as 
well  as  advantageous,  to  have  been  candid — even  this  imper- 
fect declaration  left  no  doubt  in  his  mind  as  to  the  fate  of  the 
unhappy  infant.  Neither  could  he  doubt  that  the  panel  was 
a  partner  in  this  guilt.  Who  else  had  an  interest  in  a  deed  so 
inhuman  ?  Surely  neither  Robertson,  nor  Robertson's  agent, 
in  whose  house  she  was  delivered,  had  the  least  tempta- 
tion to  commit  such  a  crime,  unless  upon  her  account,  with 
her  connivance,  and  for  the  sake  of  saving  her  reputation. 
But  it  was  not  required  of  him  by  the  law  that  he  should 
bring  precise  proof  of  the  murder,  or  of  the  prisoner's  acces- 
sion to  it.  It  was  the  very  purpose  of  the  statute  to  substi- 
tute a  certain  chain  of  presumptive  evidence  in  place  of  a  pro- 
bation, which,  in  such  cases,  it  was  peculiarly  difficult  to 
obtain.  The  jury  might  peruse  the  statute  itself,  and  they 
had  also  the  libel  and  interlocutor  of  relevancy  to  direct  them 
in  point  of  law.  He  put  it  to  the  conscience  of  the  jury, 
that  under  both  he  was  entitled  to  a  verdict  of  Guilty. 

The  charge  of  Fairbrother  was  much  cramped  by  his  hav- 
ing failed  in  the  proof  which  he  expected  to  lead.  But  he 
fought  his  losing  cause  with  courage  and  constancy.  He 
v<sntured  to  arraign  the  severity  of  the  statute  under  which  the 
young  woman  was  tried.  "In  all  other  cases,'" he  said,  ''the 
first  thing  required  of  the  criminal  prosecutor  was,  to  prove 
unequivocally  tbat  the  crime  libelled  had  actually  been  com- 
mitted, which  lawyers  called  proving  the  corpus  delicti.  But 
this  statute,  made  doubtless  with  the  best  intentions,  and 
under  the  impulse  of  a  just  horror  for  the  unnatural  crime  of 
infanticide,  run  the  risk  of  itself  occasioning  the  worst  of 
murders,  the  death  of  an  innocent  person,  to  atone  for  a  sup- 


282  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

posed  crime  which  may  never  have  been  committed  by  any  one. 
He  was  so  far  from  acknowledging  the  alleged  probability  of 
the  child's  violent  death,  that  he  could  not  even  allow  that 
there  was  evidence  of  its  having  ever  lived." 

The  King's  Counsel  pointed  to  the  woman's  declaration  ; 
to  which  the  counsel  replied — "A  production  concocted  in 
a  moment  of  terror  and  agony,,  and  which  approached  to  in- 
sanity," he  said,  ''  his  learned  brother  well  knew  was  no 
sound  evidence  against  the  party  who  emitted  it.  It  was 
true,  that  a  Judicial  confession,  in  presence  of  the  justices 
themselves,  was  the  strongest  of  all  proof,  in  so  much  that  it 
is  said  in  law,  that*^  in  confitentem  nullce  sunt  partes  nulicis' 
But  this  was  true  of  judicial  confession  only,  by  which  law 
meant  that  which  is  made  in  presence  of  the  justices  and  the 
sworn  inquest.  Of  extrajudicial  confession,  all  authorities 
held  with  the  illustrious  Farinaceus  and  Matheus,  'confessio 
extrajudicialis  in  se  iiulla  est;  et  quod  nullum  est,  non  po- 
test adminiculari.'  It  was  totally  inept,  and  void  of  all 
strength  and  effect  from  the  beginning  ;  incapable,  therefore, 
of  being  bolstered  up  or  supported,  or,  according  to  the  law- 
phrase,  adminiculated,  by  other  presumptive  circumstances. 
In  the  present  case,  therefore,  letting  the  extrajudicial  con- 
fession go,  as  it  ought  to  go,  for  nothing,"  he  contended, 
"  the  prosecutor  had  not  made  out  the  second  quality  of  the 
statute,  that  a  live  child  had  been  born ;  and  that,  at  least, 
ought  to  be  established  before  presumptions  were  received 
that  it  had  been  murdered.  If  any  of  the  assize,"  he  said, 
"  should  be  of  opinion  that  this  was  dealing  rather  narrowly 
with  the  statute,  they  ought  to  consider  that  it  was  in  its 
nature  highly  penal,  and  therefore  entitled  to  no  favorable 
construction." 

He  concluded  a  learned  speech  with  an  eloquent  perora- 
tion on  the  scene  they  had  just  witnessed,  during  which  Sad- 
dletree fell  fast  asleep. 

It  was  now  the  presiding  Judge's  turn  to  address  the  jury. 
He  did  so  briefly  and  distinctly. 

''It  was  for  the  jury,"  he  said,  "to  consider  whether  the 
prosecutor  haa  made  out  his  plea.  For  himself,  he  sincerely 
grieved  to  say  that  a  shadow  of  doubt  remained  not  upon  his 
mind  concerning  the  verdict  which  the  inquest  had  to  bring 
in.  He  would  not  follow  the  prisoner's  counsel  through  the 
impeachment  which  he  had  brought  against  the  statute  of 
King  William  and  Queen  Mary.  He  and  the  jury  were  sworn 
to  judge  according  to  the  laws  as  they  stood,  not  to  criticise, 
or  to  evade,  or  even  to  justify  them.  \n  no  civil  case  would 
a  counsel  have  bep"  ^pfmitted  to  plead  his  client's  case  in  the 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  288 

teeth  of  the  law ;  but  in  the  hard  situation  in  which  cotinsel 
were  often  placed  in  the  Criminal  Court,  as  well  as  out  of 
favor  to  all  presumptions  of  innocence,  he  had  not  inclined  to 
interrupt  the  learned  gentleman,  or  narrow  his  plea.  The 
present  law,  as  it  now  stood,  had  been  instituted  by  the  wis- 
dom of  their  fathers,  to  check  the  alarming  progress  of  a  dread- 
ful crime ;  when  it  was  found  too  severe  for  its  purpose,  it 
would  doubtless  be  altered  by  the  wisdom  of  the  legislature  ; 
at  present  it  was  the  law  of  the  laud,  the  rule  of  the  court,  and, 
according  to  the  oath  which  they  had  taken,  it  must  be  that 
of  tlie  jury.  This  unhappy  girl's  situation  could  not  be 
doubted  :  that  she  had  borne  a  child,  and  that  the  child  had 
disappeared,  were  certain  facts.  The  learned  counsel  had 
failed  to  show  that  she  had  communicated  her  situation.  All 
the  requisites  of  the  case  required  by  the  statute  were  there- 
fore before  the  jury.  The  learned  gentleman  had,  indeed, 
desired  them  to  throw  out  of  consideration  the  panel's  own 
confession,  which  was  the  plea  usually  urged,  in  penury  of  all 
others,  by  counsel  in  his  situation,  who  usually  felt  that  the 
declarations  of  their  clients  bore  hard  on  them.  But  that  the 
Scottish  law  designed  that  a  certain  weight  should  be  laid  on 
these  declarations,  which,  he  admitted,  were  quodammodo  ex- 
trajudicial, was  evident  from  the  universal  practice  by  which 
they  were  always  produced  and  read,  as  part  of  the  prosecu- 
tor's probation.  In  the  present  case,  no  person  who  had  heard 
the  witnesses  describe  the  appearance  of  the  young  woman 
before  she  left  Saddletree's  house,  and  contrasted  it  with  that 
of  her  state  and  condition  at  her  return  to  her  father's,  could 
have  any  doubt  tliat  the  fact  of  delivery  had  taken  place,  as 
set  forth  in  her  own  declaration,  which  was,  therefore,  not  a 
solitary  piece  of  testimony,  but  adminiculated  and  supported 
by  the  strongest  circumstantial  proof. 

"  He  did  not,"  he  said,  '•  state  the  impression  upon  his  own 
mind  with  the  purpose  of  biassing  theirs.  He  had  felt  no  less 
than  they  had  done  from  tlie  scene  of  domestic  misery  which 
had  been  exhibited  before  them  ;  and  if  they,  having  God  and 
a  good  conscience,  the  sanctity  of  their  oath,  and  the  regard 
due  to  the  law  of  the  country,  before  their  eyes,  could  come 
to  a  conclusion  favorable  to  this  unhappy  prisoner,  he  should 
rejoice  as  much  as  any  one  in  Court ;  for  never  had  he  found 
nis  duty  more  distressing  than  in  discharging  it  that  day,  and 
glad  he  would  be  to  be  relieved  from  the  still  more  painful 
task  which  would  otherwise  remain  for  him." 

The  jury,  having  heard  the  Judge's  address,  bowed  and  re 
tired,  preceded  by  a  macer  of  Court,  to  the  apartment  destined 
for  their  deliberation. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

Law,  take  thy  victim.     May  she  find  the  mercy 

la  yon  mild  lieaven,  which  this  hard  world  denies  her ! 

It  was  an  lionr  ere  the  jarors  returned,  and  as  they  traversed 
the  crowd  with  slow  steps,  as  men  about  to  discharge  them- 
selves of  a  heavy  and  painful  responsibility,  the  audience  was 
hushed  into  profound,  earnest,  and  awful  silence. 

"  Have  you  agreed  on  your  chancellor,  gentlemen  ?"  was 
the  first  question  of  the  Judge. 

The  foreman,  called  in  Scotland  the  chancellor  of  the  jury, 
usually  the  man  of  best  rank  and  estimation  among  the  as- 
sizers, stepped  forward,  and,  with  a  low  reverence,  delivered 
to  the  Court  a  sealed  paper,  containing  the  verdict,  which, 
until  of  late  years  that  verbal  returns  are  in  some  instances 
permitted,  was  always  couched  in  writing.  The  jury  remained 
standing  while  the  Judge  broke  the  seals,  and,  having  perused 
the  paper,  handed  it,  Avith  an  air  of  mournful  gravity,  down 
to  the  Clerk  of  Court,  who  proceeded  to  engross  in  the  record 
the  yet  unknown  verdict,  of  which,  however,  all  omened  the 
tragical  contents.  A  form  still  remained,  trifling  and  unim- 
portant in  itself,  but  to  which  imagination  adds  a  sort  of  so- 
lemnity, from  the  awful  occasion  upon  which  it  is  used.  A 
lighted  candle  was  placed  on  tlie  table,  the  original  paper 
containing  the  verdict  was  enclosed  in  a  sheet  of  paper,  and, 
sealed  witli  the  Judge's  own  signet,  was  transmitted  to  the 
Grown  Office,  to  be  preserved  among  other  records  of  the  same 
kind.  As  all  this  is  transacted  in  profound  silence,  the  pro- 
ducing and  extinguishing  the  candle  seems  a  type  of  the  human 
spark  wliich  is  shortly  afterwards  doomed  to  be  quenched,  and 
excites  in  the  spectators  something  of  the  same  efl'ect  which 
in  England  is  obtained  by  the  Judge  assuming  the  fatal  cap 
of  judgment.  When  these  preliminary  forms  had  been  gone 
through,  the  Judge  required  Eupheraia  Deans  to  attend  to  the 
verdict  to  be  read. 

After  the  usual  words  of  style,  the  verdict  set  forth,  that 
the  jury,  having  made  choice  of  John  Kirk,  Esq.,  to  be 
their  chancellor,  and  Thomas  Moore,  merchant,  to  be  their 


•  THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  386 

clerk,  did,  by  a  plurality  of  voices,  find  the  said  Eupliemia 
Deans  Guilty  of  the  crime  libelled  ;  but,  in  consideration  of 
her  extreme  youth,  and  the  cruel  circumstances  of  her  case, 
did  earnestly  entreat  that  the  Judge  would  recommend  her  to 
the  mercy  of  the  Crown. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  the  Judge,  "  you  have  done  your  duty, 
and  a  painful  one  it  must  have  been  to  men  of  humanity  like 
you.  I  will,  undoubtedly,  transmit  your  recommendation  to 
the  throne.  But  it  is  my  duty  to  tell  all  who  now  hear  me, 
but  especially  to  inform  that  unhappy  young  woman,  in  order 
that  her  mind  may  be  settled  accordingly,  that  I  have  not  the 
least  hope  of  a  pardon  being  granted  in  the  present  case. 
You  know  the  crime  has  been  increasing  in  this  land,  and  I 
know  further,  that  this  has  been  ascribed  to  the  lenity  in  which 
the  laws  have  been  exercised,  and  that  there  is  therefore  no 
hope  whatever  of  obtaining  a  remission  for  this  offence.'' 
The  jury  bowed  again,  and,  released  from  their  painful  office, 
dispersed  themselves  among  the  mass  of  bystanders. 

The  Court  then  asked  Mr.  Fairbrother  wliether  he  had 
anything  to  say,  why  judgment  should  not  follow  on  the  ver- 
dict ?  The  counsel  had  spent  some  time  in  perusing  and 
re-perusing  the  verdict,  counting  the  letters  in  each  juror's 
name,  and  weighing  every  phrase,  nay,  every  syllable,  in  the 
nicest  scales  of  legal  criticism.  But  the  clerk  of  the  jury  had 
understood  his  business  too  well.  No  flaw  was  to  be  found, 
and  Fairbrother  mournfully  intimated  that  he  had  nothing  to 
say  in  arrest  of  judgment. 

The  presiding  Judge  then  addressed  the  unhappy  prisoner : 
*'Euphemia  Deans,  attend  to  the  sentence  of  the  Court  now 
to  be  pronounced  against  you." 

She  rose  from  her  seat,  and,  with  a  composure  far  greater 
than  could  have  been  augured  from  her  demeanor  during 
some  parts  of  the  trial,  abode  the  conclusion  of  the  awful 
scene.  So  nearly  does  the  mental  portion  of  our  feelings  re- 
semble those  which  are  corporal,  that  the  first  severe  blows 
which  we  receive  bring  with  them  a  stunning  apathy,  which 
renders  us  indifferent  to  those  that  follow  them.  Thus  said 
Mandrin,*  when  he  was  undergoing  the  punishment  of  the 
wheel ;  and  so  have  all  felt  upon  whom  successive  inflictions 
have  descended  with  continuous  and  reiterated  violence. 

"  Young  woman,"  said  the  Judge,  ''  it  is  my  painful  duty  to 
tell  you,  that  your  life  is  forfeited  under  a  law  which,  if  it  may 
seem  in  some  degree  severe,  is  yet  wisely  so,  to  render  those  of 

*  He  was  known  as  captain-general  of  French  smugglers.  See  a  Tract  on  his 
exploits,  printed  1753  iLaing) 


236  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

your  unhappy  situation  aware  what  risk  they  run,  by  conceal- 
ing, out  of  pride  or  false  shame,  their  lapse  from  virtue,  and 
making  no  preparation  to  save  the  lives  of  the  unfortunate 
infants  whom  they  are  to  bring  into  the  world.  When  you 
concealed  your  situation  from  your  mistress,  your  sister,  and 
other  worthy  and  compassionate  persons  of  your  own  sex,  in 
whose  favor  your  former  conduct  had  given  you  a  fair  place, 
you  seem  to  me  to  have  had  in  your  contemplation,  at  least, 
the  death  of  the  helpless  creature  for  whose  life  you  neglected 
to  provide.  How  the  child  was  disposed  of — whether  it  was 
dealt  upon  by  another,  or  by  yourself  ;  whether  the  extraor- 
dinary story  you  have  told  is  partly  false,  or  altogether  so,  is 
between  God  and  your  own  conscience.  I  will  not  aggravate 
your  distress  by  pressing  on  that  topic,  but  I  do  most  solemnly 
adjure  you  to  employ  the  remaining  space  of  your  time  in 
making  your  peace  with  Grod,  for  which  purpose  such  reverend 
clergyman  as  you  yourself  may  name  shall  have  access  to  you. 
Notwithstanding  the  humane  recommendation  of  the  jury,  I 
cannot  afford  to  you,  in  the  present  circumstances  of  the 
country,  the  slightest  hope  that  your  life  will  be  prolonged 
beyond  the  period  assigned  for  the  execution  of  your  sen- 
tence. Forsaking,  therefore,  the  thoughts  of  this  world,  let 
your  mind  be  prepared  by  repentance  for  those  of  more  awful 
moments — for  death,  judgment,  and  eternity.  Doomster,* 
read  tlie  sentence." 

When  the  doomster  showed  himself,  a  tall  haggard  figure, 
arrayed  in  a  fantastic  garment  of  black  and  gray,  passemented 
with  silver  lace,  all  fell  back  with  a  sort  of  instinctive  horror, 
and  made  wide  way  for  him  to  approach  the  foot  of  the  table. 
As  this  office  was  held  by  the  common  executioner,  men 
shouldered  each  other  backward  to  avoid  even  the  touch  of 
his  garment,  and  some  were  seen  to  brush  their  own  clothes, 
whicli  had  accidentar.y  become  subject  to  such  contamination. 
A  sound  went  through  the  court,  produced  by  each  person 
drawing  in  their  breath  hard,  as  men  do  when  they  expect  or 
witness  what  is  frightful,  and  at  the  same  time  affecting.  The 
caitiff  villain  yet  seemed,  amid  his  hardened  brutality,  to  have 
some  sense  of  his  being  the  object  of  public  detestation,  which 
made  him  impatient  of  being  in  public,  as  birds  of  evil  omen 
are  anxious  to  escape  from  daylight  and  from  pure  air. 

Repeating  after  the  Clerk  of  Court,  he  gabbled  over  the 
words  of  the  sentence,  which  condemned  Euphemia  Deans  to 
be  conducted  back  to  the  tolbooth  of  Edinburgh,  and  detained 
there  until  Wednesday  the day  of  — — ;  and  upon  ,%at 

*  See  Note  26 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  227 

day,  betwixt  the  hours  of  two  and  four  o'clock  afternoon,  to  be 
conveyed  to  the  common  place  of  execution,  and  there  hanged 
by  the  neck  upon  a  gibbet.  '*  And  this,"  said  the  doomster, 
aggravating  his  harsh  voice,  "I  pronounce  for  doom." 

He  vanished  when  he  had  spoken  the  last  emphatic  word, 
like  a  foul  fiend  after  the  purpose  of  his  visitation  has  been 
accomplished  ;  but  the  impression  of  horror  excited  by  hia 
presence  and  his  errand  remained  upon  the  crowd  of  specta- 
tors. 

The  unfortunate  criminal — for  so  she  must  now  be  termed 
— with  more  susceptibility  and  more  irritable  feelings  than  her 
father  and  sister,  was  found,  in  this  emergence,  to  possess  a 
considerable  share  of  their  courage.  She  had  remained  stand- 
ing motionless  at  the  bar  while  the  sentence  was  pronounced, 
and  was  observed  to  shut  her  eyes  when  the  doomster  appeared. 
But  she  was  the  first  to  break  silence  when  that  evil  form  had 
left  his  place. 

"  God  forgive  ye,  my  lords,"  she  said,  *'and  dinna  be  angry 
wi'  me  for  wishing  it — we  a'  need  forgiveness.  As  for  myself, 
I  canna  blame  ye,  for  ye  act  up  to  your  lights ;  and  if  I  havena 
killed  my  poor  infant,  ye  may  witness  a'  that  hae  seen  it  this 
day,  that  I  hae  been  the  means  of  killing  my  gray-headed 
father.  I  deserve  the  warst  f rae  man,  and  frae  God  too.  But 
God  is  mair  mercifu'  to  us  than  we  are  to  each  other." 

Witli  these  words  the  trial  concluded.  The  crowd  rushed, 
bearing  forward  and  shouldering  each  other,  out  of  the  court 
in  the  same  tumultuary  mode  in  which  they  had  entered  ;  and, 
in  the  excitation  of  animal  motion  and  animal  spirits,  soon 
forgot  whatever  they  had  felt  as  impressive  in  the  scene  which 
they  had  witnessed.  The  professional  spectators,  whom  liabit 
and  theory  had  rendered  as  callous  to  the  distress  of  the  scene 
as  medical  men  are  to  those  of  a  surgical  operation,  walked 
homeward  in  groups,  discussing  the  general  principle  of  the 
statute  under  which  the  young  woman  was  condemned,  the 
nature  of  the  evidence,  and  the  arguments  of  the  counsel, 
without  considering  even  that  of  the  Judge  as  exempt  from 
their  criticism. 

The  female  spectators,  more  compassionate,  were  loud  in 
exclamation  against  that  part  of  the  Jiidge's  speech  which 
seemed  to  cut  off  the  hope  of  pardon. 

"  Set  him  up,  indeed,"  said  Mrs.  Howden,  "to  tell  us  that 
the  poor  lassie  behoved  to  die,  when  Mr.  John  Kirk,  as  civil  a 
gentleman  as  is  within  the  ports  of  the  town,  took  the  pains  to 
prigg  for  her  himsell." 

"Ay,  but,  neighbor,"  said  Miss  Damahoy,  drawing  up  her 


288  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

thin  maidenly  form  to  its  full  height  of  prim  dignity,  "I 
really  think  this  unnatural  business  of  having  bastard  bairns 
should  be  putten  a  stop  to.  There  isna  a  hussy  now  on  this 
side  of  thirty  that  you  can  bring  within  your  doors,  but  there 
will  be  chields — writer-lads,  prentice-lads,  and  what  not — 
coming  traiking  after  them  for  their  destruction,  and  discred- 
iting ane's  honest  house  into  the  bargain.  I  liae  nae  patience 
wi' them." 

"  Hout,  neighbor,"  said  Mrs.  Howden,  '•'  wesuld  live  and 
let  live  ;  we  hae  been  young  oursells,  and  we  are  no  aye  to 
judge  the  warst  when  lads  and  lasses  forgather." 

"  Young  oursells  !  and  judge  the  warst ! "  said  Miss  Dama- 
hoy.  "I  am  no  sae  auld  as  that  comes  to,  Mrs.  Howden; 
and  as  for  what  ye  ca'  the  warst,  I  ken  neither  good  nor  bad 
about  the  matter,  I  thank  my  stars  !  " 

''^  Ye  are  thankfu'  for  sma'  mercies,  then,"  said  Mrs.  How- 
den, with  a  toss  of  her  head  ;  "  and  as  for  you  and  young — I 
trow  ye  were  doing  for  yourselj  at  the  last  riding  of  the  Scots 
Parliament,  and  that  was  in  the  gracious  year  seven,  sae  ye 
can  be  nae  sic  chicken  at  ony  rate." 

Plumdamas,  who  acted  as  squire  of  the  body  to  the  two 
contending  dames,  instantly  saw  the  hazard  of  entering  into 
such  delicate  points  of  chronology,  and  being  a  lover  of  peace 
and  good  neighborhood,  lost  no  time  in  bringing  back  the  con- 
versation to  its  original  subject.  "  The  Judge  didna  tell  us 
a*  he  could  hae  tell'd  us,  if  he  had  liked,  about  the  applica- 
tion for  pardon,  neighbors,"  said  he  ;  **  there  is  aye  a  v/imple 
in  a  lawyer's  clue  ;  but  it's  a  wee  bit  of  a  secret." 

"And  what  is't  ? — what  is't,  neighbor  Plumdamas?" 
said  Mrs.  Howden  and  Miss  Damahoy  at  once,  the  acid  fer- 
mentation of  their  dispute  being  at  once  neutralized  by  the 
powerful  alkali  implied  in  the  word  "  secret." 

"  Here's  Mr.  Saddletree  can  tell  ye  that  better  than  me, 
for  it  was  lii'n  that  tauld  me,"  said  Plumdamas,  as  Saddle- 
^oree  came  up,  with  his  wife  hanging  on  his  arm  and  looking 
very  disconsolate. 

When  the  question  was  put  to  Saddletree,  he  looked  very 
scornful.  **  They  speak  about  stopping  the  frequency  of  child- 
murder,"  said  he,  in  a  contemptuous  tone  ;  "do  ye  think  our 
auld  enemies  of  England,  as  Glendook  aye  ca's  them  in  his 
printed  Statute-book,  care  a  boddle  whether  we  didna  kill 
ane  anither,  skin  and  birn,  horse  and  foot,  man,  woman,  and 
bairns,  all  and  sindry,  omnes  et  singulos,  as  Mr.  Crossmyloof 
says  ?  Na,  na,  it's  no  that  hinders  them  frae  pardoning  the 
bit  lassie.     But  here  is  the  jy^^ob  of  the  plea.     The  king  and 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  389 

queen  are  sae  ill  pleased  wi'  that  mistak  about  Porteous,  that 
deil  a  kindly  Scot  will  they  paidon  again,  either  by  reprieve 
or  remission,  if  the  haill  town  o'  Edinburgh  should  be  a' 
hanged  on  ae  tow." 

"  Deil  that  they  were  back  at  their  German  kale-yard, 
then,  as  my  neighbor  MacCroskie  ca's  it,"  said  Mrs.  Howden, 
*'an  that's  the  way  they're  gaun  to  guide  us  \" 

"  They  say  for  certain,"  said  Miss  Damahoy,  "  that  King 
Ueorge  fiang  his  periwig  in  the  fire  when  he  heard  o'  tlie  Por- 
teous mob." 

"  He  has  done  that,  they  say,"  replied  Saddletree,  "for  less 
thing." 

"  Aweel,"  said  Miss  Damahoy,  "  he  might  keep  mair  wit 
in  his  anger  ;  but  it's  a'  tlie  better  for  his  wigmaker,  Fse 
warrant." 

"  The  queen  tore  her  biggonets  for  perfect  anger,  ye'll 
hae  heard  o'  tliat  too  ?"  said  Plumdamas.  "  And  the  king, 
they  say,  kickit  Sir  Robert  Walpole  for  no  keeping  down  the 
mob  of  Edinburgli ;  but  I  dinna  believe  he  wad  beliave  sae 
ungenteel." 

"It's  dooms  truth,  though,"  said  Saddletree;  "and  he 
was  for  kickin'  tlie  Duke  of  Argyle*  too." 

"Kickin'  the  Duke  of  Argyle  !"  exclaimed  the  hearers  at 
once,  in  all  the  various  combined  keys  of  utter  astonishment. 

"  Ay,but  MacCallummore's  blood  wadna  sit  down  wi'  that ; 
tliere  was  risk  of  Andro  Ferrara  coming  in  thirdsman." 

"  The  Duke  is  a  real  Scotsman — a  true  friend  to  the  coun- 
try," answered  Saddletree's  hearers. 

"Ay,  troth  is  he,  to  king  and  country  baith,  as  ye  sail 
hear,"  continued  the  orator,  "if  ye  will  come  in  bye  to  our 
house,  for  it's  safest  speaking  of  sic  things  inter  jjarietes." 

Wlien  they  entered  his  shop  he  thrust  his  prentice  boy  out 
of  it,  and,  unlocking  his  desk,  took  out,  with  an  air  of  grave 
and  complacent  importance,  a  dirty  and  crumpled  piece  of 
printed  paper.  He  observed,  "  This  is  new  corn  ;  it's  no 
everybody  could  show  ye  the  like  o'  this.  It's  tlie  Duke's 
speech  about  the  Porteous  mob,  just  promulgated  by  the 
hawkers.  Ye  shall  hear  what  Ian  Roy  Ceaii  f  says  for  him- 
sell.  My  correspondent  bought  it  in  the  palace-yard,  that's 
like  Just  under  the  king's  nose.  I  think  he  claws  up  their 
mittens  !  It  came  in  a  letter  about  a  foolish  bill  of  exchange 
that  the  man  wanted  me  to  renew  for  him.  I  wish  ye  wad 
see  about  it,  Mrs.  Saddletree." 

*  See  John  Duke  of  Argyle  and  Greenwich.    Note  27. 

t  Red  John  t/ae  Warrior,  a  name  persona  1  and  proper  in  the  Highlands  to  John 
Shike  of  Argjria  and  Qre«Bwicii,  ad.uiiacCuiuiuiu  was  that  of  Jiis  race  or  djrnaaty. 


84U  V.'AVERLEY  NOVELS 

Honest  Mrs.  Saddletree  had  hitherto  been  so  sincerely  dis- 
tressed about  the  situation  of  her  unfortunate  protegee,  that 
she  had  suffered  her  husband  to  proceed  in  his  own  way, 
witnout  attending  to  what  he  was  saying.  The  words  "bill'' 
and  "  renew  "  had,  however,  an  awakening  sound  in  them  ; 
and  she  snatched  the  letter  which  her  liusband  held  towards 
her,  and  wiping  her  eyes,  and  putting  on  her  spectacles,  en- 
deavored, as  fast  as  the  dew  which  collected  on  her  glasses 
would  permit,  to  get  at  the  meaning  of  the  needful  part  of 
the  epistle  ;  while  her  husband,  with  pompous  elevation,  read 
an  extract  from  the  speech. 

"  I  am  no  minister,  I  never  was  a  minister,  and  I  never 
will  be  one '" 

'"  I  didna  ken  his  Grace  was  ever  designed  for  the  minis- 
try," interrupted  Mrs.  Howden, 

''  He  disna  mean  a  minister  of  the  Gospel,  Mrs.  How- 
den, but  a  minister  of  state,"  said  Saddletree,  with  con- 
descending goodness,  and  then  proceeded  :  "  The  time  waa 
when  I  might  have  been  a  piece  of  a  minister,  but  I  waa 
too  sensible  of  my  own  incapacity  to  engage  in  any  state  af- 
fair. And  I  thank  God  that  I  had  always  too  great  a  value 
for  those  few  abilities  which  nature  has  given  me,  to  employ 
them  in  doing  any  drudgery,  or  any  Job  of  what  kind  soever. 
I  have,  ever  since  I  set  out  in  the  world — and  I  believe  few 
have  set  out  more  early — -served  my  prince  with  my  tongue  ;  I 
have  served  him  with  any  little  interest  I  had  ;  and  I  have  served 
him  with  my  sword,  and  in  my  profession  of  arms.  I  have 
held  employments  which  I  have  lost,  and  were  I  to  be  to-mor- 
row deprived  of  those  which  still  remain  to  me,  and  which  I 
have  endeavored  honestly  to  deserve,  I  would  still  serve  him 
to  the  last  acre  of  ray  inheritance,  and  to  the  last  drop  of 
my  blood -" 

Mrs.  Saddletree  here  broke  in  upon  the  orator.  ''Mr. 
Saddletree,  what  is  the  meaning  of  a'  this  ?  Here  are  ye 
clavenng  about  the  Duke  of  Argyle,  and  this  man  Martin- 
gale gaun  to  break  on  our  hands,  and  lose  us  gude  sixty 
pounds.  I  wonder  what  duke  will  pay  that,  quotha.  I  wish 
the  Duke  of  Argyle  would  pay  his  ain  accounts.  He  is  in  a 
thousand  punds  Scots  on  thae  very  books  when  he  was  last  at 
Roystoun.  I'm  no  saying  but  he's  a  just  nobleman,  and  that 
it's  gude  siller  ;  but  it  wad  drive  ane  daft  to  be  confused  wi' 
deukes  and  drakes,  and  thae  distressed  folk  upstairs,  that's 
Jeanie  Deans  and  her  father.  And  then,  putting  the  very 
callant  that  was  sewing  the  curpelout  o'the  shop,  to  play  wi' 
blackguards  in  the  close.     Sit  still,  neighbors,  it's  no  that  I 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  241 

mean  to  disturb  poi/ ;  but  wlifit  between  courts  o'  law  and 
courts  o'  state,  and  upper  and  under  parliaments,  and  parlia- 
ment houses,  here  and  in  London,  the  gudeman's  gane  clean 
gyte,  I  think." 

The  gossips  understood  civility,  and  the  rule  of  doing  as 
they  would  be  done  by,  too  well  to  tarry  upon  the  slight  in- 
vitation implied  in  the  conclusion  of  this  speech,  and  there- 
fore made  their  farewells  and  departure  as  fast  as  possible, 
Saddletree  whispering  to  Plumdamas  that  he  would  ''meet 
him  at  MacCroskie's  (the  low-browed  shop  in  the  Lucken- 
booths  [Lawnmarket],  already  mentioned)  in  the  hour  of 
cause,  and  put  MacCallummore's  speech  in  his  pocket,  for  a' 
tJie  gudewife's  din." 

When  Mrs.  Saddletree  saw  the  house  freed  of  her  import- 
unate visitors,  and  the  little  boy  reclaimed  from  the  pastimes 
of  the  wynd  to  the  exercise  of  the  awl,  she  went  to  visit  her 
unhappy  relative,  David  Deans,  and  his  elder  daugliter,  whc 
had  f oup-d  in  her  house  the  nearest  place  of  friendly  refuge,, 


CHAPTER  XXV 

tsdb.  Alas  I  what  poor  ability's  in  me 

To  do  him  good  ? 
Inido.  As8ay  tlie  power  you  have. 

Measure  for  Measur  3. 

When  Mrs.  i::5addletree  entered  the  apartment  in  which  her 
guests  had  shrouded  their  misery,  she  found  the  window  dark- 
ened. The  feebleness  which  followed  lus.  long  swoon  had 
rendered  it  necessary  to  lay  the  old  man  in  oed.  The  curtains 
were  drawn  around  him,  and  Jeanie  sat  motionless  by  the  side 
of  the  bed.  Mrs.  Saddletree  was  a  woman  of  kindness,  nay, 
of  feeling,  but  not  of  delicacy.  She  opened  the  half-shut  win- 
dow, drew  aside  the  curtain,  and  taking  her  kinsman  by  the 
hand,  exhorted  him  to  sit  up  and  bear  his  sorrow  like  a  good 
man,  and  a  Christian  man,  as  he  was.  But  when  she  quitted 
his  hand  it  fell  powerless  by  his  side,  nor  did  he  attempt  the 
least  reply. 

'•  Is  ail  over  ?  '*  asked  Jeanie,  with  lips  and  cheeks  as  pale 
as  ashes.     "  And  is  there  nae  hope  for  her  ?" 

"  Nane,  or  next  to  uane,"said  Mrs.  Saddletree  ;  "^I  heard 
the  Judge-carle  say  ifc  with  my  ain  ears.  It  was  a  burning 
shame  to  see  sae  mony  o'  them  set  up  yonder  in  their  red  gowns 
and  black  gowns,  and  a'  to  take  the  life  o'  a  bit  senseless  lassie. 
I  had  never  mackle  broo  o'  my  gudeman's  gossips,  and  now  I 
like  them  waur  than  ever.  The  only  wise-like  thing  I  heard 
onybody  say  was  decent  Mr.  John  Kirk,  of  Kirk  Knowe,  and 
he  wassed  them  just  to  get  the  king's  mercy,  and  nae  mair 
about  it.  Bat  he  spake  to  nnreasonab  .e  folk  ;  he  might  just 
hae  keepit  his  breath  to  hae  blawn  on  his  porridge." 

**  But  can  the  king  gie  her  mercy  ?  "  said  Jeanie,  earn- 
estly. '^  Some  folk  tell  me  he  canna  gie  mercy  in  cases  of 
mur -in  cases  like  hers." 

*'  Can  lie  gie  mercy,  hinny  ?  I  weel  I  wot  he  can,  when 
he  likes.  There  was  young  Singlesword,  that  stickit  the 
Laird  of  Ballencleuch  ;  and  Captain  Hacknm,  the  English- 
man, that  killed  Lady  Colgrain's  gudeman ;  and  the  Mastei 
of  St.  Clair,  that  shot  the  twa  Shaws ;  *  and  mony  mair  in 

*  See  Murder  of  the  Two  Shaws.    Note  88. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  943 

my  time — to  be  sure  they  were  gentle  bluid,  and  had  their  kin 
to  speak  for  them — and  there  was  Jock  Porteous,  the  other 
day.     I'se  warrant  tliere's  mercy,  an  folk  could  win  at  it." 

"  Porteous  !"  said  Jeanie  ;  "very  true,  I  forget  a'  that  I 
suld  maist  mind.  Fare  ye  weel,  Mrs.  Saddletree;  and  may 
ye  never  want  a  friend  in  the  hour  o'  distress  ! " 

"  Will  ye  no  stay  wi'  your  father,  Jeanie,  bairn  ?  Ye  had 
better,"  said  Mrs.  Saddletree, 

"  I  will  be  wanted  ower  yonder,"  indicating  the  tolbooth 
with  her  hand,  "  and  I  maun  leave  him  now,  or  I  will  never 
be  able  to  leave  him.  I  f earna  for  his  life  ;  I  ken  how  strong- 
hearted  he  is — I  ken  it/'  she  said,  laying  her  hand  on  her 
bosom,  "  by  ray  ain  heart  at  this  minute." 

"  Weel,  hinny,  if  ye  think  it's  for  the  best,  better  he  stay 
here  and  rest  him  than  gang  back  to  St.  Leonard's." 

"  Muckle  better — muckle  better  ;  God  bless  yon — God 
bless  you  !  At  no  rate  let  him  gang  till  ye  hear  frae  me," 
eaid  Jeanie. 

"But  ye'll  be  back  belyve  ?"  said  Mrs.  Saddletree,  detain- 
ing her  ;  "they  wunna  let  ye  stay  yonder,  hinny." 

"  But  I  maun  gang  to  St.  Leonard's  ;  there's  muckle  to  be 
dune  and  little  time  to  do  it  in.  And  I  have  friends  to  speak 
to.     God  bless  you  !  take  care  of  my  father." 

She  had  reached  the  door  of  the  apartment  when,  suddenly 
turning,  she  came  back  and  knelt  down  by  the  bedside.  "  0 
father,  gie  me  your  blessing  ;  I  dare  not  go  till  ye  bless  me. 
Say  but  '  God  bless  ye  and  prosper  ye,  Jeanie ; '  try  but  to 
say  that ! " 

Instinctively,  rather  than  by  an  exertion  of  intellect,  the 
old  man  murmured  a  prayer  that  "  purchased  and  promised 
blessings  might  be  multiplied  upon  her." 

"  He  has  blessed  mine  errand/'  said  his  daughter,  rising 
from  her  knees,  "and  it  is  borne  in  upon  my  mind  that  I 
shall  prosper." 

So  saying,  she  left  the  room. 

Mrs,  Saddletree  looked  after  her,  and  shook  her  head.  **  I 
wish  she  binna  roving,  poor  thing.  There's  something  queer 
about  a'  thae  Deanses.  I  dinna  like  folk  to  be  sae  muckle 
better  than  other  folk  ;  seldom  comes  gude  o't.  But  if  she's 
gaun  to  look  after  the  kye  at  St.  Leonard's,  that's  another 
story  ;  to  be  sure  they  maun  be  sorted.  Grizzle,  come  up  here 
and  take  tent  to  the  honest  auld  man,  and  see  he  wants  nae- 
thing.  Ye  silly  tawpie  [addressing  the  maid-servant  as  she 
entered],  what  garr'd  ye  busk  up  your  cockernony  that  gate  ? 
I  think  there's  been  eneugh  the  day  to  gie  an  awf  u'  warning 


344  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

about  your  cock-ups  and  your  fal-lal  duds  ;  see  what  they  a' 
come  to,'^  etc.,  etc.,  etc. 

Leaving  the  good  lady  to  her  lecture  upon  worldly  vanities, 
we  must  transport  our  reader  to  the  cell  in  which  the  unfortu- 
nate Effie  Deans  was  now  immured,  being  restricted  of  several 
liberties  which  she  had  enjoyed  before  the  sentence  was  pro- 
nounced. 

When  she  had  remained  about  an  hour  in  the  state  of  stu- 
pefied horror  so  natural  in  her  situation,  she  was  disturbed  by 
the  opening  of  the  jarring  bolts  of  her  place  of  confinement, 
and  Ratcliffe  showed  himself.  "  It's  your  sister,"  he  said, 
"wants  to  speak  t'ye,  Effie." 

"^  I  canna  see  naebod}^,"  said  Effie,  with  the  hasty  irrita- 
bility which  misery  had  rendered  more  acute — "  I  canna  see 
naebody,  and  least  of  a'  her.  Bid  her  take  care  of  the  auld 
man  :  I  am  naething  to  ony  o'  them  now,  nor  them  to  me." 

"  She  says  she  maun  see  ye,  though,"  said  Eatcliffe  ;  and 
Jeanie,  rushing  into  the  apartment,  threw  her  arms  round 
her  sister's  neck,  who  writhed  to  extricate  herself  from  her 
embrace. 

'•  What  signifies  coming  to  greet  ower  me,"  said  poor  Effie, 
"  when  you  have  killed  me  ?  killed  me,  when  a  word  of  your 
mouth  would  have  saved  me  ;  killed  me,  when  I  am  an  inno- 
cent creature — innocent  of  that  guilt,  at  least — and  me  that 
wad  hae  wared  body  and  soul  to  save  your  finger  from  being 
hurt!" 

"  You  shall  not  die,"  said  Jeanie,  with  enthusiastic  firm- 
ness ;  "  say  what  ye  like  o'  me,  think  what  ye  like  o'  me,  only 
promise — for  I  doubt  your  proud  heart — that  ye  wunna  harm 
yourself,  and  you  shall  not  die  this  shameful  death." 

''A  shameful  death  I  will  not  die,  Jeanie,  lass.  I  have 
that  in  my  heart,  though  it  has  been  ower  kind  a  ane.  that 
wunna  bide  shame.  Gae  hame  to  our  father,  and  think  nae 
mair  on  me  :  I  have  eat  my  last  earthly  meal." 

"  0,  this  was  what  I  feared  !"  said  Jeanie. 

"  Hout,  tout,  hinny,"  said  Ratcliffe ;  "  it's  but  little  ye 
ken  o'  thae  things.  Ane  aye  thinks  at  the  first  dinnle  o'  the 
sentence,  they  hae  heart  eneugh  to  die  rather  than  bide  out 
the  sax  weeks  ;  but  they  aye  bide  the  sax  weeks  out  for  a' 
that.  I  ken  the  gate  o't  weel  ;  I  hae  fronted  the  doomster 
three  times,  and  here  I  stand,  Jim  Ratcliffe,  for  a'  that.  Had 
I  tied  my  napkin  strait  the  first  time,  as  I  had  a  great  mind 
till't — and  it  was  a'  about  a  bit  gray  cowt,  wasna  worth  ten 
punds  sterling — where  would  I  have  been  now  ?  " 

"And  how  did  you  escape? "said  Jeanie,   the  fates  of 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  .     348 

this  man,  at  first  so  odious  to  her,  having  acquired  a  sudden 
interest  in  her  eyes  from  their  correspondence  with  those  of 
her  sister. 

"  Hoio  did  I  escape?  "  said  Ratcliffe,  with  a  knowing  wink. 
*'l  tell  ye  I  ^scapit  in  a  way  that  naebody  will  escape  from 
this  tolbooth  while  I  keep  the  keys." 

"My  sister  shall  come  out  in  the  face  of  the  sun,"  said 
Jeanie  ;  "  I  will  go  to  London  and  beg  her  pardon  from  the 
king  and  queen.  If  they  pardoned  Porteous,  they  may  par- 
don her  ;  if  a  sister  asks  a  sister's  life  on  her  bended  knees, 
they  will  pardon  her — they  shall  pardon  her — and  they  will 
win  a  thousand  hearts  by  it." 

Efhe  listened  in  bewildered  astonishment,  and  so  earnest 
was  her  sister's  enthusiastic  assurance,  that  she  almost  in- 
voluntarily caught  a  gleam  of  hope  ;  but  it  instantly  faded 
away. 

"  Ah,  Jeanie  !  the  king  and  queen  live  in  London,  a  thou- 
sand miles  from  this — far  ayont  the  saut  sea ;  I'll  be  gane 
before  ye  win  there  !  " 

"You  are  mistaen,"said  Jeanie;  "it  is  no  sae  far,  and 
they  go  to  it  by  land  :  I  learned  something  about  thae  things 
from  Eeuben  Butler." 

"  Ah,  Jeanie  !   ye  never  learned  onything  but  what  was 

gude  frae  the  folk  ye  keepit  company  wi' ;  but  I — but  I " 

Bhe  wrung  her  hands  and  wept  bitterly. 

"  Dinna  think  on  that  now,"  said  Jeanie  ;  "  there  will  be 
time  for  that  if  the  present  space  be  redeemed.  Fare  ye  weel! 
Unless  I  die  by  the  road,  I  will  see  tlie  king's  face  that  gies 
grace.  0,  sir  [to  Ratcliffe],  be  kind  to  her.  She  ne'er 
kenn'd  what  it  was  to  need  stranger's  kindness  till  now. 
Fareweel — fareweel,  Effie  !  Dinna  speak  to  me ;  I  maunna 
greet  now,  my  head's  ower  dizzy  already  !  " 

She  tore  herself  from  her  sister's  arms,  and  left  the  cell. 
Ratcliffe  followed  her,  and  beckoned  her  into  a  small  room. 
She  obeyed  his  signal,  but  not  without  trembling. 

"  What's  the  fule  thing  shaking  for  ?  "  said  he  ;  "I  mean 
nothing  but  civility  to  you.  D — n  me,  I  respect  you,  and  I 
can't  help  it.  You  have  so  much  spunk,  that — d — n  me,  but  I 
think  there's  some  chance  of  your  carrying  the  day.  But  yon 
must  not  go  to  the  king  till  you  have  made  some  friend  ;  try 
the  Duke — try  MacCallummore ;  he's  Scotland's  friend.  I 
ken  that  the  great  folks  dinna  muckle  like  him  ;  but  they 
fear  him,  and  that  will  serve  your  purpose  as  weel.  D'ye  ken 
naebody  wad  gie  ye  a  letter  to  him  ?  " 

"  Duke  of  Argyle  ! "  said  Jeanie,  recollecting  herself  sud- 


MQ  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

denly.     "  What  was  he  to  that  Argyle  that  suffered  in  my 
father's  time — in  the  persecution  ?  " 

"  His  son  or  grandson,  Fm  thinking,"  said  Ratcliffe ;  "  bat 
what  o'  that  ?  " 

"  Thank  God  !  "  said  Jeanie,  devoutly  clasping  her  hands. 

"  You  Whigs  are  aye  thanking  Grod  for  something,"  said 
the  ruffian.  "  But  hark  ye,  hinny,  I'll  tell  ye  a  secret.  Ye 
may  meet  wi'  rough  customers  on  the  Border,  or  in  the  Mid- 
land, afore  ye  get  to  Lunnon,  Now,  deil  ane  o'  them  will 
touch  an  acquaintance  o'  Daddie  Ratton's  ;  for  though  I  am 
retired  frae  public  practice,  yet  they  ken  I  can  do  a  gude  or 
an  ill  turn  yet ;  and  deil  a  gude  fellow  that  has  been  but  a 
twelvemonth  on  the  lay,  be  he  ruffier  or  padder,  but  he  knows 
my  gybe  as  well  as  the  jark  of  e'er  a  queer  cuffin  in  England 
— and  there's  rogue's  Latin  for  you." 

It  was,  indeed,  totally  unintelligible  to  Jeanie  Deans,  who 
was  only  impatient  to  escape  from  him.  He  hastily  scrawled 
a  line  or  two  on  a  dirty  piece  of  paper,  and  said  to  her,  as  she 
drew  back  when  he  offered  it,  "  Hey  !  what  the  deil !  it  wunna 
bite  you,  my  lass  ;  if  it  does  nae  gude,  it  can  do  nae  ill.  But 
I  wish  you  to  show  it  if  you  have  ony  fasherie  wi'  ony  o'  St. 
Nicholas's  clerks. " 

"  Alas  !  "  said  she,  *^  I  do  not  understand  what  you  mean?'* 

'^  1  mean,  if  ye  fall  among  thieves,  my  precious  ;  that  is 
a  Scripture  phrase,  if  ye  will  hae  ane.  The  bauldest  of  them 
will  ken  a  scart  o'  my  guse  feather.  And  now  awa'  wi'  ye, 
and  stick  to  Argyle  ;  if  onybody  can  do  the  job,  it  maun  be 
him." 

.After  casting  an  anxious  look  at  the  grated  windows  and 
blackened  walls  of  the  old  tolbooth,  and  another  scarce  less 
anxious  at  the  hospitable  lodging  of  Mrs.  Saddletree,  Jeanie 
turned  her  back  on  that  quarter,  and  soon  after  on  the  city 
itself.  She  reached  St.  Leonard's  Crags  without  meeting  any 
one  whom  she  knew,  which,  in  the  state  of  her  mind,  she 
considered  as  a  great  blessing.  "  I  must  do  naething,"  she 
thought,  as  she  went  along,  "  that  can  soften  or  weaken  my 
heart :  it's  ower  weak  already  for  what  I  hae  to  do.  I  will 
think  and  act  as  firmly  as  I  can,  and  speak  as  little." 

There  was  an  ancient  servant,  or  rather  cottar,  of  her 
father's,  who  had  lived  under  him  for  many  years,  and  whose 
fidelity  was  worthy  of  full  confidence.  She  sent  for  this 
woman,  and  explaining  to  her  that  the  circumstances  of  her 
family  required  that  she  should  undertake  a  journey  which 
would  detain  her  for  some  weeks  from  home,  she  gave  her 
full  instructions  concerning  the  management  of  the  domestio 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  247 

affairs  in  her  absence.  With  a  precision  which,  upon  reflec- 
tion, she  herself  could  not  help  wondering  at,  she  described 
and  detailed  the  most  minute  steps  which  were  to  be  taken, 
and  especially  such  as  Avere  necessary  for  her  father's  comfort. 
"It  was  probable,"  she  said,  "that  he  would  return  to  St. 
Leonard's  to-morrow — certain  that  he  would  return  very 
soon  ;  all  must  be  in  order  for  him.  He  had  eneugh  to  dis- 
tress him,  without  being  fashed  about  warldly  matters." 

In  the  meanwhile  she  toiled  busily,  along  with  May  Hettly, 
to  leave  nothing  unarranged. 

It  was  deep  in  the  night  when  all  these  matters  were  set- 
tled; and  when  they  had  partaken  of  some  food,  the  first  which 
Jeanie  had  tasted  on  that  eventful  day,  May  Hettly,  whose 
usual  residence  was  a  cottage  at  a  little  distance  from  Deaus's 
house,  asked  her  young  mistress  whether  she  would  not  per- 
mit her  to  remain  in  the  house  all  night.  "'  Ye  hae  had  an 
awfu'  day,"  she  said,  "and  sorrow  and  fear  are  but  bad  com- 
panions in  the  watches  of  the  night,  as  I  hae  heard  the  gude- 
man  sayhimsell." 

*' They  are  ill  companions  indeed,"  said  Jeanie  ;  "but  I 
maun  learn  to  abide  their  presence,  and  better  begin  in  the 
house  than  in  the  field." 

She  dismissed  her  aged  assistant  accordingly — for  so  slight 
was  the  gradation  in  their  rank  of  life  that  we  can  hardly 
term  May  a  servant — and  proceeded  to  make  a  few  prepara- 
tions for  her  journey. 

The  simplicity  of  her  education  and  country  made  these 
preparations  very  brief  and  easy.  Her  tartan  screen  served 
all  the  purposes  of  a  riding-habit  and  of  an  umbrella  ;  a  small 
bundle  contained  such  changes  of  linen  as  were  absolutely 
necessary.  Barefooted,  as  Sancho  says,  she  had  come  into 
the  world,  and  barefooted  she  proposed  to  perform  her  pil- 
grimage ;  and  her  clean  shoes  and  change  of  snow-white  thread 
stockings  were  to  be  reserved  for  special  occasions  of  ceremony. 
She  was  not  aware  that  the  English  habits  of  comfort  attach 
an  idea  of  abject  misery  to  the  idea  of  a  barefooted  traveller  ; 
and  if  the  objection  of  cleanliness  had  been  made  to  the  prac- 
tice, she  would  have  been  apt  to  vindicate  herself  upon  the 
very  frequent  ablutions  to  which,  with  Mahometan  scrupulos- 
ity, a  Scottish  damsel  of  some  condition  usually  subjects  her- 
self.    Thus  far,  therefore,  all  was  well. 

From  an  oaken  press  or  cabinet,  in  which  her  father  kept  a 
few  old  books,  and  two  or  three  bundles  of  papers,  besides  his 
ordinary  accounts  and  receipts,  she  sought  out  and  extracted 
from  a  parcel  of  notes  of  sermons,  calculations  of  interestj  rec- 


248  WAVE  RLE  Y  NOVELS 

ords  of  dying  speeches  of  the  martyrs,  and  the  like,  one  or  two 
documents  which  she  thought  might  be  of  some  use  to  her  upon 
tier  mission.  But  the  most  important  difficulty  remained  be- 
hind, and  it  had  not  occurred  to  her  until  that  very  evening. 
It  was  the  want  of  money,  without  which  it  was  impossible  she 
could  undertake  so  distant  a  journey  as  she  now  meditated. 

David  Deans,  as  we  have  said,  was  easy,  and  even  opulent, 
in  his  circumstances.  But  his  wealth,  like  that  of  the  patriarchs 
of  old,  consisted  in  his  kine  and  herds,  and  in  two  or  three  sums 
lent  out  at  interest  to  neighbors  or  relatives,  who,  far  from 
being  in  circumstances  to  pay  anything  to  account  of  the  prin- 
cipal sums,  thought  they  did  all  that  was  incumbent  on  them 
when,  with  considerable  difficulty,  they  discharged  "the  annual 
rent. "  To  these  debtors  it  would  be  in  vain,  therefore,  to  apply, 
even  with  her  father's  concurrence  ;  nor  could  she  hope  to  ob- 
tain such  concurrence,  or  assistance  in  any  mode,  without  such 
a  series  of  explanations  and  debates  as  she  felt  might  deprive 
her  totally  of  the  power  of  taking  the  step,  which,  however 
daring  and  hazardous,  she  knew  was  absolutely  necessary  for 
trying  the  last  chance  in  favor  of  her  sister.  Without  depart- 
ing from  filial  reverence,  Jeanie  had  an  inward  conviction  that 
the  feelings  of  her  father,  however  just,  and  upright,  and  hon- 
orable, were  too  little  in  unison  with  the  spirit  of  the  time  to 
admit  of  his  being  a  good  judge  of  the  measures  to  be  adopted 
in  this  crisis.  Herself  more  flexible  in  manner,  though  no  less 
upright  in  principle,  she  felt  that  to  ask  his  consent  to  her 
pilgrimage  would  be  to  encounter  the  risk  of  drawing  down  his 
positive  prohibition,  and  under  that  she  believed  her  journey 
could  not  be  blessed  in  its  progress  and  event.  Accordingly, 
she  had  determined  upon  the  means  by  which  she  might  com- 
municate to  him  her  undertaking  and  its  purpose  shortly  after 
her  actual  departure.  But  it  was  impossible  to  apply  to  him 
for  money  without  altering  this  arrangement,  and  discussing 
fully  the  propriety  of  her  journey  ;  pecuniary  assistance  from 
that  quarter,  therefore,  was  laid  out  of  the  question. 

It  now  occurred  to  Jeanie  that  she  should  have  consulted 
with  Mrs.  Saddletree  on  this  subject.  But,  besides  the  time 
that  must  now  necessarily  be  lost  in  recurring  to  her  assistance, 
Jeanie  internally  revolted  from  it.  Her  heart  acknowledged 
the  goodness  of  Mrs.  Saddletree's  general  character,  and  the 
kind  interest  she  took  in  their  family  misfortunes  ;  but  still 
she  felt  that  Mrs.  Saddletree  was  a  woman  of  an  ordinary  and 
worldly  way  of  thinking,  incapable,  from  habit  and  tempera- 
ment, of  taking  a  keen  or  enthusiastic  view  of  such  a  resolution 
as  she  had  formed ;  and  to  debate  the  point  with  her,  and  to 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  249 

rely  upon  her  conviction  of  its  propriety  for  the  means  of 
carrying  it  into  execution,  would  have  been  gall  and  worm- 
wood. 

Butler,  whose  assistance  she  might  have  been  assured  of, 
was  greatly  poorer  than  herself.  In  these  circumstances,  she 
formed  a  singular  resolution  for  the  purpose  of  surmounting 
this  difficulty,  the  execution  of  which  will  form  the  subject  of 
the  next  chapter. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

Tis  the  voice  of  the  sluggard,  I've  heard  him  complain, 
"  You  have  waked  me  too  soon,  I  must  slumber  again  ; " 
As  the  door  on  its  hinges,  so  he  on  his  bed, 
Turns  his  side  and  his  shoulders,  and  his  hejivy  head. 

Dr.  Watts. 

The  mansion-honse  of  Dnmbiedikes,  to  which  wq  are  now  to 
introduce  our  readers,  lay  three  or  four  miles — no  matter  for 
the  exact  topography — to  the  southward  of  St.  Leonardos.  It 
had  once  borne  the  appearance  of  some  little  celebrity  ;  for  the 
Auld  Laird,  whose  humors  and  pranks  were  often  mentioned 
in  the  alehouses  for  about  a  mile  round  it,  wore  a  sword,  kept 
a  good  horse,  and  a  brace  of  greyhounds ;  brawled,  swore,  and 
betted  at  cock-fights  and  horse-matches  ;  followed  Somerville 
of  Drum's  hawks  and  the  Lord  Ross's  hounds  ;  and  called  him- 
self point  devise  a  gentleman.  But  the  line  had  been  veiled  of 
its  splendor  in  the  present  proprietor,  who  cared  for  no  rustic 
amusements,  and  was  as  saving,  timid,  and  retired  as  his  father 
had  been  at  once  grasping  and  selfishly  extravagant,  daring, 
wild,  and  intrusive. 

Dumbiedikes  was  what  is  called  in  Scotland  a  ''single" 
house  ;  that  is,  having  only  one  room  occupying  its  whole  depth 
from  back  to  front,  each  of  which  single  apartments  was  illumi- 
nated by  six  or  eight  cross  lights,  whose  diminutive  panes  and 
heavy  frames  permitted  scarce  so  much  light  to  enter  as  shines 
through  one  well-constructed  modern  window.  This  inartificial 
edifice, exactly  such  as  p,  child  would  build  with  cards,had  a  steep 
roof  flagged  with  coarse  gray  stones  instead  of  slates  ;  a  half- 
circular  turret,  battlemented,  or,  to  use  the  appropriate  phrase, 
bartizan'd  on  the  top,  served  as  a  case  for  a  narrow  turnpike- 
stair,  by  which  an  ascent  was  gained  from  story  to  story ;  and 
at  the  bottom  of  the  said  turret  was  a  door  studded  with  large- 
headed  nails.  There  was  no  lobby  at  the  bottom  of  the  tower, 
and  scarce  a  landing-place  opjiosite  to  the  doors  which  gave 
access  to  the  apartments.  One  or  two  low  and  dilapidated  out- 
houses, connected  by  a  courtyard  wall  equally  ruinous,  sur- 
rounded the  mansion.  The  court  had  been  paved,  but  the  flags 
being  partly  displaced  and  partly  renewed,  a  gallant  crop  of 

250 


TEE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  251 

docks  and  thistles  sprung  up  between  them,  and  the  small 
garden,  which  opened  by  a  postern  through  the  wall,  seemed 
not  to  be  in  a  much  more  orderly  condition.  Over  the  low- 
arched  gateway  which  led  into  the  yard,  there  was  a  carved 
stone,  exhibiting  some  attempt  at  armorial  bearings  ;  and 
above  the  inner  entrance  hung,  and  had  hung  for  many  years, 
the  mouldering  hatchment,  which  announced  that  umquhile 
Laurence  Dumbie  of  Dumbiedikes  had  been  gathered  to  his 
fathers  in  Newbattle  kirkyard.  The  approacli  to  this  palace 
of  pleasure  was  by  a  road  formed  by  the  rude  fragments  of 
stone  gathered  from  the  fields,  and  it  was  surrounded  by 
ploughed  but  unenclosed  land.  Upon  a  baulk,  that  is,  an  un- 
ploughed  ridge  of  land  interposed  among  the  corn,  the  Laird's 
trusty  palfrey  was  tethered  by  the  head,  and  picking  a  meal 
of  grass.  The  whole  argued  neglect  and  discomfort,  the  con- 
sequence, however,  of  idleness  and  indifference,  not  of  poverty. 

In  this  inner  court,  not  without  a  sense  of  bashfulness  and 
timidity,  stood  Jeanie  Deans,  at  an  early  hour  in  a  fine  spring 
morning.  She  was  no  heroine  of  romance,  and  therefore 
looked  with  some  curiosity  and  interest  on  the  mansion-house 
and  domains,  of  which,  it  might  at  that  moment  occur  to  her, 
a  little  encouragement,  such  as  women  of  all  ranks  know  by 
instinct  how  to  apply,  might  have  made  her  mistress.  More- 
over, she  was  no  person  of  taste  beyond  her  time,  rank,  and 
country,  and  certainly  thought  the  house  of  Dumbiedikes, 
though  inferior  to  Holyrood  House  or  the  palace  at  Dalkeith, 
was  still  a  stately  structure  in  its  way,  and  the  land  a  "  very 
bonny  bit,  if  it  were  better  seen  to  and  done  to."  But  Jeanie 
Deans  was  a  plain,  true-hearted,  honest  girl,  who,  while  she 
acknowledged  all  the  splendor  of  her  old  admirer's  habitation, 
and  the  value  of  his  property,  never  for  a  moment  harbored  a 
thought  of  doing  the  Laird,  Butler,  or  herself  the  injustice 
which  many  ladies  of  higher  rank  would  not  have  hesitated 
to  do  to  all  three  on  much  less  temptation. 

Her  present  errand  being  with  the  Laird,  she  looked  round 
the  offices  to  see  if  she  could  find  any  domestic  to  announce 
that  she  wished  to  see  him.  As  all  was  silence,  she  ventured 
to  open  one  door  :  it  was  the  old  Laird's  dog-kennel,  now  de- 
serted, unless  when  occupied,  as  one  or  two  tubs  seemed  to 
testify,  as  a  washing-house.  She  tried  another  :  it  was  the 
roofless  shed  where  the  hawks  had  been  once  kept,  as  appeared 
from  a  perch  or  two  not  yet  completely  rotten,  and  a  lure  and 
jesses  which  were  mouldering  on  the  wall.  A  third  door  led 
to  the  coal-house,  which  was  well  stocked.  To  keep  a  very 
good  fire  was  one  of  the  few  points  of  domestic  management 


252  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

in  wliicli  Dumbiedikes  was  positively  active  ;  in  all  other  mat- 
ters of  domestic  economy  lie  was  completely  passive,  and  at 
the  mercy  of  his  honsekeeper,  the  same  buxom  dame  whom 
his  father  had  long  since  bequeathed  to  his  charge,  and  who, 
if  fame  did  her  no  injustice,  had  feathered  her  nest  pretty 
well  at  his  expense. 

Jeanie  went  on  opening  doors,  like  the  second  Calender 
wanting  an  eye,  in  the  castle  of  the  hundred  obliging  damsels, 
until,  like  the  said  prince-errant,  she  came  to  a  stable.  The 
Highland  Pegasus,  Rory  Bean,  to  wliich  belonged  the  single 
entire  stall,  was  her  old  acquaintance,  whom  she  had  seen 
grazing  on  the  baulk,  as  she  failed  not  to  recognize  by  the 
well-known  ancient  riding  furniture  and  demi-pique  saddle, 
which  half  hung  on  the  walls,  half  trailed  on  the  litter.  Be- 
yond the  "  treviss,"  which  formed  one  side  of  the  stall,  stood 
a  covs^,  who  turned  her  head  and  lowed  when  Jeanie  came 
into  the  stable,  an  appeal  which  her  habitual  occupations  en- 
abled her  perfectly  to  understand,  and  with  which  she  could 
not  refuse  complying,  by  shaking  down  some  fodder  to  the 
animal,  whicii  had  been  neglected  like  most  things  else  in 
this  castle  of  the  sluggard. 

While  she  was  accommodating  "the  milky  mother*'  with 
the  food  which  she  should  have  received  two  hours  sooner,  a 
slipshod  wench  peeped  into  the  stable,  and  perceiving  that  a 
.stranger  was  employed  in  discharging  the  task  which  she,  at 
length,  and  reluctantly,  had  quitted  her  slumbers  to  perform, 
ejaculated,  "Eh,  sirs  !  the  brownie  !  the  brownie  I"  and  fled, 
yelling  as  if  she  had  seen  the  devil. 

To  explain  her  terror,  it  may  be  necessary  to  notice  that 
the  old  house  of  Dumbiedikes  had,  according  to  report,  been 
long  haunted  by  a  brownie,  one  of  those  familiar  spirits  who 
were  believed  in  ancient  times  to  supply  the  deficiencies  of 
the  ordinary  laborer — 

Whirl  the  long  mop  and  ply  the  airy  flail. 

Certes,  the  convenience  of  such  a  supernatural  assistant 
could  have  been  nowhere  more  sensibly  felt  than  in  a  family 
where  the  domestics  were  so  little  disposed  to  personal  activ- 
ity ;  yet  this  serving  maiden  was  so  far  from  rejoicing  in  see- 
ing a  supposed  aerial  substitute  disciiarging  a  task  which  she 
should  have  long  since  performed  herself,  that  she  proceeded 
to  raise  the  family  by  her  screams  of  horror,  uttered  as  thick 
as  if  the  brownie  had  been  flaying  her.  Jeanie,  who  had  im- 
mediately resigned  her  temporary  occupation  and  followed 
the  yelling  dajusel  into  the  courtyard,  in  order  to  undeceive 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  253 

and  appease  her,  was  there  met  by  Mrs.  Janet  Balchristie, 
the  favorite  sultana  of  the  last  Laird,  as  scandal  went — the 
housekeeper  of  the  present.  The  good-looking  buxom  woman, 
betwixt  forty  and  fifty  (for  such  we  described  her  at  the  death 
of  the  last  Laird),  was  now  a  fat,  red-faced,  old  dame  of 
seventy,  or  tliereabouts,  fond  of  her  place,  and  jealous  of  her 
authority.  Conscious  that  her  administration  did  not  rest  on 
so  sure  a  basis  as  in  the  time  of  the  old  proprietor,  this  con- 
siderate lady  had  introduced  into  the  family  the  screamer 
aforesaid,  who  added  good  features  and  bright  eyes  to  the 
powers  of  her  lungs.  She  made  no  conquest  of  the  Laird,  how- 
ever, who  seemed  to  live  as  if  there  was  notanother  woman  in 
the  world  but  Jeanie  Deans,  and  to  bear  no  very  ardent  or 
overbearing  affection  even  to  her.  Mrs.  Janet  Balchristie, 
notwithstanding,  had  her  own  uneasy  thoughts  upon  the  al- 
most daily  visits  to  St.  Leonard's  Crags,  and  often,  when  the 
Laird  looked  at  her  wistfully  and  paused,  according  to  his 
custom,  before  utterance,  she  expected  him  to  say,  "Jenny, 
I  am  gaun  to  change  my  condition  ; "  but  she  was  relieved  by 
"Jenny,  I  am  gaun  to  change  my  shoon." 

Still,  however,  Mrs.  Balchristie  regarded  Jeanie  Deans 
with  no  small  portion  of  malevolence,  the  customary  feeling 
of  such  persons  towards  any  one  who  they  think  has  the  means 
of  doing  them  an  injury.  But  she  hud  also  a  general  aversion 
to  any  female,  tolerably  young  and  decently  well-looking,  who 
showed  a  wish  to  approach  the  house  of  Dumbiedikes  and  the 
proprietor  thereof.  And  as  she  had  raised  her  mass  of  mor- 
tality out  of  bed  two  hours  eai'lier  than  usual,  to  come  to  the 
rescue  of  her  clamorous  niece,  she  was  in  such  extreme  bad 
humor  against  all  and  sundry,  that  Saddletree  would  have 
pronounced  that  she  harbored  inimicitican  contra  omnes  mor- 
tales. 

"'  Wha  the  deil  are  ye  ?  "  said  the  fat  dame  to  poor  Jeanie, 
whom  she  did  not  immediately  recognize,  "scouping  about  a 
decent  house  at  sic  an  hour  in  the  morning  ?" 

"  It  was  ane  wanting  to  speak  to  the  Laird,"  said  Jeanie, 
who  felt  something  of  the  intuitive  terror  which  she  had  for- 
merly entertained  for  this  termagant,  when  she  was  occasion- 
ally at  Du7nbiedikes  on  business  of  lier  father's. 

"Ane  !  And  what  sort  of  ane  are  ye  ?  hae  ye  nae  name  ? 
D'ye  think  his  honor  has  nnething  else  to  do  than  to  speak 
wi"  ilka  idle  tramp  that  comes  about  the  town,  and  him  in  his 
bed  yet,  honest  man  ?  " 

"  Dear,  Mrs.  Balchristie,"  replied  Jeanie,  in  a  submissive 
tone,  "  d'ye  no  mind  me  ?--d'ye  no  mind  Jeanie  Deans  ?  " 


254  WAVERjlEY  novels 

*'  Jeahie  Deans  ! ! "  said  the  termagant,  in  accents  affect- 
ing tlic  utmost  astonishment  ;  then,  taking  two  strides  nearer 
to  her,  she  peered  into  her  face  with  a  stare  of  curiosity,  equal- 
ly scornful  and  malignant.  "  I  say  Jeauie  Deans,  indeed — 
Jeanie  Deevil,  they  had  better  hae  ca'd  ye  !  A  bonny  spoto' 
wark  your  tittie  and  you  hae  made  out,  murdering  ae  puir  wean, 
and  your  light  limmer  of  a  sister's  to  be  hanged  f or't,  as  weel 
she  deserves  !  And  the  like  o'  you  to  come  to  ony  honest 
man's  house,  and  want  to  be  into  a  decent  bachelor  gentle- 
man's room  at  this  time  in  tlie  morning,  and  him  in  his  bed  ? 
G-ae  wa' — ^gae  wa'  !  " 

Jeanie  was  struck  mute  with  shame  at  the  unfeeling  brn- 
tality  of  this  accusation,  and  could  not  even  find  words  to 
Justify  herself  from  tlie  vile  construction  put  upon  her  visit, 
when  Mrs.  Balchristie,  seeing  her  advantage,  continued  in  the 
same  tone,  "  Come,  come,  bundle  up  your  pipes  and  tramp 
awa'  wi'  ye  !  ye  may  be  seeking  a  fatiier  to  another  wean  for 
onything  I  ken.  If  it  warna  that  your  father,  auld  David 
Deans,  had  been  a  tenant  on  our  land,  I  would  cry  up  the  men- 
folk and  hae  ye  dookit  in  the  burn  for  your  impudence.'' 

Jeanie  had  already  turned  her  back  and  was  walking  to- 
wards the  door  of  the  courtyard,  so  that  Mrs.  Balchristie,  to 
make  her  last  threat  impressively  audible  to  her,  had  raised  her 
stentorian  voice  to  its  utmost  pitch.  But,  like  many  a  general, 
she  lost  the  engagement  by  pressing  her  advantage  too  far. 

The  Laird  had  been  disturbed  in  his  morning  slumbers  by 
the  tones  of  Mrs.  Balchristie's  objurgation,  sounds  in  them- 
selves by  no  means  uncommon,  but  very  remarkable  in  respect 
to  the  early  hour  at  which  they  were  now  heard.  He  turned 
himself  on  the  other  side,  however,  in  hopes  the  squall  would 
blow  by,  when,  in  the  course  of  Mrs.  Balchristie's  second  ex- 
plosion of  wrath,  the  name  of  Deans  distinctly  struck  the  tym- 
panum of  his  ear.  As  he  was,  in  some  degree,  aware  of  the 
small  portion  of  benevolence  with  which  his  housekeeper  re- 
garded the  family  at  St.  Leonard's,  he  instantly  conceived 
that  some  message  from  thence  was  the  cause  of  this  untimely 
ire,  and  getting  out  of  his  bed,  he  slipped  as  speedily  as  possible 
into  an  old  brocaded  nightgown  and  some  other  necessary  in- 
teguments, clapped  on  his  head  his  father's  gold-laced  hat 
(for  though  he  was  seldom  seen  without  it,  yet  it  is  proper  to 
contradict  the  popular  report  that  he  slept  in  it,  as  Don 
Quixote  did  in  his  helmet),  and  opening  the  window  of  his 
bedroom,  beheld,  to  his  great  astonishment,  the  well-known 
figure  of  Jeanie  Deans  herself  retreating  from  his  gate  ;  while 
his  housekeeper,  with  arms  akimbo,  fists  clinched  and  ex- 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  2i56 

tended,  body  erect,  and  head  shaking  with  rage,  sent  after  her 
a  volley  of  Billingsgate  oaths.  His  choler  rose  in  proportion 
to  the  surprise,  and,  perhaps,  to  the  disturbance  of  his  repose. 
*'Hark  ye,"  he  exclaimed  from  the  window,  "ye  auld  limb 
of  Satan  !  wha  the  deil  gies  you  commission  to  guide  an  hon- 
est man's  daughter  that  gate  ?" 

Mrs.  Balchristie  was  completely  caught  in  the  manner. 
She  was  aware,  from  the  unusual  warmth  with  which  the  Laird 
expressed  himself,  that  he  was  quite  serious  in  this  matter, 
and  she  knew  that,  with  all  his  indolence  of  nature,  there  were 
points  on  which  he  might  be  provoked,  and  that,  being  pro- 
voked, he  had  in  him  something  dangerous,  which  her  wisdom 
taught  her  to  fear  accordingly.  She  began,  therefore,  to  re- 
tract her  false  step  as  fast  as  she  could.  "^  She  was  but  speak- 
ing for  the  house's  credit,  and  she  couldna  think  of  disturb- 
ing his  honor  in  the  morning  sae  early,  when  the  young  woman 
might  as  weel  wait  or  call  again ;  and,  to  be  sure,  she  might 
make  a  mistake  between  the  twa  sisters,  for  ane  o'  them  wasna 
^ae  creditable  an  acquaintance.'' 

"  Hand  your  peace;  ye  auld  jade,"  said  Dumbiedikes  ;  '•  the 
warst  quean  e'er  stude  in  their  shoon  may  ca'  you  cousin,  an 
a'  be  true  that  I  have  heard.  Jeanie,  my  woman,  gang  into 
the  parlor — but  stay,  that  winna  be  redd  up  yet ;  wait  there  a 
minute  till  I  come  doun  to  let  ye  in.  Dinna  mind  what  Jenny 
says  to  ye." 

"  Na,  na,"  said  Jenny,  with  a  laugh  of  affected  heartiness, 
''never  mind  me,  lass.  A' the  warld  kens  my  bark's  waur 
than  my  bite  ;  if  ye  had  had  an  appointment  wi'  tlie  Laird,  ye 
might  hae  tauld  me,  I  am  nae  urcivil  person.  Gang  your 
ways  in  bye,  hinny,"  And  she  oj)ened  the  door  of  the  house 
with  a  master-key. 

"  But  I  had  no  appointment  wi'  the  Laird,"  said  Jeanie, 
drawing  back  ;  "  I  want  just  to  speak  twa  words  to  him,  and 
I  wad  rather  do  it  standing  here,  Mrs.  Balchristie." 

"  In  the  open  courtyard  ?  Na,  na,  that  wad  never  do,  lass  ; 
we  maunna  guide  ye  that  gate  neither.  And  how's  that  douce 
honest  man,  your  father  ?  " 

Jeanie  was  saved  the  pain  of  answering  this  hypocritical 
question  by  the  appearance  of  the  Laird  himself. 

"  Gang  in  and  get  breakfast  ready,"  said  he  to  his  house- 
keeper ;  "and,  d'ye  hear,  breakfast  wi' us  yoursell  ;  ye  ken 
how  to  manage  thae  porringers  of  tea-water  ;  and,  hear  ye,  see 
abune  a'  that  there's  a  gude  fire.  Weel,  Jeanie,  my  woman, 
gang  in  bye — gang  in  bye,  and  rest  ye." 

"Na,  Laird,"  Jeanie  replied,  endeavoring  as  much  iis  she 


256  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

could  to  express  herself  with  composure,  notwithstanding  she 
still  trembled,  "  I  canna  gang  in  :  I  have  a  lang  day's  darg 
afore  me  ;  I  maun  be  twenty  mile  o'  gate  the  night  yet,  if  feet 
will  carry  me." 

"  Guide  and  deliver  us  !  twenty  mile — twenty  mile  on  your 
feet ! "  ejaculated  Dumbiedikes,  whose  walks  were  of  a  very 
circumscribed  diameter.  "Ye  maun  never  think  o'  that; 
come  in  bye." 

"I  canna  do  that,  Laird,"  replied  Jeanie.  "The  twa 
words  I  hae  to  say  to  ye  I  can  say  here ;  forbye  that  Mrs. 
Balchristie " 

"  The  deil  flee  awa^  wi'  Mrs.  Balchristie,"  said  Dumbiedikes, 
"and  he'll  hae  a  heavy  lading  o'her  !  I  tell  ye,  Jeanie  Deans, 
I  am  a  man  of  few  words,  but  I  am  laird  at  hame  as  weel  as 
in  the  tield  :  deil  a  brute  or  body  about  my  house  but  I  can 
manage  when  I  like,  except  Rory  Bean,  my  powny  ;  but  I  can 
seldom  be  at  the  plague,  an  it  binna  when  my  bluid's  up." 

"  I  was  wanting  to  say  to  ye,  Laird,"  said  Jeanie,  who  felt 
the  necessity  of  entering  upon  her  business,  "that  I  wasgaun 
a  lang  journey,  outbye  of  my  father's  knowledge." 

"Outbye  his  knowledge,  Jeanie  !  Is  that  right?  Ye 
maun  think  o't  again  ;  it's  no  right,"  said  Dumbiedikes,  with 
a  countenance  of  great  concern. 

"If  I  were  anes  at  Lunnon,"  said  Jeanie,  in  exculpation, 
"  I  am  amaist  sure  I  could  get  means  to  speak  to  the  queen 
about  my  sister's  life." 

"Lunnon,  and  the  queen,  and  her  sister's  life!"  said 
Dumbiedikes,  whistling  for  very  amazement ;  "  the  lassie's 
demented." 

"I  am  no  out  o'  my  mind," said  she,  "  and,  sink  or  swim, 
I  am  determined  to  gang  to  Lunnon,  if  I  suld  beg  my  way 
frae  door  to  door  ;  and  so  I  maun,  unless  ye  wad  lend  me  a 
small  sum  to  pay  my  expenses.  Little  thing  will  do  it  ;  and 
ye  ken  my  father's  a  man  of  substance,  and  wad  see  nae  man, 
far  less  you.  Laird,  come  to  loss  by  me." 

Dumbiedikes,  on  comprehending  the  nature  of  this  appli- 
cation, could  scarce  trust  his  ears  ;  he  made  no  answer  what- 
ever, but  stood  with  his  eyes  riveted  on  the  ground. 

"  I  see  ye  are  no  for  assisting  me.  Laird,"  said  Jeanie  ; 
'*  sae  fare  ye  weel  ;  and  gang  and  see  my  poor  father  as  af ten 
as  ye  can,  he  will  be  lonely  enough  now." 

"  Where  is  the  silly  bairn  gaun  ?  "  said  Dumbiedikes  ;  and, 
laying  hold  of  her  hand,  he  led  her  into  the  house.  "  It's  no 
that  I  didna  think  o't  before,"  he  said,  "  but  it  stack  in  my 
throat." 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  357 

Thus  speaking  to  himself,  he  led  her  into  an  old-fashioned 
parlor,  shut  the  door  behind  them,  and  fastened  it  with  a 
bolt.  While  Jeanie,  surprised  at  this  manrouvre,  remained  as 
near  the  door  as  possible,  the  Laird  quitted  her  hand,  and 
pressed  upon  a  spring  lock  fixed  in  an  oak  panel  in  the  wain- 
scot, which  instantly  slipped  aside.  An  iron  strong-box  was 
discovered  in  a  recess  of  the  wall  ;  he  opened  this  also,  and, 
pulling  out  two  or  three  drawers,  showed  that  they  were  filled 
with  leathern  bags,  full  of  gold  and  silver  coin. 

"  This  is  my  bank,  Jeanie,  lass,"  he  said,  looking  first  at 
her  and  then  at  the  treasure,  with  an  air  of  great  complacency  ; 
"nane  o'  your  goldsmith's  bills  for  me  ;  they  bring  folk  to 
ruin." 

Then  suddenly  changing  his  tone,  he  resolutely  said — 
"  Jeanie,  I  will  make  ye  Leddy  Dumbiedikes  afore  the  sun 
sets,  and  ye  may  ride  to  Lunnon  in  your  ain  coach,  if  ye 
like." 

"Na,  Laird,"  said  Jeanie,  ''that  can  never  be  :  my  father's 
grief,  my  sister's  situation,  the  discredit  to  you " 

"  That's  7)17/  business,"  said  Dumbiedikes.  "  Ye  wad  say 
naething  about  that  if  ye  werena  a  fule  ;  and  yet  I  like  ye  the 
better  for't :  ae  wise  body's  eneugh  in  the  married  state.  But 
if  your  heart's  ower  fu',  take  what  siller  will  serve  ye,  and 
let  it  be  when  ye  come  back  again,  as  gude  syne  as  sune." 

"  But,  Laird,"  said  Jeanie,  who  felt  the  necessity  of  being 
explicit  with  so  extraordinary  a  lover,  "  I  like  another  man 
better  than  you,  and  I  canna  marry  ye." 

"  Another  man  better  than  me,  Jeanie  ! "  said  Dumbie- 
dikes ;  ''how  is  that  possible  ?  It's  no  possible,  woman  ;  ye 
has  kenn'd  me  sae  lang." 

"  Ay,  but,  Laird,"  said  Jeanie,  with  persevering  simpli- 
city, "  I  hae  kenn'd  him  langer." 

"  Langer  !  It's  no  possible  ! "  exclaimed  the  poor  Laird. 
"  It  canna  be  ;  ye  were  born  on  the  land.  0  Jeanie,  woman, 
ye  haena  lookit — ye  haena  seen  the  half  o'  the  gear."  He 
drew  out  another  drawer.  ''A'  gowd,  Jeanie,  and  there's 
bands  for  siller  lent.  And  the  rental  book,  Jeanie — clear 
three  hunder  sterling  ;  deil  a  wadset,  heritable  band,  or  bur- 
den. Ye  haena  lookit  at  them,  woman.  And  then  my 
mother's  wardrobe,  and  my  grandmother's  forbye — silk  gowns 
wad  stand  on  their  ends,  pearlin-lace  as  fine  as  spiders'  webs, 
and  rings  and  earrings  to  the  boot  of  a'  that ;  they  are  a'  in 
the  chamber  of  deas.  Oh,  Jeanie,  gang  up  the  stair  and  look 
at  them  ! " 

But  Jeanie  held  fast  her  integrity,  though  beset  with 


388  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

temptations  which  perhaps  the  Laird  of  Dumbiedikes  did  not 
greatly  err  in  supposing  were  those  most  affecting  to  her  sex. 

"  It  canna  be.  Laird :  I  have  said  it,  and  I  canna  break 
my  word  till  him,  if  ye  wad  gie  me  the  haill  barony  of  Dal- 
keith, and  Lugton  into  the  bargain." 

"  Your  word  to  7mn."  said  the  Laird,  somewhat  pettishly  ; 
"  but  wha  is  he,  Jeanie  ? — wha  is  he  ?  I  haena  heard  his 
name  yet.  Come  now,  Jeanie,  ye  are  but  queering  us.  lam 
no  trowing  that  there  is  sic  a  ane  in  the  warld ;  ye  are  but 
making  fashion.     What  is  he  ?  wha  is  he  ?  " 

"  Just  Reuben  Butler,  that's  schulemaster  at  Liberton," 
said  Jeanie. 

"  Reuben  Butler !  Reuben  Butler  ! "  echoed  the  Laird  of 
Dumbiedikes,  pacing  the  apartment  in  high  disdain.  *' Reu- 
ben Butler,  the  dominie  at  Liberton,  and  a  dominie  depute 
too  !  Reuben,  the  son  of  my  cottar  !  Very  weel,  Jeanie, 
lass,  wilf u'  woman  will  hae  her  way.  Reuben  Butler !  he 
hasna  in  his  pouch  the  value  o'  the  auld  black  coat  he  wears 
—but  it  disna  signify."  And,  as  he  spoke,  he  shut  succes- 
sively, and  with  vehemence,  the  drawers  of  his  treasury.  "  A 
fair  offer,  Jeanie,  is  nae  cause  of  feud.  Ae  man  may  bring  a 
horse  to  the  water,  but  twenty  wuuna  gar  him  drink.  And 
as  for  wasting  my  substance  on  other  folks'  joes " 

There  was  something  in  the  last  hint  that  nettled  Jeanie's 
honest  pride.  "  I  was  begging  nane  frae  your  honor,"  she 
said  ;  *' least  of  a*  on  sic  a  score  as  ye  pit  it  on.  Gude  morn- 
ing to  ye,  sir  ;  ye  hae  been  kind  to  my  father,  and  it  isna  in 
my  heart  to  think  otherwise  than  kindly  of  you." 

So  saying,  she  left  the  room,  without  listening  to  a  faint 
"But,  Jeanie — Jeanie — stay,  woman!"  and  traversing  the 
courtyard  with  a  quick  step,  she  set  out  on  her  forward  jour- 
ney, her  bosom  glowing  with  that  natural  indignation  and 
shame  which  an  honest  mind  feels  at  having  subjected  itself 
to  ask  a  favor  which  had  been  unexpectedly  refused.  When 
out  of  the  Laird's  ground,  and  once  more  upon  the  public 
road,  her  pace  slackened,  her  anger  cooled,  and  anxious  an- 
ticipations of  the  consequence  of  this  unexpected  disappoint- 
ment began  to  influence  her  with  other  feelings.  Must  she 
then  actually  beg  her  way  to  London  ?  for  such  seemed  the 
alternative  ;  or  must  she  turn  back  and  solicit  her  father  for 
money  ;  and  by  doing  so  lose  time,  which  was  precious,  be- 
sides the  risk  of  encountering  his  positive  prohibition  respect- 
ing her  journey  ?  Yet  she  saw  no  medium  between  these 
alternatives  ;  and,  while  she  walked  slowly  on,  was  still  med- 
itating whether  it  were  not  better  to  return. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  MB 

While  she  was  thus  in  an  uncertainty,  she  heard  the  clat* 
ter  of  a  horse's  hoofs,  and  a  well-known  voice  calling  her 
name.  She  looked  round,  and  saw  advancing  towards  her  on 
a  pony,  whose  bare  back  and  halter  assorted  ill  with  the  night- 
gown, slippers,  and  laced  cocked  hat  of  the  rider,  a  cavalier 
of  no  less  importance  than  Dumbiedikes  himself.  In  the  en- 
ergy of  his  pursuit,  he  had  overcome  even  the  Highland  ob- 
stinacy of  Rory  Bean,  and  compelled  that  self-willed  palfrey 
to  canter  the  way  his  rider  chose  ;  which  Eory,  however,  per- 
formed with  all  the  symptoms  of  reluctance,  turning  his  head, 
and  accompanying  every  bound  he  made  in  advance  with  a 
sidelong  motion,  which  indicated  his  extreme  wish  to  turn 
round — a  manoeuvre  which  nothing  but  the  constant  exercise 
of  the  Laird's  heels  and  cudgel  could  possibly  have  counter- 
acted. 

When  the  Laird  came  up  with  Jeanie,  the  first  words  he 
nttered  were — "  Jeanie,  they  say  ane  shouldna  aye  take  a 
woman  at  her  first  word  ?  " 

"Aye,  but  ye  maun  take  me  at  mine.  Laird," said  Jeanie, 
looking  on  the  ground,  and  walking  on  without  a  pause.  "1 
hae  but  ae  word  to  bestow  on  onybody,  and  that's  aye  a  true 
ane." 

"Then,"  said  Dumbiedikes,  "at  least  ye  suldna  aye  take 
a  man  at  Ms  first  word.  Ye  maunna  gang  this  wilfu'  gate 
sillerless,  come  o't  what  like."  He  put  a  purse  into  her  hand. 
•'  I  wad  gie  you  Rory  too,  but  he's  as  wilfu'  as  yoursell,  and 
he's  ower  weel  used  to  a  gate  that  maybe  he  and  I  hae  gaen 
ower  aften,  and  he'll  gang  nae  road  else." 

"  But,  Laird,"  said  Jeanie,  "  though  I  ken  my  father  will 
satisfy  every  penny  of  this  siller,  whatever  there's  o't,  yet  I 
wadna  like  to  borrow  it  f  rae  ane  that  maybe  thinks  of  some- 
thing mair  than  the  paying  o't  back  again." 

"  There's  just  twenty-fivo  guineas  o't,"  said  Dumbiedikes, 
with  a  gentle  sigh,  "  and  whether  your  father  pays  or  disna 
pay,  I  make  ye  free  till't  without  another  word.  Gang  where 
ye  like,  do  what  ye  like,  and  marry  a'  the  Butlers  in  the  coun- 
try gin  ye  like.     And  sae,  gude  morning  to  you,  Jeanie." 

"  And  God  bless  you.  Laird,  wi'  mony  a  gude  morning,'* 
said  Jeanie,  her  heart  more  softened  by  the  unwonted  gener- 
osity of  this  uncouth  character  than  perhaps  Butler  might 
have  approved,  had  he  known  her  feelings  at  that  moment ; 
"and  comfort,  and  the  Lord's  peace,  and  the  peace  of  the 
world,  be  with  you,  if  we  suld  never  meet  again  ! " 

Dumbiedikes  turned  and  waved  his  hand  ;  and  his  pony, 
much  more  willing  to  return  than  he  had  been  to  set  out. 


260  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

hurried  him  homewards  so  fast  that,  wanting  the  aid  of  a 
regular  bridle,  as  well  as  of  saddle  and  stirrups,,  he  was  too 
much  puzzled  to  keep  his  seat  to  permit  of  his  looking  behind, 
even  to  give  the  parting  glance  of  a  forlorn  swain.  I  am 
ashamed  to  say  that  the  sight  of  a  lover,  run  away  with  in 
nightgown  and  slippers  and  a  laced  hat,  by  a  barebacked 
Highland  pony,  had  something  in  it  of  a  sedative,  even  to  a 
grateful  and  deserved  burst  of  affectionate  esteem.  The  figure 
of  Dumbiedikes  was  too  ludicrous  not  to  confirm  Jeanie  in  the 
original  sentiments  she  entertained  towards  him. 

"  He's  a  gude  creature,"  said  she,  ''and  a  kind  ;  it's  a  pity 
he  has  sae  willyard  a  powny."  And  she  immediately  turned 
her  thoughts  to  the  important  journey  which  she  had  com- 
menced, reflecting  with  pleasure  that,  according  to  her  habits 
of  life  and  of  undergoing  fatigue,  she  was  now  amply,  or  even 
superfluously,  provided  with  the  means  of  encountering  the 
expenses  of  the  road  up  and  down  from  London,  and  all  other 
expenses  whatever. 


CHAPTEE  XXVII 

What  strange  and  wayward  thoughts  will  slide 

Into  a  lover's  head  ; 
'*  O  mercy  I  "  to  myself  I  cried, 
"  If  Lucy  should  be  dead  1 " 

Wordsworth. 

In"  pursuing  her  solitary  journey,  our  heroine,  soon  after 
passing  the  house  of  Dumbiedikes,  gained  a  little  eminence, 
from  which,  on  looking  to  the  eastward  down  a  prattling 
brook,  whose  meanders  were  shaded  with  straggling  Tvillows 
and  alder-trees,  she  could  see  the  cottages  of  Woodend  and 
Beersheba,  the  haunts  and  habitation  of  her  early  life,  and 
could  distinguish  the  common  on  which  she  had  so  often 
herded  sheep,  and  the  recesses  of  the  rivulet  where  she  had 
pulled  rushes  with  Butler,  to  plait  crowns  and  sceptres  for 
her  sister  Effie,  then  a  beautiful  but  spoiled  child  of  about 
three  years  old.  The  recollections  which  the  scene  brought 
with  them  were  so  bitter  that,  had  she  indulged  them,  she 
would  have  sat  down  aiid  relieved  her  heart  with  tears. 

"  But  I  kenn'd,"  said  Jeanie,  when  she  gave  an  account 
of  her  pilgrimage,  "  that  greeting  would  do  but  little  good, 
and  that  it  was  mair  beseeming  to  thank  the  Lord,  that  had 
showed  me  kindness  and  countenance  by  means  of  a  man  that 
mony  ca'd  a  Nabal  and  churl,  but  wha  was  free  of  his  gudee 
tome  as  ever  the  fountain  was  free  of  the  stream.  And  I 
minded  the  Scripture  about  the  sin  of  Israel  at  Meribah, 
when  the  people  murmured,  although  Moses  had  brought 
water  from  the  dry  rock  that  the  congregation  might  drink 
and  live.  Sae,  I  wad  not  trust  mysell  with  another  look  at 
puir  Woodend,  for  the  very  blue  reek  that  came  out  of  the 
lum-head  pat  me  in  mind  of  the  change  of  market  days 
with  us."" 

In  this  resigned  and  Christian  temper  she  pursued  her 
iourney,  until  she  was  beyond  this  place  of  melancholy  recol- 
lections, and  not  distant  from  the  village  where  Butler  dwelt, 
which,  with  its  old-fashioned  church  and  steeple,  rises  among 
a  tuft  of  trees,  occupying  the  ridge  of  an  eminence  to  the  south 


362  WAVE  RLE  Y  NOVELS 

of  Edinburgh.  At  a  quarter  of  a  mile's  distance  is  a  clumsy 
square  tower,  the  residence  of  the  Laird  of  Liberton,  who,  in 
former  times,  with  the  habits  of  the  predatory  chivalry  of 
Germany,  is  said  frequently  to  have  annoyed  the  city  of  Ed- 
inburgh by  intercepting  the  supplies  and  merchandise  which 
came  to  the  town  from  the  southward. 

This  village,  its  tower,  and  its  church,  did  not  lie  precisely 
in  Jeanie's  road  towards  England  ;  but  they  were  not  much 
aside  from  it,  and  the  village  was  the  abode  of  Butler.  She 
had  resolved  to  see  him  in  the  beginning  of  her  journey,  be- 
cause she  conceived  him  the  most  proper  person  to  write  to 
her  father  concerning  her  resolution  and  her  hopes.  There 
was  probably  another  reason  latent  in  her  affectionate  bosom. 
She  wished  once  more  to  see  the  object  of  so  early  and  so  sin- 
cere an  attachment,  before  commencing  a  pilgrimage,  the  per- 
ils of  which  she  did  not  disguise  from  herself,  although  she 
did  not  allow  them  so  to  press  upon  her  mind  as  to  dimin- 
ish the  strength  and  energy  of  her  resolution.  A  visit  to  a 
lover  from  a  young  person  in  a  higher  rank  of  life  than  Jean- 
ie's would  have  had  something  forward  and  improper  in  its 
character.  But  the  simplicity  of  her  rural  habits  was  un- 
acquainted with  these  punctilious  ideas  of  decorum,  and  no 
notion,  therefore,  of  impropriety  crossed  her  imagination  as, 
setting  out  upon  a  long  journey,  she  went  to  bid  adieu  to  an 
early  friend. 

There  was  still  another  motive  that  pressed  upon  her  mind 
witb  additional  force  as  she  approached  the  village.  She  had 
looked  anxiously  for  Butler  in  the  court-house,  and  had  ex- 
pected that  certainly,  in  some  part  of  that  eventful  day,  he 
would  have  appeared  to  bring  such  countenance  and  support 
as  he  could  give  to  his  old  friend  and  the  protector  of  his 
youth,  even  if  her  own  claims  were  laid  aside.  She  knew,  in- 
deed, that  he  was  under  a  certain  degree  of  restraint ;  but 
she  still  had  hoped  that  he  would  have  found  means  to  eman- 
cipate himself  from  it,  at  least  for  •  one  day.  In  short,  the 
wild  and  wayward  thoughts  which  Wordsworth  has  described 
as  rising  in  an  absent  lover's  imagination  suggested,  as  the 
only  explanation  of  his  absence,  that  Butler  must  be  very 
ill.  And  so  much  had  this  wrought  on  her  imagination,  that 
when  she  approached  the  cottage  in  which  her  lover  occupied 
a  small  apartment,  and  which  had  been  jDointed  out  to  her  by 
a  maiden  with  a  milk-pail  on  her  head,  she  trembled  at  an- 
ticipating the  answer  she  might  receive  on  inquiring  for  him. 

Her  fears  in  this  case  had,  indeed,  only  hit  upon  the  truth. 
Butler,  whose  constitution  was  naturally  feeble,  did  not  soon 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  36J 

recover  the  fatigue  of  body  and  distress  of  mind  which  he  had 
suffered  in  consequence  of  the  tragical  events  with  which  our 
narrative  commenced.  The  painful  idea  that  his  character 
was  breathed  on  by  suspicion  was  an  aggravation  to  his  distress. 

But  the  most  cruel  addition  was  the  absolute  prohibition 
laid  by  the  magistrates  on  his  holding  any  communication  with 
Deans  or  his  family.  It  had  unfortunately  appeared  likely 
to  them  that  some  intercourse  might  be  again  attempted  with 
that  family  by  Eobertson,  through  the  medium  of  Butler,  and 
this  they  were  anxious  to  intercept,  or  prevent,  if  possible. 
The  measure  was  not  meant  as  a  harsh  or  injurious  severity  on 
the  part  of  the  magistrates  ;  but,  in  Butler's  circumstances, 
it  pressed  cruelly  hard.  He  felt  he  must  be  suffering  under 
the  bad  opinion  of  the  person  who  was  dearest  to  him,  from  an 
imputation  of  unkind  desertion,  the  most  alien  to  his  nature. 

This  painful  thought,  pressing  on  a  frame  already  injured, 
brought  on  a  succession  of  slow  and  lingering  feverish  attacks, 
which  greatly  impaired  his  health,  and  at  length  rendered 
him  incapable  even  of  the  sedentary  duties  of  the  school,  on 
which  his  bread  depended.  Fortunately,  old  Mr.  Whackbairn, 
who  was  the  principal  teacher  of  the  little  parochial  establish- 
ment, was  sincerely  attached  to  Butler.  Besides  that  he  was 
sensible  of  his  merits  and  valae  as  an  assistant,  which  had 
greatly  raised  the  credit  of  his  little  school,  the  ancient  peda- 
gogue, who  had  himself  been  tolerably  educated,  retained  some 
taste  for  classical  lore,  and  would  gladly  relax,  after  the 
drudgery  of  the  school  was  past,  by  conning  over  a  few  pages 
of  Horace  or  Juvenal  with  his  usher.  A  similarity  of  taste 
begot  kindness,  and  he  accordingly  saw  Butler's  increasing 
debility  with  great  compassion,  roused  up  his  own  energies 
to  teaching  the  school  in  the  morning  hours,  insisted  upon 
his  assistant's  reposing  himself  at  that  period,  and,  besides, 
supplied  him  with  such  comforts  as  the  patient's  situation 
required,  and  his  own  means  were  inadequate  to  compass. 

•  Such  was  Butler's  situation,  scarce  able  to  drag  himself 
to  the  place  where  his  daily  drudgery  must  gain  his  daily 
bread,  and  racked  with  a  thousand  fearful  anticipations  con- 
cerning the  fate  of  those  who  were  dearest  to  him  in  the  world, 
when  the  trial  and  condemnation  of  Effie  Deans  put  the  cope- 
stone  upon  his  mental  misery. 

He  had  a  particular  account  of  these  events  from  a  fellow- 
student  who  resided  in  the  same  village,  and  who,  having  been 
present  on  the  melancholy  occasion,  was  able  to  place  it  in  all 
its  agony  of  horrors  before  his  excruciated  imagination.  That 
sleep  should  have  visited  his  eyes,  after  such  a  curfew-note. 


$94  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

was  impossible.  A  thousand  dreadful  visions  hannted  his 
imagination  all  night,  and  in  the  morning  he  was  awaked 
from  a  feverish  slumber  by  the  only  circnmstance  which  could 
have  added  to  his  distress — the  visit  of  an  intrusive  ass. 

This  unwelcome  visitant  was  no  other  than  Bartoline  Sad- 
dletree. The  worthy  and  sapient  burgher  had  kept  his  ap- 
pointment at  MacCroskie's,  with  Plumdamas  and  some  other 
neighbors,  to  discuss  the  Duke  of  Argyle's  speech,  the  justice 
of  Effie  Deans's  condemnation,  and  the  improbability  of  her 
obtaining  a  reprieve.  This  sage  conclave  disputed  high  and 
drank  deep,  and  on  the  next  morning  Bartoline  felt,  as  he 
expressed  it,  as  if  his  head  was  like  a  ''confused  progress  of 
writs.  ^' 

To  bring  his  reflective  powers  to  their  usual  serenity.  Sad- 
dletree resolved  to  take  a  morning's  ride  upon  a  certain  hack- 
ney which  he,  Plumdamas,  and  another  honest  shopkeeper 
combined  to  maintain  by  joint  subscription,  for  occasional 
jaunts  for  the  purpose  of  business  or  exercise.  As  Saddletree 
had  two  children  boarded  with  Whackbairn,  and  was,  as  we 
have  seen,  rather  fond  of  Butler's  society,  he  turned  his  pal- 
frey's head  towards  Liberton,  and  came,  as  we  have  already 
eaid,  to  give  the  unfortunate  usher  that  additional  vexation  of 
which  Imogen  complains  so  feelingly  when  she  says, 

I'm  sprighted  with  a  fool — 
Sprighted  and  anger'd  worse. 

If  anything  could  have  added  gall  to  bitterness,  it  was  the 
choice  which  Saddletree  made  of  a  subject  for  his  prosing 
harangues,  being  the  trial  of  Effie  Deans,  and  the  probability 
of  her  being  executed.  Every  word  fell  on  Butler's  ear  like 
the  knell  of  a  death-bell  or  the  note  of  a  screech-owl. 

Jeanie  paused  at  the  door  of  her  lover's  humble  abode 
upon  hearing  the  loud  and  pompous  tones  of  Saddletree  sound- 
ing from  the  inner  apartment — "Credit  me,  it  will  be  sae, 
Mr.  Butler.  Brandy  cannot  save  her.  She  maun  gang  down 
the  Bow  wi'  the  lad  in  the  pioted  coat  *  at  her  heels.  I  am 
sorry  for  the  lassie,  but  the  law,  sir,  maun  hae  its  course — 

Vivat  rex, 
Currat  lex, 

as  the  poet  has  it,  in  whilk  of  Horace's  Odes  I  know  not." 

Here  Butler  groaned,  in  utter  impatience  of  the  brutality 
and  ignorance  which  Bartoline  had  contrived  to  amalgamate 
into   one  sentence.     But  Saddletree,  like  other  prosers,  was 

*  The  executioner,  in  a  livery  of  black  or  dark  gray  and  silver,  likened  by  low 
wit  to  a  magpie. 


TEE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  265 

blessed  with  a  happy  obtnseness  of  perception  concerning  the 
unfavorable  impression  which  he  generally  made  on  his  audi- 
tors. He  proceeded  to  deal  forth  his  scraps  of  legal  knowledge 
without  mercy,  and  concluded  by  asking  Butler  with  great 
self-complacency,  "Was  it  na  a  pity  my  father  didna  send 
m.e  to  Utrecht  ?  Havena  I  missed  the  chance  to  turn  out  as 
cJai'issimus  an  ictus  as  auld  Grunwiggin  himsell  ?  What  for 
dinna  ye  speak,  Mr.  Butler  ?  Wad  I  no  hae  been  a  clarissi- 
mus  ictus  ?    Eh,  man  ?  " 

"  I  really  do  not  understand  you,  Mr.  Saddletree,"  said 
Butler,  thus  pushed  hard  for  an  answer.  His  faint  and  ex- 
hausted tone  of  voice  was  instantly  drowned  in  the  sonorous 
bray  of  Bartoline. 

"  No  understand  me,  man  ?  Ictus  is  Latin  for  a  lawyer,  is 
it  not?" 

"  Not  that  ever  I  heard  of,"  answered  Butler,  in  the  same 
dejected  tone. 

"The  deil  ye  didna  !  See,  man,  I  got  the  word  but  this 
morning  out  of  a  memorial  of  Mr.  Crossmyloof's  ;  see,  there 
it  is,  ictus  clai'issimus  et  perfi — peritissimtis  ;  it's  a'  Latin,  for 
it's  printed  in  the  Italian  types." 

"  0,  you  mean  juris-consultits ?  Ictus  is  an  abbreviation 
for  juris-cons7(Uus." 

"Dinna  tell  me,  man,"  persevered  Saddletree;  "there's 
nae  abbreviates  except  in  adjudications ;  and  this  is  a'  about  a 
servitude  of  water-drap,  that  is  to  say,  tiUicidian* — maybe 
ye'll  say  that's  no  Latin  neither — in  Mary  King's  Close  in  the 
High  Street." 

"  Very  likely,"  said  poor  Butler,  overwhelmed  by  the  noisy 
perseverance  of  his  visitor.  "  I  am  not  able  to  dispute  with 
you." 

"Few  folk  are — few  folk  are,  Mr.  Butler,  though  I  say  it 
that  shouldna  say  it,"  returned  Bartoline,  with  great  delight. 
"Now,  it  will  be  twa  hours  yet  or  ye're  wanted  in  the  schule, 
and  as  ye  are  no  weel,  I'll  sit  wi'  you  to  divert  ye,  and  explain 
t'ye  the  nature  of  a  tilUcidian.  Ye  maun  ken,  the  petitioner, 
Mrs.  Crombie,  a  very  decent  woman,  is  a  friend  of  mine,  and 
I  hae  stude  her  friend  in  this  case,  and  brought  her  wi' credit 
into  the  court,  and  I  doubtna  that  in  due  time  she  will  win 
out  o't  wi'  credit,  win  she  or  lose  she.  Ye  see,  being  an  in- 
ferior tenement  or  laigh  house,  we  grant  ourselves  to  be  bur- 
dened wi'  the  tiUicide,  that  is,  that  we  are  obligated  to  receive 
the  natural  water-drap  of  the  superior  tenement,  sae  far  as  the 
same  fa's  frae  the  heavens,  or  the  roof  of  our   neighbor's 

•  He  meant,  probably,  stillicidiuvi. 


266  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

house,  and  from  thence  by  the  gutters  or  eaves  upon  ourlaigh 
tenement.  But  the  other  night  comes  a  Highland  quean  of 
a  lass,  and  she  flashes,  God  kens  what,  out  at  the  eastmost 
window  of  Mrs.  MacPhail's  house,  that's  the  superior  tene- 
ment. I  believe  the  auld  women  wad  hae  greed,  for  Luckie 
MacPhail  sent  down  the  lass  to  tell  my  friend  Mrs.  Crombie 
that  she  had  made  the  gardyloo  out  of  the  wrang  window, 
from  respect  for  twa  Highlandmen  that  were  speaking  Gae- 
lic in  the  close  below  the  right  ane.  But  luckily  for  Mrs. 
Crombie,  I  just  chanced  to  come  in  in  time  to  break  aff  the 
communing,  for  it's  a  pity  the  point  sulda  be  tried.  We  had 
Mrs.  MacPhail  into  the  Ten-Mark  Court.  The  Hieland  lim- 
mer  of  a  lass  wanted  to  swear  herself  free ;  but  '  Hand  ye 
there,'  says  I " 

The  detailed  account  of  this  important  suit  might  have 
lasted  until  poor  Butler's  hour  of  rest  was  completely  ex- 
hausted, had  not  Saddletree  been  interrupted  by  the  noise  of 
voices  at  the  door.  The  woman  of  the  house  where  Butler 
lodged,  on  returning  with  her  pitcher  from  the  well,  whence 
she  had  been  fetching  water  for  the  family,  found  our  hero- 
ine Jeanie  Deans  standing  at  the  door,  impatient  of  the  prolix 
harangue  of  Saddletree,  yet  unwilling  to  enter  until  he  should 
have  taken  his  leave. 

The  good  woman  abridged  the  period  of  hesitation  by  in- 
quiring, "  Was  ye  wanting  the  gudeman  or  me,  lass  ?" 

"  I  wanted  to  speak  with  Mr.  Butler,  if  he's  at  leisure,*' 
replied  Jeanie. 

"  Gang  in  bye,  then,  my  woman,"  answered  the  goodwife  ; 
and  opening  the  door  of  a  room,  she  announced  the  addi- 
tional visitor  with — "  Mr.  Butler,  here's  a  lass  wants  to  speak 
t'ye." 

The  surprise  of  Butler  was  extreme  when  Jeanie,  who 
seldom  stirred  half  a  mile  from  home,  entered  his  apartment 
upon  this  annunciation. 

''  Good  God  ! "  he  said,  starting  from  his  chair,  while 
alarm  restored  to  his  cheek  the  color  of  which  sickness  had 
deprived  it ;  "  some  new  misfortune  must  have  happened  ! " 

"None,  Mr.  Eeuben,  but  what  you  must  hae  heard  of; 
but  0,  ye  are  looking  ill  yoursell  !"  for  "the  hectic  of  a 
moment "  had  not  concealed  from  her  affectionate  eye  the 
ravages  which  lingering  disease  and  anxiety  of  mind  had 
made  in  her  lover's  person. 

*'  No ;  I  am  well — quite  well,"  said  Butler,  with  eager- 
ness ;  "  if  I  can  do  anything  to  assist  you,  Jeanie — or  your 
father/' 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  ^t 

"Ay,  to  be  sure/'  said  Saddletree  ;  "  the  family  may  be 
considered  as  limited  to  them  twa  now,  jnst  as  if  Effie  had 
never  been  in  the  tailzie,  puir  thing.  But,  Jeanie,  lass,  what 
brings  you  out  to  Liberton  sae  air  in  the  morning,  and  your 
father  lying  ill  in  the  Luckenbooths  ?  " 

"I  had  a  message  frae  my  father  to  Mr.  Butler,"  said 
Jeanie,  with  embarrassment ;  but  instantly  feeling  ashamed 
of  the  fiction  to  which  she  had  resorted,  for  her  love  of  and 
veneration  for  truth  was  almost  Quaker-like,  she  corrected 
herself — "That  is  to  say,  I  wanted  to  speak  with  Mr,  Butler 
about  some  business  of  my  fathers  and  puir  Effie's." 

"Is  it  law  business  ?  "  said  Bartoline  ;  "  because,  if  it  be, 
ye  had  better  take  my  opinion  on  the  subject  than  his.'' 

"It  is  not  just  law  business,"  said  Jeanie,  who  saw  con- 
siderable inconvenience  might  arise  from  letting  Mr.  Saddle- 
tree into  the  secret  purpose  of  her  journey  ;  "  but  I  want  Mr. 
Butler  to  write  a  letter  for  me." 

"Very  right,"  said  Mr.  Saddletree  ;  "and  if  ye'll  tell  me 
what  it  is  about,  I'll  dictate  to  Mr.  Butler  as  Mr.  Crossmyloof 
does  to  his  clerk.  Get  your  pen  and  ink  in  initialibus,  Mr. 
Butler." 

Jeanie  looked  at  Butler,  and  wrung  her  hands  with  vex- 
ation and  impatience. 

"  I  believe,  Mr.  Saddletree,"  said  Butler,  who  saw  the  ne- 
cessity of  getting  rid  of  him  at  all  events,  "that  Mr.  Whack- 
bairn  will  be  somewhat  affronted  if  you  do  not  hear  your  boys 
called  up  to  their  lessons." 

"  Indeed,  Mr.  Butler,  and  that's  as  true  ;  and  I  promised 
to  ask  a  half  play-day  to  the  schule,  so  that  the  bairns  might 
gang  and  see  the  hanging,  which  canna  but  have  a  pleasing 
effect  on  their  young  minds,  seeing  there  is  no  knowing  what 
they  may  come  to  themselves.  Odd  so,  I  didna  mind  ye  were 
here,  Jeanie  Deans  ;  but  ye  maun  use  yoursell  to  hear  the 
matter  spoken  o'.  Keep  Jeanie  here  till  I  come  back,  Mr. 
Butler ;  I  wunna  bide  ten  minutes." 

And  with  this  unwelcome  assurance  of  an  immediate  re- 
turn, he  relieved  them  of  the  embarrassment  of  his  presence. 

"  Eeuben,"said  Jeanie,  who  saw  the  necessity  of  using  the 
interval  of  his  absence  in  discussing  what  had  brought  her 
there,  "  I  am  bound  on  a  lang  journey.  I  am  gaun  to  Lun- 
non  to  ask  Effie's  life  of  the  king  and  of  the  queen." 

"Jeanie  !  you  are  surely  not  yourself,"  answered  Butler, 
in  the  utmost  surprise  ;  "you  go  to  London — yo^i  address  the 
king  and  queen  !  " 

"  And  what  for  no,  Eeuben  ?"  said  Jeanie,  with  all  the 


266  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

composed  simplicity  of  her  character  ;  ''  it's  but  speaking  to 
a  mortal  man  and  woman  when  a'  is  done.  And  their  hearts 
maun  be  made  o'  flesh  and  blood  like  other  folks',  and  Effie's 
story  wad  melt  them  were  they  stane.  Forbye,  I  hae  heard 
that  they  are  no  sic  bad  folk  as  what  the  JacolDites  ca'  them." 

''Yes,  Jeanie,"  said  Butler;  ''but  their  magnificence, 
their  retinue,  the  difficulty  of  getting  audience  ?" 

"  I  have  thought  of  a'  that,  Reuben,  and  it  shall  not  break 
my  spirit.  Nae  doubt  their  claiths  will  be  very  grand,  wi'' 
their  crowns  on  their  heads,  and  their  sceptres  in  their  hands, 
like  the  great  King  Ahasnerus  when  he  sat  upon  his  royal 
throne  f  oranent  the  gate  of  his  house,  as  we  are  told  in  Script- 
ure. But  I  have  that  within  me  that  will  keep  my  heart 
from  failing,  and  I  am  amaist  sure  that  I  will  be  strengthened 
to  speak  the  errand  I  came  for." 

"Alas  !  alas  !  "  said  Butler,  "the  kings  nowadays  do  not 
sit  in  the  gate  to  administer  justice,  as  in  patriarchal  times. 
I  know  as  little  of  courts  as  you  do,  Jeanie,  by  experience  ; 
but  by  reading  and  report  I  know  that  the  King  of  Britain 
does  everything  by  means  of  his  ministers." 

"And  if  they  be  upright.  God-fearing  ministers,"  said 
Jeanie,  "  it's  sae  muckle  the  better  chance  for  Effie  and  me." 

"  But  you  do  not  even  understand  the  most  ordinary  words 
relating  to  a  court,"  said  Butler  ;  "  by  the  ministry  is  meant 
not  clergymen,  but  the  king's  official  servants." 

"  Nae  doubt,"  returned  Jeanie,  "  he  maun  hae  a  great  num- 
ber mair,  I  daur  to  say,  than  the  Duchess  has  at  Dalkeith  ; 
and  great  folks'  servants  are  aye  mair  saucy  than  themselves. 
But  I'll  be  decently  put  on,  and  I'll  offer  them  a  trifle  o'  sil- 
ler, as  if  I  came  to  see  the  palace.  Or,  if  they  scruple  that, 
I'll  tell  them  I'm  come  on  a  business  of  life  and  death,  and 
then  they  will  surely  bring  me  to  speech  of  the  king  and 
queen  : 

Butler  shook  his  head.  "  0,  Jeanie,  this  is  entirely  a  wild 
dream.  You  can  never  see  them  but  through  some  great  lord's 
intercession,  and  I  think  it  is  scarce  possible  even  then." 

"  Weel,  but  maybe  I  can  get  that  too,"  said  Jeanie,  "  with 
a  little  helping  from  you." 

"From  me,  Jeanie  !  this  is  the  wildest  imagination  of  all." 

"  Ay,  but  it  is  not,  Reuben.  Havena  I  heard  you  aay  that 
your  grandfather,  that  my  father  never  likes  to  hear  about, 
did  some  gude  lang  syne  to  the  forbear  of  this  MacCallum- 
more,  when  he  was  Lord  of  Lorn  ?" 

"He  did  so,"  said  Butler,  eagerly,  "and  I  can  prove  it. 
I  will  write  to  the  Duke  of  Argyle — report  speaks  him  a  good 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  269 

kindly  man,  as  he  is  known  for  a  brave  soldier  and  true  pa- 
triot— I  will  conjure  him  to  stand  between  your  sister  and  this 
cruel  fate.  There  is  but  a  poor  chance  of  success,  but  we  will 
try  all  means." 

''  We  must  try  all  means/'  replied  Jeanie  ;  "  but  writing 
winna  do  it  :  a  letter  canna  look,  and  pray,  and  beg,  and  be- 
seech, as  the  human  voice  can  do  to  the  human  heart.  A  let- 
ter's like  the  music  that  the  ladies  have  for  their  spinets  : 
naething  but  black  scores,  compared  to  the  same  tune  played 
or  sung.  It's  word  of  mouth  maun  do  it,  or  naething,  Ken- 
ben." 

"You  are  right,"  said  Eeuben,  recollecting  his  firmness, 
"  and  I  will  hope  that  Heaven  has  suggested  to  your  kind  heart 
and  firm  courage  the  only  possible  means  of  saving  the  life  of 
this  unfortunate  girl.  But,  Jeanie,  you  must  not  take  this 
most  perilous  journey  alone  ;  I  have  an  interest  in  you,  and  I 
wilFnot  agree  that  my  Jeanie  throws  herself  away.  You  must, 
even  in  the  present  circumstances,  give  me  a  husband's  right 
to  protect  you,  and  I  will  go  with  you  myself  on  this  journey, 
and  assist  you  to  do  your  duty  by  your  family." 

"Alas,  Eeuben  !"  said  Jeanie,  in  her  turn,  "this  must 
not  be  ;  a  pardon  will  not  gie  my  sister  her  fair  fame  again,  or 
mak  me  a  bride  fitting  for  an  honest  man  and  an  usefu'  min- 
ister. Wha  wad  mind  what  he  said  in  the  pu'pit,  that  had  to 
wife  the  sister  of  a  woman  that  was  condemned  for  sic  wick- 
edness ?  " 

"  But,  Jeanie,"  pleaded  her  lover,  "  I  do  not  believe,  and 
I  cannot  believe,  that  Effie  has  done  this  deed." 

"Heaven  bless  you  for  saying  sae,  Eeuben!"  answered 
Jeanie  ;  "but  she  maun  bear  the  blame  o't,  after  all." 

"  But  that  blame,  were  it  even  justly  laid  on  her,  does 
not  fall  on  you." 

"Ah,  Eeuben,  Eeuben,"  replied  the  young  woman,  "ye 
ken  it  is  a  blot  that  spreads  to  kith  and  kin.  Ichabod,  as 
my  poor  father  says,  the  glory  is  departed  from  onr  house  ; 
for  the  poorest  man's  house  has  a  glory,  where  there  are  true 
hands,  a  divine  heart,  and  an  honest  fame.  And  the  last  has 
gane  frae  us  a'." 

"But,  Jeanie,  consider  your  word  and  plighted  faith  to 
me ;  and  would  ye  undertake  such  a  journey  without  a  man 
to  protect  you  ?  and  who  should  that  protector  be  but  your 
husband  ?  " 

"  You  are  kind  and  good,  Eeuben,  and  wad  tak  me  wi'  a' 
my  shame,  I  doubtna.  But  ye  canna  but  own  that  this  is  no 
time  to  marry  or  be  given  in  marriage.     Na,  if  that  suld  ever 


270  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

be,  it  maun  be  in  another  and  a  better  season.  And,  dear 
Reuben,  ye  speak  of  protecting  me  on  my  journey.  Alas  ! 
who  will  protect  and  take  care  of  you  ?  Your  very  limbs 
tremble  with  standing  for  ten  minutes  on  the  floor  ;  how 
could  you  undertake  a  journey  as  far  as  Lunnon  ?" 

"  But  I  am  strong — I  am  well,"  continued  Butler,  sink- 
ing in  his  seat  totally  exhausted  ;  *^at  least  I  shall  be  quite 
well  to-morrow." 

"  Ye  see,  and  ye  ken,  ye  maun  just  let  me  depart,"  said 
Jeanie,  after  a  pause  ;  and  then  taking  his  extended  hand, 
and  gazing  kindly  in  his  face,  she  added,  "  It's  e'en  a  grief 
the  mair  to  me  to  see  you  in  this  way.  But  ye  maun  keep 
up  your  heart  for  Jeanie's  sake,  for  if  she  isna  your  wife,  she 
will  never  be  the  wife  of  living  man.  And  now  gie  me  the 
paper  for  MacCallummore  and  bid  God  speed  me  on  my  way." 

There  was  something  of  romance  in  Jeanie's  venturous  reso- 
lution ;  yet,  on  consideration,  as  it  seemed  impossible  to  alter  it 
by  persuasion,  or  to  give  her  assistance  but  by  advice,  Butler, 
after  some  further  debate,  put  into  her  hands  the  paper  she 
desired,  which,  with  the  muster-roll  in  which  it  was  folded  up, 
were  the  sole  memorials  of  the  stout  and  enthusiastic  Bible 
Butler,  his  grandfather.  While  Butler  sought  this  document, 
Jeanie  had  time  to  take  up  his  pocket  Bible.  "  I  have  marked 
a  scripture,"  she  said,  as  she  again  laid  it  down,  "  with  your 
keelyvine  pen,  that  will  be  useful  to  usbaith.  And  ye  maun 
tak  the  trouble,  Reuben,  to  write  a'  this  to  my  father,  for,  God 
help  me,  I  have  neither  head  nor  hand  for  lang  letters  at  ony 
time,  forbye  now  ;  and  I  trust  him  entirely  to  you,  and  I  trust 
you  will  soon  be  permitted  to  see  him.  And,  Reuben,  when  ye 
do  win  to  the  speech  o'  him,  mind  a'  the  auld  man's  bits  o'  ways, 
for  Jeanie's  sake  ;  and  dinna  speak  o'  Latin  or  English  terms 
to  him,  for  he's  o'  the  auld  warld,  and  downa  bide  to  be  fashed 
wi'  them,  though  I  dare  say  he  may  be  wrang.  And  dinna  ye 
say  muckle  to  him,  but  set  him  on  speaking  himsell,  for  he'll 
bring  himsell  mair  comfort  that  way.  And  0,  Reuben,  the 
poor  lassie  in  yon  dungeon  ! — but  I  needna  bid  your  kind  heart 
— gie  her  what  comfort  ye  can  as  soon  as  they  will  let  ye  see 

her  ;  tell  her But  I  maunna  speak  mair  about  her,  for  I 

maunna  take  leave  o'  ye  wi'  the  tear  in  my  ee,  for  that  wadna 
be  canny.     God  bless  ye,  Reuben  !  " 

To  avoid  so  ill  an  omen  she  left  the  room  hastily,  while  her 
features  yet  retained  the  mournful  and  affectionate  smile  which 
she  had  compelled  them  to  wear  in  order  to  support  Butler's 
spirits. 

It  seemed  as  if  the  power  of  sight,  of  speech,  and  of  reflec- 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  971 

tion  had  left  him  as  she  disappeared  from  the  room,  which 
she  had  entered  and  retired  from  so  like  an  apparition.  Sad- 
dletree, who  entered  immediately  afterwards,  overwhelmed 
him  with  questions,  which  he  answered  without  understand- 
ing them,  and  with  legal  disquisitions,  which  conveyed  to  him 
no  iota  of  meaning.  At  length  the  learned  burgess  recollected 
that  there  was  a  baron  court  to  be  held  at  Loanhead  that  day, 
and  though  it  was  hardly  worth  while,  "he  might  as  weel  go 
to  see  if  there  was  onything  doing,  as  he  was  acquainted  with 
the  baron-bailie,  who  was  a  decent  man,  and  would  be  glad  of 
a  word  of  legal  advice." 

So  soon  as  he  departed,  Butler  flew  to  the  Bible,  the  last 
book  which  Jeanie  had  touched.  To  his  extreme  surprise,  a 
paper,  containing  two  or  three  pieces  of  gold,  dropped  from 
the  book.  With  a  black-lead  pencil  she  had  marked  the  six- 
teenth and  twenty-fifth  verses  of  the  thirty-seventh  Psalm — 
"A  little  that  a  righteous  man  hath  is  better  than  the  richi^s 
of  the  wicked."  "I  have  been  young  and  am  now  old,  yet 
have  I  not  seen  the  righteous  forsaken,  nor  his  seed  begging 
their  bread." 

Deeply  impressed  with  the  affectionate  delicacy  which 
shrouded  its  own  generosity  under  the  cover  of  a  providential 
supply  to  his  wants,  he  pressed  the  gold  to  his  lips  with  more 
ardor  than  ever  the  metal  was  greeted  with  by  a  miser.  To 
emulate  her  devout  firmness  and  confidence  seemed  now  the 
pitch  of  his  ambition,  and  his  first  task  was  to  write  an  account 
to  David  Deans  of  his  daughter's  resolution  and  journey  south- 
ward. He  studied  every  sentiment,  and  even  every  phrase, 
which  he  thought  could  reconcile  the  old  man  to  her  extraor- 
dinary resolution.  The  effect  which  this  epistle  produced 
will  be  hereafter  adverted  to.  Butler  committed  it  to  the 
charge  of  an  honest  clown,  who  had  frequent  dealings  with 
Deans  in  the  sale  of  his  dairy  produce,  and  who  readily  under- 
took a  journey  to  Edinburgh  to  put  the  letter  into  his  own 
hands.* 

*  By  dint  of  assiduous  research,  I  am  enabled  to  certiorate  the  reader  that  the 
name  of  this  person  was  Saunders  Broadfoot,  and  that  he  dealt  in  the  wholesom* 
commodity  called  kirn-milk  CAnglice,  buttermilk").— J.  C. 


CHAPTER  XXVIIIS 

My  native  land,  good  night ! 

Lord  Byron. 

In  the  present  day,  a  Jonrney  from  Edinburgh  to  London  is  a 
matter  at  once  safe,  brief,  and  simple,  however  inexperienced 
or  unprotected  the  traveller.  Numerous  coaches  of  different 
rates  of  charge,  and  as  many  packets,  are  perpetually  passing 
and  repassing  betwixt  the  capital  of  Britain  and  her  northern 
sister,  so  that  the  most  timid  or  indolent  may  execute  such  a 
journey  upon  a  few  hours'  notice.  But  it  was  different  in  1737. 
So  slight  and  infrequent  was  then  the  intercourse  betwixt 
London  and  Edinburgh  that  men  still  alive  remember,  that 
upon  one  occasion  tlie  mail  from  the  former  city  arrived  at 
the  General  Post- Office  in  Scotland  with  only  one  letter  in  it.* 
The  usual  mode  of  travelling  was  by  means  of  post-horses,  the 
traveller  occupying  one  and  his  guide  another,  in  which  man- 
ner, by  relays  of  horses  from  stage  to  stage,  the  journey  might 
be  accomplished  in  a  wonderfully  short  time  by  those  who 
could*  endure  fatigue.  To  have  the  bones  shaken  to  pieces  by 
a  constant  change  of  those  hacks  was  a  luxury  for  the  rich  ; 
the  poor  were  under  the  necessity  of  using  the  mode  of  con- 
veyance with  which  nature  had  provided  them. 

With  a  strong  heart,  and  a  frame  patient  of  fatigue,  Jeanie 
Deans,  travelling  at  the  rate  of  twenty  miles  a  day,  and  some- 
times further,  traversed  the  southern  part  of  Scotland  and  ad- 
vanced as  far  as  Durham. 

Hitherto  she  had  been  either  among  her  own  country-folk, 
or  those  to  whom  her  bare  feet  and  tartan  screen  were  objects 
too  familiar  to  attract  much  attention.  But  as  she  advanced, 
she  perceived  that  both  circumstances  exposed  her  to  sarcasm 
and  taunts  which  she  might  otherwise  have  escaped  ;  and  al- 
though in  her  heart  she  thought  it  unkind  and  inhospitable 
to  sneer  at  a  passing  stranger  on  account  of  the  fashion  of  her 
attire,  yet  she  had  the  good  sense  to  alter  those  parts  of  her 
dress  which  attracted  ill-natured  observation.     Her  checked 

*  The  fact  is  certain.  The  single  epistle  was  addressed  to  the  principal  director 
of  the  British  Linen  Company. 

X2 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  278 

screen  was  deposited  carefnlly  in  her  bundle,  and  she  con- 
formed to  the  national  extravagance  of  wearing  shoes  and 
stockings  for  the  whole  day.  She  confessed  afterwards  that, 
**  besides  the  wastrife,  it  was  lang  or  she  could  walk  sae  com- 
fortably with  the  shoes  as  without  them  ;  but  there  was  often 
a  bit  saft  heather  by  the  roadside,  and  that  helped  her  weel 
on."  The  want  of  the  screen,  which  was  drawn  over  the  head 
like  a  veil,  she  supplied  by  a  Ion-grace,  as  she  called  it — a 
large  straw  bonnet,  like  those  worn  by  the  English  maidens 
when  laboring  in  the  fields.  "  But  I  thought  unco  shame  o* 
mysell,"  she  said,  "  the  first  time  I  put  on  a  married  woman's 
Ion-grace,  and  me  a  single  maiden/' 

With  these  changes  she  had  little,  as  she  said,  to  make 
"her  kenspeckle  when  she  didna  speak,"  but  her  accent  and 
language  drew  down  on  her  so  many  jests  and  gibes,  couched 
in  a  worse  patois  by  far  than  her  own,  that  she  scon  found  it 
was  her  interest  to  talk  as  little  and  as  seldom  as  possible. 
She  answered,  therefore,  civil  salutations  of  chance  passen- 
gers with  a  civil  courtesy,  and  chose,  with  anxious  circum- 
spection, such  places  of  repose  as  looked  at  once  most  decent 
and  sequestered.  She  found  the  common  people  of  England, 
although  inferior  in  courtesy  to  strangers,  such  as  was  then 
practised  in  her  own  more  unfrequented  country,  yet,  upon 
the  whole,  by  no  means  deficient  in  the  real  duties  of  hospi- 
tality. She  readily  obtained  food,  and  shelter,  and  protection 
at  a  very  moderate  rate,  which  sometimes  the  generosity  of 
mine  host  altogether  declined,  with  a  blunt  apology — "  Thee 
hast  a  lang  way  afore  thee,  lass  ;  and  I'se  ne'er  take  penny 
out  o'  a  single  woman's  purse  ;  it's  the  best  friend  thou  can 
have  on  the  road." 

It  often  happened,  too,  that  mine  hostess  was  struck  with 
"  the  tidy,  nice  Scotch  body,"  and  procured  her  an  escort,  or 
a  cast  in  a  wagon,  for  some  part  of  the  way,  or  gave  her  use- 
ful advice  and  recommendation  respecting  her  resting-places. 

At  York  our  pilgrim  stopped  for  the  best  part  of  a  day — 
partly  to  recruit  her  strength,  partly  because  she  had  the 
good  luck  to  obtain  a  lodging  in  an  inn  kept  by  a  country- 
woman, partly  to  indite  two  letters  to  her  father  and  Reuben 
Butler,  an  operation  of  some  little  difficulty,  her  habits  being 
by  no  means  those  of  literary  composition.  That  to  her  father 
was  in  the  following  words  : 

"  Dearest  Father, 

"  I  make  my  present  pilgrimage  more  neavy  and  burden- 
some through  the  sad  occasion  to  reflect  that  it  is  without 


;274  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

your  knowledge,  which,  God  knows,  was  far  contrary  to  my 
heart ;  for  Scripture  says  that '  the  vow  of  the  daughter  should 
not  be  binding  without  the  consent  of  the  father/  wherein  it 
may  be  I  have  been  guilty  to  tak  this  wearie  journey  without 
your  consent.  Nevertheless,  it  was  borne  in  upon  my  mind 
that  I  should  be  an  instrument  to  help  my  poor  sister  in  this 
extremity  of  needcessity,  otherwise  I  wad  not,  for  wealth  or  for 
world's  gear,  or  for  the  haill  lands  of  Da'keith  and  Lugton, 
have  done  the  like  o'*  this,  without  your  free  will  and  knowl- 
edge. 0,  dear  father,  as  ye  wad  desire  a  blessing  on  my  jour- 
ney, and  upon  your  household,  speak  a  word  or  write  a  line  of 
comfort  to  yon  poor  prisoner.  If  she  has  sinned,  she  has  sor- 
rowed and  suffered,  and  ye  ken  better  than  me  that  we  maun 
forgie  others,  as  we  pray  to  be  forgien.  Dear  father,  forgive 
my  saying  this  muckle,  for  it  doth  not  become  a  young  head 
to  instruct  gray  hairs  ;  but  I  am  sae  far  f rae  ye,  that  my  heart 
yearns  to  ye  a',  and  fain  wad  I  hear  that  ye  had  forgien  her 
trespass,  and  sae  I  nae  doubt  say  mair  than  may  become  me. 
The  folk  here  are  civil,  and,  like  the  barbarians  unto  the  holy 
apostle,  hae  shown  me  much  kindness  ;  and  there  are  a  sort 
of  chosen  people  in  the  land,  for  they  hae  some  kirks  without 
organs  that  are  like  ours,  and  are  called  meeting-houses,  where 
the  minister  preaches  without  a  gown.  But  most  of  the  coun- 
try are  prelatists,  whilk  is  awfu'  to  think  ;  and  I  saw  twa 
men  that  were  ministers  following  hunds,  as  bauld  as  Roslin 
or  Driden,  the  young  Laird  of  Loup-the-Dike,  or  ony  wild 
gallant  in  Lothian.  A  sorrowfu'  sight  to  behold  !  0,  dear 
father,  may  a  blessing  be  with  your  down-lying  and  up-rising, 
and  remember  in  your  prayers  your  affectionate  daughter  to 
command, 

"  Jean  Deans." 

A  postscript  bore — "I  learned  from  a  decent  woman,  a 
grazier's  widow,  that  they  hae  a  cure  for  the  muir-ill  in  Cum- 
berland, whilk  is  ane  pint,  as  they  ca't,  of  yill — whilk  is  a 
dribble  in  comparison  of  our  gawsie  Scots  pint,  and  hardly  a 
mutchkin — boil'd  wi'  sope  and  hartshorn  draps,  and  toomed 
doun  the  creature's  throat  wi'  ane  whom.  Ye  might  try  it 
on  the  bauson-faced  year-auld  quey  ;  an  it  does  nae  gude,  it 
can  do  nae  ill.  She  was  a  kind  woman,  and  seemed  skeely 
about  horned  beasts.  When  I  reach  Lunnon,  I  intend  to  gang 
to  our  cousin  Mistress  Glass,  the  tobacconist,  at  the  sign 
o'  the  Thistle,  wha  is  so  ceevil  as  to  send  you  down  your 
spleuchan-fu'  anes  a  year  ;  and  as  she  must  be  weel  kenn'd 
in  Lunnon,  I  doubt  not  easily  to  find  out  where  she  lives.'* 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  275 

Being  seduced  into  betraying  our  heroine's  confidence 
thus  far,  we  will  stretch  our  communication  a  step  beyond, 
and  impart  to  the  reader  her  letter  to  her  lover. 

"  Mr.  Reuben  Butler, 

"Hoping  this  will  find  you  better,  this  comes  to  say,  that 
I  have  reached  this  great  town  safe,  and  am  not  wearied 
with  walking,  but  the  better  for  it.  And  I  have  seen  many 
things  which  I  trust  to  tell  you  one  day,  also  the  muckle  kirk 
of  this  place  ;  and  all  around  the  city  are  mills,  whilk  havena 
muckle  wheels  nor  mill-dams,  but  gang  by  the  wind — strange 
to  behold.  Ane  miller  asked  me  to  gang  in  and  see  it  work, 
but  I  wad  not,  for  I  am  not  come  to  the  south  to  make  ac- 
quaintance with  strangers.  I  keep  the  straight  road,  and  just 
beck  if  onybody  speaks  to  me  ceevilly,  and  answers  naebody 
with  the  tong  but  women  of  mine  ain  sect.  I  wish,  Mr.  But- 
ler, I  kenn'd  onything  that  wad  mak  ye  weel,  for  they  hae 
niair  medicines  in  this  town  of  York  than  wad  cure  a'  Scot- 
land, and  surely  some  of  them  wad  be  gude  for  your  com- 
plaints. If  ye  had  a  kindly  motherly  body  to  nurse  ye,  and 
no  to  let  ye  waste  yoursell  wi'  reading — whilk  ye  read  mail 
than  eneugh  with  the  bairns  in  the  schule — and  to  gie  ye  warm 
milk  in  the  morning,  I  wad  be  mair  easy  for  ye.  Dear  Mr. 
Butler,  keep  a  good  heart,  for  we  are  in  the  hands  of  Ane 
that  kens  better  what  is  gude  for  us  than  we  ken  what  is  for 
oursells.  I  hae  nae  doubt  to  do  that  for  which  I  am  come : 
I  canna  doubt  it — I  winna  think  to  doubt  it  ;  because,  if  I 
haena  full  assurance,  how  shall  I  bear  myself  with  earnest 
entreaties  in  the  great  folks'  presence  ?  But  to  ken  that  ane's 
purpose  is  right,  and  ta  make  their  heart  strong,  is  the  way 
to  get  through  the  warst  day's  darg.  The  bairns'  rime  says, 
the  warst  blast  of  the  borrowing  days*  couldna  kill  the  three 
silly  poor  hog-lambs.  And  if  it  be  God's  pleasure,  we  that 
are  sindered  in  sorrow  may  meet  again  in  joy,  even  on  this 
hither  side  of  Jordan.  I  dinna  bid  ye  mind  what  I  said  at 
our  partin'  anent  my  poor  father  and  that  misfortunate  lassie, 
for  I  ken  you  will  do  sae  for  the  sake  of  Christian  charity, 
whilk  is  mair  than  the  entreaties  of  her  that  is  your  servant 
to  command, 

*' Jeanie  Deans.'' 

This  letter  also  had  a  postscript.  "  Dear  Reuben,  If  ye 
think  that  it  wad  hae  been  right  for  me  to  have  said  mair  and 
kinder  things  to  ye,  just  think  that  I  hae  written  sae,  since  I 

*  See  Note  39. 


376  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

am  snre  that  I  wish  a'  that  is  kind  and  right  to  ye  and  by  ye. 
Ye  will  think  I  am  turned  waster,  for  I  wear  clean  hose  and 
shoon  every  day ;  but  it's  the  fashion  here  for  decent  bodies, 
and  ilka  land  has  its  ain  lauch.  Ower  and  aboon  sl',  if 
laughing  days  were  e'er  to  come  back  again  till  us,  ye  wad 
laugh  weel  to  see  my  round  face  at  the  far  end  of  a  strae  bon- 
grace,  that  looks  as  rauckle  and  round  as  the  middell  aisle  in 
Liberton  kirk.  But  it  sheds  the  sun  weel  aff,  and  keeps  un- 
ceevil  folk  f rae  staring  as  if  ane  were  a  worriecow.  I  sail  tell 
ye  by  writ  how  I  come  on  wi'  the  Duke  of  Argyle,  when  I 
won  up  to  Lunnon.  Direct  a  line,  to  say  how  ye  are,  to  me, 
to  the  charge  of  Mrs.  Margaret  Glass,  tobacconist,  at  the  sign 
of  the  Thistle,  Lunnon,  whilk,  if  it  assures  me  of  your  health, 
will  make  my  mind  sae  muckle  easier.  Excuse  bad  spelling 
and  writing,  as  I  have  ane  ill  pen." 

The  orthography  of  these  epistles  may  seem  to  the  south- 
ron to  require  a  better  apology  than  the  letter  expresses, 
though  a  bad  pen  was  the  excuse  of  a  certain  Galwegian  laird 
for  bad  spelling  ;  but,  on  behalf  of  the  heroine,  I  would  have 
them  to  know  that,  thanks  to  the  care  of  Butler,  Jeanie  Deans 
wrote  and  spelled  fifty  times  better  than  half  the  women  of 
rank  in  Scotland  at  that  period,  whose  strange  orthography 
and  singular  diction  form  the  strongest  contrast  to  the  good 
sense  which  their  correspondence  usually  intimates. 

For  the  rest,  in  the  tenor  of  these  epistles,  Jeanie  expressed, 
perhaps,  more  hopes,  a  firmer  courage,  and  better  spirits  than 
she  actually  felt.  But  this  was  with  the  amiable  idea  of  reliev- 
ing her  father  and  lover  from  apprehensions  on  her  account, 
which  she  was  sensible  must  greatly  add  to  their  other  troubles. 
"  If  they  think  me  weel,  and  like  to  do  weel,"  said  the  poor 
pilgrim  to  herself,  "  my  father  will  be  kinder  to  Eflfie,  and  But- 
ler will  be  kinder  to  himself.  For  I  ken  weel  that  they  will 
think  mair  o'  me  than  I  do  o'  my  sell." 

Accordingly,  she  sealed  her  letters  carefully,  and  put  them 
into  the  post-office  with  her  own  hand,  after  many  inquiries  con- 
cerning the  time  in  which  they  were  likely  to  reach  Edinburgh. 
When  this  duty  was  performed,  she  readily  accepted  her  land- 
lady's pressing  invitation  to  dine  with  her,  and  remain  till  the 
next  morning.  The  hostess,  as  we  have  said,  was  her  country- 
woman, and  the  eagerness  with  which  Scottish  people  meet, 
communicate,  and,  to  the  extent  of  their  power,  assist  each 
other,  although  it  is  often  objected  to  us  as  a  prejudice  and 
narrowness  of  sentiment,  seems,  on  the  contrary,  to  arise  from  a 
most  justifiable  and  honorable  feeling  of  patriotism,  combined 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  277 

■with  a  conviction,  which,  if  undeserved,  would  long  since  have 
been  confuted  by  experience,  that  the  habits  and  principles 
of  the  nation  are  a  sort  of  guarantee  for  the  character  of  the 
individual.  At  any  rate,  if  the  extensive  influence  of  this 
national  partiality  be  considered  as  an  additional  tie,  binding 
man  to  man,  and  calling  forth  the  good  offices  of  such  as  can 
render  them  to  the  countryman  who  happens  to  need  them,  we 
think  it  must  be  found  to  exceed,  as  an  active  and  efficient 
motive  to  generosity,  that  more  impartial  and  wider  principle 
of  general  benevolence,  which  we  have  sometimes  seen  pleaded 
as  an  excuse  for  assisting  no  individual  whatever. 

Mrs.  Bickerton,  lady  of  tlie  ascendant  of  the  Seven  Stars,  in 
the  Castle  Gate,  York,  was  deeply  infected  with  the  unfortunate 
prejudices  of  her  country.  Indeed,  she  displayed  so  much 
kindness  to  Jeanie  Deans  (because  she  herself,  being  a  Merse 
Avoman,  "marched"  with  Midlothian,  in  which  Jeanie  was 
born),  showed  such  motherly  regard  to  her,  and  such  anxiety 
for  her  further  progress,  that  Jeanie  thought  herself  safe, 
though  by  temper  sufficiently  cautious,  in  communicating  her 
whole  story  to  her. 

Mrs.  Bickerton  raised  her  hands  and  eyes  at  the  recital, 
and  exhibited  much  wonder  and  pity.  But  she  also  gave 
some  effectual  good  advice. 

She  required  to  know  the  strength  of  Jeanie's  purse,  reduced 
by  her  deposit  at  Liberton  and  the  necessary  expense  of  her 
journey  to  about  fifteen  pounds.  "  This,"  she  said,  "would 
do  very  well,  providing  she  could  carry  it  a'  safe  to  London." 

"  Safe  ! "  answered  Jeanie.  "  I'se  warrant  my  carrying  it 
safe,  bating  the  needful  expenses." 

"Ay,  but  highwaymen,  lassie,"  said  Mrs.  Bickerton  ;  "for 
ye  are  come  into  a  more  civilized,  that  is  to  say,  a  more  ro- 
guish, country  than  the  north,  and  how  ye  are  to  get  forward 
I  do  not  profess  to  know.  If  ye  could  wait  here  eight  days, 
our  wagons  would  go  up,  and  I  would  recommend  you  to  Joe 
Broadwheel,  who  would  see  you  safe  to  the  Swan  and  Two 
Necks.  And  dinna  sneeze  at  Joe,  if  he  should  be  for  drawing 
up  wi'you,"  continued  Mrs.  Bickerton,  her  acquired  English 
mingling  with  her  national  or  original  dialect  ;  "  he's  a  handy 
boy,  and  a  wanter,  and  no  lad  better  thought  o'  on  the  road  ; 
and  the  English  make  good  husbands  enough,  witness  my  poor 
man,  Moses  Bickerton,  as  is  i'  the  kirkyard." 

Jeanie  hastened  to  say  that  she  could  not  possibly  wait  for 
tne  setting  forth  of  Joe  Broadwheel  ;  being  internally  by  no 
means  gratified  with  the  idea  of  becoming  the  object  of  his 
attention  during  the  journey. 


878  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

"Aweel,  lass/' answered  the  good  landlady,  "then  thon 
must  pickle  in  thine  ain  poke-nook,  and  buckle  thy  girdle 
thine  ain  gate.  But  take  my  advice,  and  hide  thy  gold  in  thy 
stays,  and  keep  a  piece  or  two  and  some  silver,  in  case  thou  be'st 
spoke  withal ;  for  there's  as  wud  lads  haunt  within  a  day's 
walk  from  hence  as  on  the  Braes  of  Donne  in  Perthshire. 
And,  lass,  thou  maunna  gang  staring  through  Lunnon,  asking 
wha  kens  Mrs.  Glass  at  the  sign  o'  the  Thistle  ;  marry,  they 
would  laugh  thee  to  scorn.  But  gang  thou  to  this  honest 
man,'^  and  she  put  a  direction  into  Jeanie's  hand,  "  he  kens 
maist  part  of  the  'sponsible  Scottish  folk  in  the  city,  and  he 
will  find  out  your  friend  for  thee." 

Jeanie  took  the  little  introductory  letter  with  sincere  thanks; 
but,  something  alarmed  on  the  subject  of  the  highway  robbers, 
her  mind  recurred  to  what  Ratcliffe  had  mentioned  to  her,  and 
briefly  relating  the  circumstances  which  placed  a  document  so 
extraordinary  in  her  hands,  she  put  the  paper  he  had  given 
her  into  the  hand  of  Mrs.  Bickerton. 

The  Lady  of  the  Seven  Stars  did  not,  indeed,  ring  a  bell, 
because  such  was  not  the  fashion  of  the  time,  but  she  whistled 
on  a  silver-call,  which  was  hung  by  her  side,  and  a  tight  serv- 
ing-maiden entered  the  room. 

•'  Tell  Dick  Ostler  to  come  here,"  said  Mrs.  Bickerton. 

Dick  Ostler  accordingly  made  his  appearance — a  queer, 
knowing,  shambling  animal,  with  a  hatchet-face,  a  squint,  a 
game  arm,  and  a  limp. 

"  Dick  Ostler,"  said  Mrs.  Bickerton,  in  a  tone  of  author- 
ity that  showed  she  was,  at  least  by  adoption,  Yorkshire  too, 
*'  thou  knowest  most  people  and  most  things  o'  the  road." 

"Eye,  eye,  God  help  me,  mistress,"  said  Dick,  shrugging 
his  shoulders  betwixt  a  repentant  and  a  knowing  expression — 
"  eye  !  I  ha'  know'd  a  thing  or  twa  i'  ma  day,  mistress."  He 
looked  sharp  and  laughed,  looked  grave  and  sighed,  as  one 
who  was  prepared  to  take  the  matter  either  way. 

"  Kenst  thou  this  wee  bit  paper  amang  the  rest,  man  ?'* 
said  Mrs.  Bickerton,  handing  him  the  protection  which  Rat- 
cliffe had  given  Jeanie  Deans. 

When  Dick  had  looked  at  the  paper,  he  winked  with  one 
eye,  extended  his  grotesque  mouth  from  ear  to  ear,  like  a 
navigable  canal,  scratched  his  head  powerfully,  and  then  said, 
"  Ken  !  Ay,  maybe  we  ken  summat,  an  it  werena  for  harm 
to  him,  mistress." 

"  None  in  the  world,"  said  Mrs.  Bickerton  ;  "  only  a 
dram  of  Hollands  to  thyself,  man,  an  thou  will't  speak." 

"  Why,  then,"  said  Dick,  giving  the  head-band  of  his 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  379 

breeches  a  knowing  hoist  with  one  hand,  and  kicking  out  one 
foot  behind  him  to  accommodate  the  adjustment  of  that  im- 
portant habiliment,  ''I  dares  to  say  the  pass  will  be  kenn'd 
weel  eneugh  on  the  road,  an  that  be  all." 

"  But  what  sort  of  a  lad  was  he  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Bickerton, 
winking  to  Jeanie,  as  proud  of  her  knowing  hostler. 

"  Why,  what  ken  I  ?  Jim  the  Eat  !  why  he  was  cock 
o'  the  North  within  this  twelmonth,  he  and  Scotch  Wilson — 
Handie  Dandie,  as  they  called  him.  But  he's  been  out  o'  this 
country  a  while,  as  I  rackon  ;  but  ony  gentleman  as  keeps 
the  road  o'  this  side  Stamford  will  respect  Jim's  pass." 

Without  asking  further  questions,  the  landlady  filled  Dick 
Ostler  a  bumper  of  Hollands.  He  ducked  with  his  head  and 
shoulders,  scraped  with  his  more  advanced  hoof,  bolted  the 
alcohol,  to  use  the  learned  phrase,  and  withdrew  to  his  own 
domains. 

"  I  would  advise  thee,  Jeanie,"  said  Mrs.  Bickerton,  "  an 
thou  meetest  with  ugly  customers  o'  the  road,  to  show  them 
this  bit  paper,  for  it  will  serve  thee,  assure  thyself." 

A  neat  little  supper  concluded  the  evening.  The  exported 
Scotswoman,  Mrs.  Bickerton  by  name,  eat  heartily  of  one  or 
two  seasoned  dishes,  drank  some  sound  old  ale,  and  a  glass  of 
stiff  negus,  while  she  gave  Jeanie  a  history  of  her  gout,  admir- 
ing how  it  was  possible  that  she,  whose  fathers  and  mothers 
for  many  generations  had  been  farmers  in  Lammermuir,  could 
have  come  by  a  disorder  so  totally  unknown  to  them.  Jeanie 
did  not  choose  to  offend  her  friendly  landlady  by  speaking  her 
mind  on  the  probable  origin  of  this  complaint ;  but  she  thought 
on  the  flesh-pots  of  Egypt,  and,  in  spite  of  all  entreaties  to 
better  fare,  made  her  evening  meal  upon  vegetables,  with  a 
glass  of  fair  water. 

Mrs,  Bickerton  assured  her  that  the  acceptance  of  any 
reckoning  was  entirely  out  of  the  question,  furiiished  her  with 
credentials  to  her  correspondent  in  London,  and  to  several 
inns  upon  the  road  where  she  had  some  influence  or. interest, 
reminded  her  of  the  precautions  she  should  adopt  for  conceal- 
ing her  money,  and,  as  she  Avas  to  depart  early  in  the  morn- 
ing, took  leave  of  her  very  affectionately,  taking  her  word 
that  she  would  visit  her  on  her  return  to  Scotland,  and  tell 
her  how  she  had  managed,  and  that  summiim  honum  for 
a  gossip,  **all  how  and  about  it."  This  Jeanie  faithfully 
promised. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

And  Need  and  Misery,  Vice  and  Danger,  bind, 
In  sad  alliance,  each  degraded  mind. 

As  our  traveller  set  out  early  on  the  ensuing  morning  to  prose- 
cute her  journey^  and  was  in  the  act  of  leaving  the  inn-yard, 
Dick  Ostler,  who  either  had  risen  early  or  neglected  to  go  to 
bed,  either  circumstance  being  equally  incident  to  his  call- 
ing, hallooed  out  after  her — "  The  top  of  the  morning  to  yon, 
Moggie  !  Have  a  care  o'  Gunnerby  Hill,  young  one.  Robin 
Hood's  dead  and  gwone,  but  there  be  takers  yet  in  the  vale  of 
Beever."  Jeanie  looked  at  him  as  if  to  request  a  further  ex- 
planation, but,  with  a  leer,  a  shuffle,  and  a  shrug,  inimitable 
(unless  by  Emery),  Dick  turned  again  to  the  raw-boned  steed 
which  he  was  currying,  and  sung  as  he  employed  the  comb  and 
brush — 

"  Robin  Hood  was  a  yeoman  good, 
And  his  bow  was  of  trusty  yew  ; 
And  if  Robin  said  stand  on  the  king's  lea-land, 
Pray,  why  should  not  we  say  so  too?  " 

Jeanie  pursued  her  journey  without  further  inquiry,  for 
there  was  nothing  in  Dick's  manner  that  inclined  her  to  pro- 
long their  conference.  A  painful  day's  journey  brought  her 
to  Ferrybridge,  the  best  inn,  then  and  since,  upon  the  great 
northern  road ;  and  an  introduction  from  Mrs.  Bickerton, 
added  to  her  own  simple  and  quiet  manners,  so  propitiated 
the  landlady  of  the  Swan  in  her  favor  that  the  good  dame  pro- 
cured her  the  convenient  accommodation  of  a  pillion  and  post- 
horse  then  returning  to  Tuxford  ;  so  that  she  accomplished, 
upon  the  second  day  after  leaving  York,  the  longest  journey 
she  had  yet  made.  She  was  a  good  deal  fatigued  by  a  mode 
of  travelling  to  which  she  was  less  accustomed  than  to  walking, 
and  it  was  considerably  later  than  usual  on  the  ensuing  morn- 
ing that  she  felt  herself  able  to  resume  her  pilgrimage.  At 
noon  the  hundred  armed  Trent,  and  the  blackened  ruins  of 
Newark  Castle,  demolished  in  the  great  Civil  War,  lay  before 
her.  It  may  easily  be  supposed  that  Jeanie  had  no  curiosity 
to  make  antiquarian  researches,  bat,  entering  the  town,  went 

880 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  98; 

straight  to  the  inn  to  which  she  had  been  directed  at  Ferry- 
bridge. While  she  procnred  some  refreshment,  she  observed 
the  girl  who  brought  it  to  her  looked  at  her  several  times  with 
fixed  and  peculiar  interest,  and  at  last,  to  her  infinite  surprise, 
inquired  if  her  name  was  not  Deans,  and  if  she  was  not  a 
Scotchwoman,  going  to  London  upon  justice  business.  Jeanie, 
with  all  her  simplicity  of  character,  had  some  of  the  caution 
of  her  country,  and,  according  to  Scottish  universal  custom, 
she  answered  the  question  by  another,  requesting  the  girl 
would  tell  her  why  she  asked  these  questions. 

The  Maritornes  of  the  Saracen's  Head,  Newark,  replied, 
^'  Two  women  had  passed  that  morning,  who  had  made 
inquiries  after  one  Jeanie  Deans,  travelling  to  London  on 
such  an  errand,  and  could  scarce  be  persuaded  that  she  had 
not  passed  on." 

Much  surprised,  and  somewhat  alarmed,  for  what  is  in- 
explicable is  usually  alarming,  Jeanie  questioned  the  wench 
about  the  particular  appearance  of  these  two  women,  but 
could  only  learn  that  the  one  was  aged  and  the  other  young  ; 
that  the  latter  was  the  taller,  and  that  the  former  spoke  most 
and  seemed  to  maintain  an  authority  over  her  companion, 
and  that  both  spoke  with  the  Scottish  accent. 

This  conveyed  no  information  whatever,  and  with  an  in- 
describable presentiment  of  evil  designed  towards  her,  Jeanie 
adopted  the  resolution  of  taking  post-horses  for  the  next  stage. 
In  this,  however,  she  could  not  be  gratified  ;  some  accidental 
circumstances  had  occasioned  what  is  called  a  run  upon  the 
road,  and  the  landlord  could  not  accommodate  her  with  a 
guide  and  horses.  After  waiting  some  time  in  hopes  that 
a  pair  of  horses  that  had  gone  southward  would  return  in 
time  for  her  use,  she  at  length,  feeling  ashamed  of  her  own 
pusillanimity,  resolved  to  prosecute  her  journey  in  her  usual 
manner. 

" It  was  all  plain  road,"  she  was  assured,  "except  a  high 
mountain,  called  Gunnerby  Hill,  about  three  miles  from 
Grantham,  which  was  her  stage  for  the  night." 

''I'm  glad  to  hear  there's  a  hill,"  said  Jeanie,  "for  baith 
my  sight  and  my  very  feet  are  weary  o'  sic  tracts  o'  level 
ground  ;  it  looks  a'  the  way  between  this  and  York  as  if  a' 
the  land  had  been  trenched  and  levelled,  whilk  is  very  weari- 
some to  my  Scotch  een.  When  I  lost  sight  of  a  muckle  blue 
hill  they  ca'  Ingleboro',  I  thought  I  liadna  a  friend  left  in 
this  strange  land." 

"  As  for  the  matter  of  that,  young  woman,"  said  mine 
host,  "  and  you  be  so  fond  o'  hill,  I  carena  an  thou  couldst 


2S2  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

carry  Gunnerby  away  with  thee  in  thy  lap,  for  it's  a  murdei 
to  post-horses.  But  here's  to  thy  journey,  and  mayst  thou 
win  well  through  it,  for  thou  is  a  bold  and  a  canny  lass." 

So  saying,  he  took  a  powerful  pull  at  a  solemn  tankard  of 
home-brewed  ale. 

*'  I  hope  there  is  nae  bad  company  on  the  road,  sir  ? " 
said  Jeanie. 

"  Why,  when  it's  clean  without  them  I'll  thatch  Groby 
pool  wi'  pancakes.  But  there  arena  sae  mony  now  ;  and  since 
they  hae  lost  Jim  the  Eat,  they  hold  together  no  better  than 
the  men  of  Marsham  when  they  lost  their  common.  Take  a 
drop  ere  thou  goest,"  he  concluded,  offering  her  the  tankard  ; 
''  thou  wilt  get  uaething  at  night  save  Grantham  gruel,  nine 
grots  and  a  gallon  of  water." 

Jeanie  courteously  declined  the  tankard,  and  inquired 
what  was  her  "lawing." 

"  Thy  lawing  !  Heaven  help  thee,  wench  !  what  ca'st 
thou  that  ?  " 

"  It  is — I  was  wanting  to  ken  what  was  to  pay,"  replied 
Jeanie. 

"Pay  !  Lord  help  thee  !  why,  nought,  woman  ;  we  hae 
drawn  no  liquor  but  a  gill  o'  beer,  and  the  Saracen's  Head 
can  spare  a  mouthful  o'  meat  to  a  stranger  like  o'  thee,  that 
cannot  speak  Christian  language.  So  here's  to  thee  once 
more.  '  The  same  again,  quoth  Mark  of  Bellgrave,' "  and 
he  took  another  profound  pull  at  the  tankard. 

The  travellers  who  have  visited  Newark  m(^re  lately  will 
not  fail  to  remember  the  remarkably  civil  and  gentlemanly 
manners  of  the  person  who  now  keeps  the  principal  inn  there, 
and  may  find  some  amusement  in  contrasting  them  with  those 
of  his  more  rough  predecessor.  But  we  believe  it  will  be  found 
that  the  polish  has  worn  off  none  of  the  real  worth  of  the 
metal. 

Taking  leave  of  her  Lincolnshire  Gains,  Jeanie  resumed 
her  solitary  walk,  and  was  somewhat  alarmed  when  evening 
and  twilight  overtook  her  in  the  open  ground  which  extends 
to  the  foot  of  Gunnerby  Hill,  and  is  intersected  with  patches 
of  copse  and  with  swampy  spots.  The  extensive  commons 
on  the  north  road,  most  of  which  are  now  enclosed,  and  in 
general  a  relaxed  state  of  police,  exposed  the  traveller  to  a 
highway  robbery  in  a  degree  which  is  now  unknown,  excepting 
in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  the  metropolis.  Aware  of  this 
circumstance,  Jeanie  mended  her  pace  when  she  heard  the 
trampling  of  a  horse  behind,  and  instinctively  drew  to  one 
side  of  the  road,  as  if  to  allow  as  much  room  for  the  rider  to 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  288 

pass  as  might  be  possible.  When  the  animal  came  up,  she 
found  that  it  was  bearing  two  women,  the  one  placed  on  a 
side-saddle,  the  other  on  a  pillion  behind  her,  as  may  still 
occasionally  be  seen  in  England. 

"A  braw  gude  night  to  ye,  Jeanie  Deans,"  said  the  fore- 
most female,  as  the  horse  passed  our  heroine.  "  What  think 
ye  o'  yon  bonny  hill  yonder,  lifting  its  brow  to  the  moon  ? 
Trow  ye  yon^s  the  gate  to  Heaven,  that  ye  are  sae  fain  of  ? 
Maybe  we  may  win  there  the  night  yet,  God  sain  us,  though 
our  minnie  here's  rather  dreich  in  the  upgang." 

The  speaker  kept  changing  her  seat  in  the  saddle,  and 
half  stopping  the  horse,  as  she  brought  her  body  round,  while 
the  woman  that  sat  behind  her  on  the  pillion  seemed  to  urge 
her  on,  in  words  which  Jeanie  heard  but  imperfectly. 

"  Hand  your  tongue,  ye  moon-raised  b !  what  is  your 

business  with ,  or  with  Heaven  or  Hell  either  ?  " 

•^^  Troth,  mither,  no  muckle  wi'  Heaven,  I  doubt,  con- 
sidering wha  I  carry  ahint  me  ;  and  as  for  Hell,  it  will  fight 
its  ain  battle  at  its  ain  time,  I'se  be  bound.  Come,  naggie, 
trot  awa',  man,  an  as  thou  wert  a  broomstick,  for  a  witch 
rides  thee — 

With  my  curch  on  my  foot,  and  my  shoe  on  my  hand, 

I  glance  like  the  wildfire  through  brugh  and  through  land." 

The  tramp  of  the  horse,  and  the  increasing  distance, 
drowned  the  rest  of  her  song,  but  Jeanie  heard  for  some  time 
the  inarticulate  sounds  ring  along  the  waste. 

Our  pilgrim  remained  stupefied  with  undefined  apprehen- 
sions. The  being  named  by  her  name  in  so  wild  a  manner, 
and  in  a  strange  country,  without  further  explanation  or 
communing,  by  a  person  who  thus  strangely  flitted  forward 
and  disappeared  before  her,  came  near  to  the  supernatural 
sounds  in  Comus : 

The  airy  tongues,  which  syllable  men's  names 
On  sands,  and  shores,  and  desert  wildernesses. 

And  although  widely  different  in  features,  deportment,  and 
rank  from  the  Lady  of  that  enchanting  masque,  the  contin- 
uation of  the  passage  may  be  happily  applied  to  Jeanie  Deans 
upon  this  singular  alarm  : 

These  thoughts  may  startle  well,  but  not  astound 
The  virtuqus  mind,  that  ever  walks  attended 
By  a  strong  siding  champion — Conscience. 

In  fact,  it  was,  with  the  recollection  of  the  affectionate 


384  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

and  dutiful  errand  on  which  she  was  engaged,  her  right,  if 
such  a  word  could  be  applicable,  to  expect  protection  in  a 
task  so  meritorious.  She  had  not  advanced  much  further, 
with  a  mind  calmed  by  these  reflections,  when  she  was  dis- 
turbed by  a  new  and  more  instant  subject  of  terror.  Two  men 
who  had  been  lurking  among  some  copse  started  up  as  she 
advanced,  and  met  her  on  the  road  in  a  menacing  manner. 
"  Stand  and  deliver,^^  said  one  of  them,  a  short  stout  fellow, 
in  a  smock-frock,  such  as  are  worn  by  wagoners. 

''The  woman,"  said  the  other,  a  tall  thin  figure,  "does 
not  understand  the  words  of  action.  Your  money,  my  pre- 
cious, or  your  life  ! " 

"1  have  but  very  little  money,  gentlemen,"  said  poor 
Jeanie,  tendering  that  portion  which  she  had  separated  from 
her  principal  stock,  and  kept  apart  for  such  an  emergency ; 
*'  but  if  you  are  resolved  to  have  it,  to  be  sure  you  must 
have  it." 

"  This  won't  do,  my  girl.  D — n  me  if  it  shall  pass  ! "  said 
the  shorter  ruffian;  "do  ye  think  gentlemen  are  to  hazard 
their  lives  on  the  road  to  be  cheated  in  this  way  ?  We'll  have 
every  farthing  you  have  got,  or  we  will  strip  you  to  the  skin, 
curse  me." 

His  companion,  who  seemed  to  have  something  like  com- 
passion for  the  horror  which  Jeanie's  countenance  now  ex- 
pressed, said,  "No,  no,  Tom,  this  is  one  of  the  precious  sis- 
ters, and  we'll  take  her  word,  for  once,  without  putting  her 
to  the  stripping  proof.  Hark  ye,  my  lass,  if  you'll  look  up  to 
heaven  and  say  this  is  the  last  penny  you  have  about  ye,  why, 
hang  it,  we'll  let  you  pass." 

"I  am  not  free,"  answered  Jeanie,  "to  say  what  I  have 
about  me,  gentlemen,  for  there's  life  and  death  depends  on 
my  journey ;  but  if  you  leave  me  as  much  as  finds  me  in  bread 
and  water,  I'll  be  satisfied,  and  thank  you,  and  pray  for 
you." 

"D — n  your  prayers  !"  said  the  shorter  fellow  ;  "that's  a 
coin  that  won't  pass  with  us  ; "  and  at  the  same  time  made  a 
motion  to  seize  her. 

"  Stay,  gentlemen,"  RatclifEe's  pass  suddenly  occurring  to 
her;  "  perhaps  you  know  this  paper." 

"  What  the  devil  is  she  after  now,  Frank  ?  "  said  the  more 
savage  ruffian.  "  Do  you  look  at  it,  for  d — n  me  if  I  could 
read  it,  if  it  were  for  the  benefit  of  my  clergy." 

"  This  is  a  jark  from  Jim  Eatcliffe,"  said  the  taller,  having 
looked  at  the  bit  of  paper.  "  The  wench  must  pass  by  our 
cutter's  law." 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  986 

"I  say  no/'  answered  his  companion.  "Rat  has  left  the 
lay,  and  turned  bloodhound,  they  say." 

"  We  may  need  a  good  turn  from  him  all  the  same, "said  the 
taller  ruffian  again. 

"But  what  are  we  to  do  then  ?"  said  the  shorter  man. 
"  "We  promised,  you  know,  to  strip  the  wench  and  send  her 
begging  back  to  her  own  beggarly  country,  and  now  you  are 
for  letting  her  go  on." 

"  I  did  not  say  that,"  said  the  other  fellow,  and  whispered 
to  his  companion,  who  replied,  "  Be  alive  about  it,  then,  and 
don't  keep  chattering  till  some  travellers  come  up  to  nab  us." 

"  You  must  follow  us  off  the  road,  young  woman,"  said  the 
taller. 

"For  the  love  of  God  !"  exclaimed  Jeanie,  "as  you  were 
born  of  woman,  dinna  ask  me  to  leave  the  road  !  rather  take 
all  I  have  in  the  world." 

"  What  the  devil  is  the  wench  afraid  of  ?"  said  the  other 
fellow.  "  I  tell  you  you  shall  come  to  no  harm  ;  but  if  you 
will  not  leave  the  road  and  come  with  us,  d — n  me,  but  I'll 
beat  your  brains  out  where  you  stand." 

"  Thou  art  a  rough  bear,  Tom,"  said  his  companion.  "  An 
ye  touch  her,  I'll  give  ye  a  shake  by  the  collar  shall  make  the 
Leicester  beans  rattle  in  thy  guts.  Never  mind  him,  girl ;  I 
will  not  allow  him  to  lay  a  finger  on  you,  if  you  walk  quietly 
on  with  us ;  but  if  you  keep  jabbering  there,  d — n  me,  but 
I'll  leave  him  to  settle  it  with  you." 

This  threat  conveyed  all  that  is  terrible  to  the  imagination 
of  poor  Jeanie,  who  saw  in  him  that  "was  of  milder  mood" 
her  only  protection  from  the  most  brutal  treatment.  She, 
therefore,  not  only  followed  him,  but  even  held  him  by  the 
sleeve,  lest  he  should  escape  from  her ;  and  the  fellow,  hard- 
ened as  he  was,  seemed  something  touched  by  these  marks  of 
confidence,  and  repeatedly  assured  her  that  he  would  suffer  her 
to  receive  no  harm. 

They  conducted  their  prisoner  in  a  direction  leading  more 
and  more  from  the  public  road,  but  she  observed  that  they 
kept  a  sort  of  track  or  by-path,  which  relieved  her  from  part 
of  her  apprehensions,  which  would  have  been  greatly  increased 
had  they  not  seemed  to  follow  a  determined  and  ascertained 
route.  After  about  half  an  hour's  walking,  all  three  in  pro- 
found silence,  they  approached  an  old  barn,  which  stood  on 
the  edge  of  some  cultivated  ground,  but  remote  from  every- 
thing like  an  habitation.  It  was  itself,  however,  tenanted,  for 
there  was  light  in  the  windows. 

One  of  the  footpads  scratched  at  the  door,  which  was 


286  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

opened  by  a  female,  and  they  entered  with  their  nnhappy 
prisoner.  An  old  woman,  who  was  preparing  food  by  the  as- 
sistance of  a  stifling  fire  of  lighted  charcoal,  asked  them,  in 
the  name  of  the  devil,  what  they  brought  the  wench  there  for, 
and  why  they  did  not  strip  her  and  turn  her  abroad  on  the 
common. 

''Come,  come.  Mother  Blood,"  said  the  tall  man,  "we'll 
do  what's  right  to  oblige  you,  and  we'll  do  no  more ;  we  are 
bad  enough,  bnt  not  such  as  you  would  make  us — devils  incar- 
nate." 

"  She  has  got  a  jark  from  Jim  Ratcliffe,"  said  the  short 
fellow,  "  and  Frank  here  won't  hear  of  our  putting  her  through 
the  mill." 

"No,  that  will  I  not,  by  G— d  !"  answered  Frank  ;  "but 
if  old  Mother  Blood  could  keep  her  here  for  a  little  while,  or 
send  her  back  to  Scotland,  without  hurting  her,  why,  I  see  no 
harm  in  that,  not  I." 

"  I'll  tell  you  what,  Frank  Levitt,"  said  the  old  woman, 
"if  you  call  me  Mother  Blood  again,  I'll  paint  this  gulley 
[and  she  held  a  knife  up  as  if  about  to  make  good  her  threat] 
in  the  best  blood  in  your  body,  my  bonny  boy." 

"  The  price  of  ointment  must  be  up  in  the  north,"  said 
Frank;,  "that  puts  Mother  Blood  so  much  out  of  humor." 

Without  a  moment's  hesitation  the  fury  darted  her  knife 
at  him  with  tiie  vengeful  dexterity  of  a  wild  Indian.  As  he 
was  on  his  guard,  he  avoided  the  missile  by  a  sudden  motion 
^f  his  head,  but  it  whistled  past  his  ear  and  stuck  deep  in  the 
-ilay  wall  of  a  partition  behind. 

"  Come,  come,  mother,"  said  the  robber,  seizing  her  by 
both  wrists,  "  I  shall  teach  you  who's  master ; "  and  so  saying, 
he  forced  the  hag  backwards  by  main  force,  who  strove  vehe- 
mently until  she  sunk  on  a  bunch  of  straw,  and  then  letting 
go  her  hands,  he  held  up  his  finger  towards  her  in  the  men- 
acing posture  by  which  a  maniac  is  intimidated  by  his  keeper. 
It  appeared  to  produce  the  desired  effect ;  for  she  did  not  at- 
tempt to  rise  from  the  seat  on  which  he  had  placed  her,  or  to 
resume  any  measures  of  actual  violence,  but  wrung  her 
withered  hands  with  impotent  rage,  and  brayed  and  howled 
(ike  a  demoniac. 

"  I  will  keep  my  promise  with  you,  you  old  devil,"  said 
Frank ;  "  the  wench  shall  not  go  forward  on  the  London  road, 
but  I  will  not  have  you  touch  a  hair  of  her  head,  if  it  were 
but  for  your  insolence." 

This  intimation  seemed  to  compose  in  some  degree  the 
"Vehement  passion  of  the  old  hag ;  and  while  her  exclamations 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  287 

and  howls  sunk  into  a  low,  maundering,  growling  tone  of 
voice,  another  personage  was  added  to  this  singular  party. 

''Eh,  Frank  Levitt,"  said  this  new-comer,  who  entered 
with  a  hop,  step,  and  jump,  which  at  once  conveyed  her  from 
the  door  into  the  centre  of  the  party,  "were  ye  killing  our 
mother  ?  or  were  ye  cutting  the  grunter's  weasand  that  Tarn 
brought  in  this  morning  ?  or  have  ye  been  reading  your 
prayers  backward,  to  bring  up  my  auld  acquaintance  the  deil 
amang  ye  ?  " 

The  tone  of  the  speaker  was  so  particular  that  Jeanie  im- 
mediately recognized  the  woman  who  had  rode  foremost  of 
the  pair  which  passed  her  just  before  she  met  the  robbers  ;  a 
circumstance  which  greatly  increased  her  terror,  as  it  served 
to  show  that  the  mischief  designed  against  her  was  premedi- 
tated, though  by  whom,  or  for  what  cause,  she  was  totally  at 
a  loss  to  conjecture.  From  the  style  of  her  conversation,  the 
reader  also  may  probably  acknowledge  in  this  female  an  old 
acquaintance  in  the  earlier  part  of  our  narrative. 

"  Out,  ye  mad  devil ! "  said  Tom,  whom  she  had  disturbed 
in  the  middle  of  a  draught  of  some  liquor  with  which  he  had 
found  means  of  accommodating  himself  ;  ''betwixt  your 
Bess  of  Bedlam  pranks  and  your  dam's  frenzies  a  man  might 
live  quieter  in  the  devil's  den  than  here."  And  he  again  re- 
sumed the  broken  jug  out  of  which  he  had  been  drinking. 

"  And  what's  this  o't  ?  "  said  the  madwoman,  dancing  up 
to  Jeanie  Deans,  who,  although  in  great  terror,  yet  watched 
the  scene  with  a  resolution  to  let  nothing  pass  unnoticed  which 
might  be  serviceable  in  assisting  her  to  escape,  or  informing  her 
as  to  the  true  nature  of  her  situation,  and  the  danger  attend- 
ing it.  "  What's  this  o't  ?  "  again  exclaimed  Madge  Wildfire. 
"  Douce  Davie  Deans,  the  auld  doited  Whig  body's  daughter 
in  a  gypsy's  barn,  and  the  night  setting  in  ;  this  is  a  sight  for 
sair  een  !  Eh,  sirs,  the  falling  off  o'  the  godly  !  And  the 
t'other  sister's  in  the  tolbooth  at  Edinburgh  !  I  am  very  sorry 
for  her,  for  my  share  ;  it's  my  mother  wusses  ill  to  her,  and 
no  me,  though  maybe  I  hae  as  muckle  cause." 

"Hark  ye,  Madge,"  said  the  taller  ruffian,  "you  have  not 
such  a  touch  of  the  devil's  blood  as  the  hag  your  mother,  who 
may  be  his  dam  for  what  I  know  ;  take  this  young  woman  to 
your  kennel,  and  do  not  let  the  devil  enter,  though  he  should 
ask  in  God's  name." 

"  Ou  ay,  that  I  will,  Frank,"  said  Madge,  taking  hold  of 
Jeanie  by  the  arm,  and  pulling  her  along  ;  "  for  it's  no  for 
decent  Christian  young  leddies,  like  her  and  me,  to  be  keep- 
ing the  like  o'  you  and  Tyburn  Tam  company  at  this  time  o' 


288  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

night.  Sae  gude  e'en  t'ye,  sirs,  and  mony  o'them  ;  and  may 
ye  a'  sleep  till  the  hangman  wauken  ye,  and  then  it  will  be 
weel  for  the  country." 

She  then,  as  her  wild  fancy  seemed  suddenly  to  prompt 
her,  walked  demurely  towards  her  mother,  who,  seated  by  the 
charcoal  fire,  with  the  reflection  of  the  red  light  on  her  withered 
and  distorted  features,  marked  by  every  evil  passion,  seemed 
the  very  picture  of  Hecate  at  her  infernal  rites  ;  and  sud- 
denly dropping  on  her  knees,  said,  with  the  manner  of  a  six- 
years-old  ciiild,  ''  Mammie,  hear  me  say  my  prayers  before  I 
go  to  bed,  and  say  God  bless  my  bonny  face,  as  ye  used  to  do 
lang  syne." 

"The  deil  flay  the  hide  o'  it  to  sole  his  brogues wi'  I"  said 
the  old  lady,  aiming  a  buifet  at  the  supplicant  in  answer  to 
her  duteous  request. 

The  blow  missed  Madge,  who,  being  probably  acquainted 
by  experience  with  the  mode  in  which  her  mother  was  wont  to 
confer  her  maternal  benedictions,  slipped  out  of  arm's-length 
with  great  dexterity  and  quickness.  The  hag  then  started  up, 
and,  seizing  a  pair  of  old  fire-tongs,  world  have  amended  her 
motion  by  beating  out  the  brains  either  of  her  daughter  or 
Jeanie,  she  did  not  seem  greatly  to  care  which,  when  her  hand 
was  once  more  arrested  by  the  man  whom  they  called  Frank 
Levitt,  who,  seizing  her  by  the  shoulder,  flung  her  from  him 
with  great  violence,  exclaiming,  "  "What,  Mother  Damnable, 
again,  and  in  my  sovereign  presence  ?  Hark  ye,  Madge  of 
Bedlam,  get  to  your  hole  with  your  playfellow,  or  we  shall 
have  the  devil  to  pay  here,  and  nothing  to  pay  him  with." 

Madge  took  Levitt's  advice,  retreating  as  fast  as  she 
could,  and  dragging  Jeanie  along  with  her,  into  a  sort  of  re- 
cess, partitioned  off  from  the  rest  of  the  barn,  and  filled  with 
straw,  from  which  it  appeared  that  it  was  intended  for  the 
purpose  of  slumber.  The  moonlight  shone  through  an  open 
hole  upon  a  pillion,  a  pack-saddle,  and  one  or  two  wallets, 
the  travelling  furniture  of  Madge  and  her  amiable  mother. 
"  Now,  saw  ye  e'er  in  your  life,"  said  Madge,  "sae  dainty  a 
chamber  of  deas  ?  See  as  the  moon  shines  down  sae  caller 
on  the  fresh  Jtrae  !  There's  no  a  pleasanter  cell  in  Bedlam, 
for  as  braw  a  place  as  it  is  on  the  outside.  Were  ye  ever  in 
Bedlam  ?  " 

"No,"  answered  Jeanie,  faintly,  appalled  by  the  question 
and  the  way  in  which  it  was  put,  yet  willing  to  soothe  her 
insane  companion  ;  being  in  circumstances  so  unhappily  pre- 
carious that  even  the  society  of  this  gibbering  madwoman 
seemed  a  species  of  protection. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  281> 

"  Neyer  in  Bedlam  ! "  said  Madge,  as  if  with  some  sur- 
prise.    "  But  ye'll  hae  been  in  the  cells  at  Edinburgh  ?  " 

"  Never,"  repeated  Jeanie. 

"  "Weel,  I  think  thae  daft  carles  the  magistrates  send  nae- 
body  to  Bedlam  but  me  ;  they  maun  hae  an  unco  respect  for 
me,  for  whenever  I  am  brought  to  them  they  aye  hae  me  back 
to  Bedlam.  But  troth,  Jeanie  [she  said  this  in  a  very  confi- 
dential tone],  to  tell  ye  my  private  mind  about  it,  I  think  ye 
are  at  nae  great  loss  ;  for  the  keeper's  across  patch,  and  he 
maun  hae  it  a'  his  ain  gate,  to  be  sure,  or  he  makes  the  place 
waur  than  hell.  I  often  tell  him  he's  the  daftest  in  a'  the 
house.  But  what  are  they  making  sic  a  skirling  for  ?  Deil 
ane  o'  them's  get  in  here  ;  it  wadna  be  mensefu'  !  I  will  sit 
wi'my  back  again  the  door  ;  it  winnabe  that  easy  stirring  me." 

"  Madge  ! "—"  Madge  ! "—"  Madge  Wildfire  ! "—"  Madge 
devil!  what  have  ye  done  with  the  horse?"  was  repeatedly 
asked  by  the  men  without. 

''He's  e'en  at  his  supper,  puir  thing," answered  Madge; 
''deil  an  ye  were  at  yours  too,  an  it  werescauding  brimstane, 
and  then  we  wad  hae  less  o'  your  din." 

"  His  supper  !  "  answered  the  more  sulky  ruffian.  "  What 
d*ye  mean  by  that  ?  Tell  me  where  he  is,  or  I  will  knock 
your  Bedlam  brains  out ! " 

"He's  in  Gaffer  Gabblewood's  wheat-close,  an  ye  maun 
ken." 

"  His  wheat-close,  you  crazed  jilt !  "  answered  the  other, 
with  an  accent  of  great  indignation. 

"  0,  dear  Tyburn  Tam,  man,  what  ill  will  the  blades  of 
the  young  wheat  do  to  the  puir  naig  ?  " 

"  That  is  not  the  question,"  said  the  other  robber  ;  "but 
what  the  country  will  say  to  us  to-morrow  when  they  see  him 
in  such  quarters.  Go,  Tom,  and  bring  him  in ;  and  avoid 
the  soft  ground,  my  lad  ;  leave  no  hoof-track  behind  you." 

"  I  think  you  give  me  always  the  fag  of  it,  whatever  is  to 
be  done,"  grumbled  his  companion. 

" '  Leap,  Laurence,  you're  long  enough,'"  said  the  other  ; 
and  the  fellow  left  the  barn  accordingly,  without  further  re- 
monstrance. 

In  the  meanwhile,  Madge  had  arranged  herself  for  repose 
on  the  straw  ;  but  still  in  a  half-sitting  posture,  with  her  back 
resting  against  the  door  of  the  hovel,  which,  as  it  opened  in- 
wards, was  in  this  manner  kept  shut  by  the  weight  of  her 
person. 

"  There's  mair  shifts  bye  stealing,  Jeanie,"  said  Madge 
Wildfire ;  "  though  whiles  I  can  hardlv  get  our  mother  to 


390  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

think  sae.  Wha  wad  hae  thought  but  my^ell  of  making  a 
bolt  of  my  ain  backbane  ?  But  it's  no  sae  strong  as  thae  that 
I  hae  seen  in  the  tolbooth  at  Edinburgh.  The  hammermen 
of  Edinburgh  are  to  my  mind  afore  the  world  for  making 
stanchions,  ring-bolts,  fetter-bolts,  bars,  and  locks.  And  they 
arena  that  bad  at  girdles  for  carcakes  neither,  though  the 
Cu^ross  hammermen  have  the  gree  for  that.  My  mother  had 
ance  a  bonny  Cu'ross  girdle,  and  I  thought  to  have  baked 
car-cakes  on  it  for  my  puir  wean  that's  dead  and  gane  nae  fair 
way  ;  but  we  maun  a' dee,  ye  ken,  Jeanie.  You  Cameronian 
bodies  ken  that  brawly ;  and  ye're  for  making  a  hell  upon 
earth  that  ye  may  be  less  unwillin'  to  part  wi'  it.  But  as 
touching  Bedlam,  that  ye  were  speaking  about,  I'se  ne'er  rec- 
ommend it  muckle  the  tae  gate  or  the  tother,  be  it  right,  be 
it  wrang.  But  ye  ken  what  the  sang  says  ?  "  And,  pursuing 
the  unconnected  and  floating  wanderings  of  her  mind,  she 
sung  aloud — 

"  In  the  bonny  cells  of  Bedlam, 

Ere  I  was  ane-and- twenty, 
I  had  hempen  bracelets  strong. 
And  merry  w^hips,  ding-dong, 

And  prayer  and  fasting  plenty. 

Weel,  Jeanie,  I  am  something  herse  the  night,  and  I  canna 
sing  muckle  mair ;  and  troth,  I  think  I  am  gaun  to  sleep." 

She  drooped  her  head  on  her  breast,  a  posture  from  which 
Jeanie,  who  would  have  given  the  world  for  an  opportunity 
of  quiet  to  consider  the  means  and  the  probability  of  her  es- 
cape, was  very  careful  not  to  disturb  her.  After  nodding, 
however,  for  a  minute  or  two,  with  her  eyes  half  closed,  the 
unquiet  and  restless  spirit  of  her  malady  again  assailed  Madge. 
She  raised  her  head  and  spoke,  but  with  a  lowered  tone,  which 
was  again  gradually  overcome  by  drowsiness,  to  which  the 
fatigue  of  a  day's  Journey  on  horseback  had  probably  given 
unwonted  occasion — "  I  dinna  ken  what  makes  me  sae  sleepy; 
I  amaist  never  sleep  till  my  bonny  Lady  Moon  gangs  till  her 
bed,  mair  by  token  when  she's  at  the  full,  ye  ken,  rowing 
aboon  us  yonder  in  her  grand  silver  coach.  I  have  danced  to 
her  my  lane  sometimes  for  very  joy,  and  whiles  dead  folk  came 
and  danced  wi'  me,  the  like  o'  Jock  Porteous,  or  onybody  I 
had  kenn'd  when  I  was  living  ;  for  ye  maun  ken  I  was  ance 
dead  mysell."  Here  the  poor  maniac  sung  in  a  low  and  wild 
tone — 

•*  My  banes  are  buried  in  yon  kirkyard 

Sae  far  ayont  the  sea, 
And  it  is  but  my  blithesome  ghaist 

That's  speaking  now  to  thee. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  391 

Bnt,  after  a*,  Jeanie,  my  woman,  naebody  kens  weel  wha's 
living  and  wha's  dead — or  wha's  gane  to  Fairyland,  there's 
another  question.  Whiles  I  think  my  puir  bairn's  dead  ;  ye 
ken  very  weel  it's  buried,  but  that  signifies  naething.  I  have 
had  it  on  my  knee  a  hundred  times,  and  a  hundred  till  that, 
since  it  was  buried  ;  and  how  could  that  be  were  it  dead,  ye 
ken  ?  It's  merely  impossible."  And  here,  some  conviction 
half  overcoming  the  reveries  of  her  imagination,  she  burst 
into  a  fit  of  crying  and  ejaculation,  "Wae's  me  !  wae's  me  ! 
wae's  me  ! "  till  at  length  she  moaned  and  sobbed  herself  into 
a  deep  sleep,  which  was  soon  intimated  by  her  breathing 
hard,  leaving  Jeanie  to  her  own  melancholy  reflections  and 
observations. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

Bind  her  quickly  ;  or,  by  this  steel, 
I'll  tell,  although  I  truss  for  company. 

Fletcher. 

The  imperfect  light  which  shone  into  the  window  enabled 
Jeanie  to  see  that  there  was  scarcely  any  chance  of  making 
her  escape  in  that  direction  ;  for  the  aperture  was  high  in  the 
wall,  and  so  narrow  that,  could  she  have  climbed  up  to  it,  she 
might  well  doubt  w' other  it  would  have  permitted  her  to 
pass  her  body  through  it.  An  unsuccessful  attempt  to  escape 
would  be  sure  to  draw  down  worse  treatment  than  she  now 
received,  and  she  therefore  resolved  to  watch  her  opportunity 
carefully  ere  making  such  a  perilous  effort.  For  this  pur- 
pose she  applied  herself  to  the  ruinous  clay  partition  which 
divided  the  hovel  in  which  she  now  was  from  the  rest  of  the 
waste  barn.  It  was  decayed,  and  full  of  cracks  and  chinks, 
one  of  wliich  she  enlarged  with  her  fingers,  cautiously  and 
without  noise,  until  she  could  obtain  a  plain  view  of  the  old 
hag  and  the  taller  ruffian,  whom  they  called  Levitt,  seated 
together  beside  the  decayed  fire  of  charcoal,  and  apparently 
engaged  in  close  conference.  She  was  at  first  terrified  by  the 
sight,  for  the  features  of  th'^;  old  woman  had  a  hideous  cast 
of  hardened  and  inveterate  malice  and  ill-humor,  and  those 
of  the  man,  though  naturally  less  unfavorable,  were  such  as 
corresponded  well  with  licentious  habits  and  a  lawless  pro- 
fession. 

''But  I  remembered,^'  said  Jeanie,  "my  worthy  father's 
tales  of  a  winter  evening,  how  he  was  confined  with  the 
blessed  martyr,  Mr.  James  Ren  wick,  who  lifted  up  the  fallen 
standard  of  the  true  reformed  Kirk  of  Scotland,  after  the 
worthy  and  renowned  Daniel  [Richard]  Cameron,  our  last 
blessed  bannerman,  had  fallen  among  the  swords  of  the 
wicked  at  Aird's  Moss,  and  how  the  very  hearts  of  the  wicked 
malefactors  and  murderers  whom  they  were  confined  withal 
were  melted  like  wax  at  the  sound  of  their  doctrine,  and  I 
bethought  mysell,  that  the  same  help  that  was  wi'  them  in 
their  strait,  wad  be  wi'  me  in  mine,  an  I  could  but  watch  the 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  398 

Lord's  time  and  opportunity  for  delivering  my  feet  from  tlieir 
snare  ;  and  I  minded  the  Scripture  of  the  blessed  Psalmist, 
whilk  he  insistetli  on,  as  weel  in  the  forty-second  as  in  the 
forty-third  psalm,  '  Why  art  thou  cast  down,  0  my  soul,  and 
why  art  thou  disquieted  within  me  ?  Hope  in  God,  for  I 
shall  yet  praise  him,  who  is  the  health  of  my  countenance, 
and  my  God.'" 

Strengthened  in  a  mind  naturally  calm,  sedate,  and  firm, 
by  the  influence  of  religious  confidence,  this  poor  captive  was 
enabled  to  attend  to,  and  comprehend,  a  great  part  of  an  in- 
teresting conversation  which  passed  betwixt  those  into  whose 
hands  she  had  fallen,  notwithstanding  that  their  meaning  was 
partly  disguised  by  the  occasional  use  of  cant  terms,  of  which 
Jeanie  knew  not  the  import,  by  the  low  tone  in  which  they 
spoke,  and  by  their  mode  of  supplying  their  broken  phrases 
by  shrugs  and  signs,  as  is  usual  among  those  of  their  disor- 
derly profession. 

Tlie  man  opened  the  conversation  by  saying,  "  Now,  dame, 
you  see  I  am  true  to  my  friend.  I  have  not  forgot  that  you 
planked  a  chury  which  helped  me  through  the  bars  of  the 
Castle  of  York,  and  I  came  to  do  your  work  without  asking 
questions,  for  one  good  turn  deserves  another.  But  now  that 
Madge,  who  is  as  loud  as  Tom  of  Lincoln,  is  somewhat  still, 
and  this  same  Tyburn  Neddie  is  shaking  his  heels  after  the 
old  nag,  why,  you  must  tell  me  what  all  this  is  about,  and 
what's  to  be  done  ;  for  d — n  me  if  I  touch  the  girl,  or  let  her 
be  touched,  and  she  with  Jim  Rat's  pass  too." 

"Thou  art  an  honest  lad,  Frank,"  answered  the  old  wom- 
an, "'but  e'en  too  kind  for  thy  trade  ;  thy  tender  heart  will 
get  thee  into  trouble.  I  will  see  ye  gang  up  Holborn  Hill 
backward,  and  a'  on  the  word  of  some  silly  loon  that  could 
never  hae  rapped  to  ye  had  ye  drawn  your  knife  across  his 
weasand." 

"  You  may  be  balked  there,  old  one,"  answered  the  rob- 
ber ;  "  I  have  known  many  a  pretty  lad  cut  short  in  his  first 
summer  upon  the  road,  because  he  was  something  hasty  with 
his  flats  and  sharps.  Besides,  a  man  would  fain  live  out  his 
two  years  with  a  good  conscience.  So,  tell  me  what  all  this 
is  about,  and  what's  to  be  done  for  you  that  one  can  do  de- 
cently?" 

"  Why,  you  must  know,  Frank — but  first  taste  a  snap  of 
right  Hollands."  She  drew  a  flask  from  her  pocket,  and 
filled  the  fellow  a  large  bumper,  which  he  pronounced  to  be 
the  right  thing.  "You  must  know,  then,  Frank — wunua  ye 
mend  your  hand  ?  "  again  offering  the  flask. 


294  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

*'  No,  no ;  when  a  woman  wants  mischief  from  you,  she 
always  begins  by  filling  you  drunk.  D — n  all  Dutch  cour- 
age. What  I  do  I  will  do  soberly.  I'll  last  the  longer  for 
that  too." 

"  Well,  then,  you  must  know,"  resumed  the  old  woman, 
without  any  further  attempts  at  propitiation,  "  that  this  girl 
is  going  to  London," 

Here  Jeanie  could  only  distinguish  the  word  ''  sister." 

The  robber  answered  in  a  louder  tone,  "  Fair  enough  that ; 
and  what  the  devil  is  your  business  with  it  ?  " 

"  Business  enough,   I   think.     If  the  b queers  the 

noose,  that  silly  cull  will  marry  her." 

"  And  who  cares  if  he  does  ?"  said  the  man. 

"  Who  cares,  ye  donnard  Neddie  ?  /  care  ;  and  I  will 
strangle  her  with  my  own  hands  rather  than  she  should  come 
to  Madge's  preferment." 

''  Madge's  preferment  !  Does  your  old  blind  eyes  see  no 
further  than  that  ?  If  he  is  as  you  say,  d'ye  think  he'll  ever 
marry  a  moon-calf  like  Madge  ?  Ecod,  that's  a  good  one. 
Marry  Madge  Wildfire  !  ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  " 

"  Hark  ye,  ye  crack-rope  padder,  born  beggar,  and  bred 
thief  ! "  replied  the  hag ;  "  suppose  he  never  marries  the 
wench,  is  that  a  reason  he  should  marry  another,  and  that 
other  to  hold  my  daughter's  place,  and  she  crazed,  and  I  a 
beggar,  and  all  along  of  him  ?  But  I  know  that  of  him  will 
hang  him — I  know  that  of  him  will  hang  him,  if  he  had  a 
thousand  lives — I  know  that  of  him  will  hang — hang — hang 
him  ! " 

She  grinned  as  she  repeated  and  dwelt  upon  the  fatal  mon- 
osyllable with  the  emphasis  of  a  vindictive  fiend. 

"Then  why  don't  you  hang — hang — hang  him? "said 
Frank,  repeating  her  words  contemptuously.  "  There  would 
be  more  sense  in  that,  tlian  in  wreaking  yourself  here  upon 
two  wenches  that  have  done  you  and  your  daughter  no  ill." 

'*'  No  ill  !"  answered  the  old  woman  ;  "  and  he  to  marry 
this  jail-bird,  if  ever  she  gets  her  foot  loose  ! " 

"■  But  as  there  is  no  chance  of  his  marrying  a  bird  of  your 
brood,  I  cannot,  for  my  soul,  see  what  you  have  to  do  with 
all  this,"  again  reialied  the  robber,  shrugging  his  shoulders. 
"  Where  there  is  aught  to  be  got,  I'll  go  as  far  as  my  neigh- 
bors, but  I  hate  mischief  for  mischief's  sake." 

"  And  would  you  go  nae  length  for  revenge  ?"  said  the 
hag — ''for  revenge,  the  sweetest  morsel  to  the  mouth  that 
ever  was  cooked  in  hell ! " 

"The  devil  may  keep  it  for  his  own  eating,  then,"  said 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  295 

the  robber;  ''for  hang  me  if  I  like  tlie  sauce  he  dresses  it 
with." 

''  Revenge  !  "  continued  the  old  woman  ;  "  why,  it  is  the 
best  reward  the  devil  gives  us  for  our  time  here  and  hereafter. 
I  have  wrought  hard  for  it,  I  have  suffered  for  it,  and  I  have 
sinned  for  it,  and  I  will  have  it — or  there  is  neither  justice  in 
Heaven  nor  in  Hell !  " 

Levitt  had  by  this  time  lighted  a  pipe,  and  was  listening 
with  great  composure  to  the  frantic  and  vindictive  ravings  of 
the  old  hag.  He  was  too  much  hardened  by  his  course  of  life 
to  be  shocked  with  them  ;  too  indifferent,  and  probably  too 
stupid,  to  catch  any  part  of  their  animation  or  energy.  ""But, 
mother,"  he  said,  after  a  pause,  "still  I  say,  that  if  revenge  is 
your  wish,  you  should  take  it  on  the  young  fellow  himself." 

"  I  wish  I  could,"  she  said^  drawing  in  her  breath,  with 
the  eagerness  of  a  thirsty  person  while  mimicking  the  action 
of  drinking — "I  wish  I  could  !  but  no,  I  cannot — I  cannot." 

"  And  why  not  ?  You  would  think  little  of  peaching  and 
hanging  him  for  this  Scotch  affair.  Eat  me,  one  might  have 
milled  the  Bank  of  England,  and  less  noise  about  it." 

"  I  have  nursed  him  at  this  withered  breast,"  answered  the 
old  woman,  folding  her  hands  on  her  bosom,  as  if  pressing  an 
infant  to  it,  "  and  though  he  has  proved  an  adder  to  me,  though 
he  has  been  the  destruction  of  me  and  mine,  though  he  has 
made  me  company  for  the  devil,  if  there  be  a  devil,  and  food 
for  hell,  if  there  be  such  a  place,  yet  I  cannot  take  his  life. 
No,  I  cannot,"  she  continued,  with  an  appearance  of  rage 
against  herself ;  "  I  have  thought  of  it,  I  have  tried  it,  but, 
Francis  Levitt,  I  canna  gang  through  wi^t !  Na,  na,  he  was 
the  first  bairn  I  ever  nurst ;  ill  I  had  been — but  man  can  never 
ken  what  woman  feels  for  the  bairn  she  has  held  first  to  her 
bosom  ! " 

"  To  be  sure,"  said  Levitt,  "  we  have  no  experience.  But, 
mother,  they  say  you  hadn't  been  so  kind  to  other  bairns,  as 
you  call  them,  that  have  come  in  your  way.  Nay,  d — n  me, 
never  lay  your  hand  on  the  whittle,  for  I  am  captain  and  leader 
here,  and  I  will  have  no  rebellion." 

The  hag,  whose  first  motion  had  been,  upon  hearing  the 
question,  to  grasp  the  haft  of  a  large  knife,  now  unclosed  her 
hand,  stole  it  away  from  the  weapon,  and  suffered  it  to  fall  by 
her  side,  while  she  proceeded  with  a  sort  of  smile — "Bairns  ! 
ye  are  joking,  lad,  wha  wad  touch  bairns  ?  Madge,  puir  thing, 

had  a  misfortune  wi'  ane  ;  and  the  totlier "  Here  her  voice 

sunk  so  much  that  Jeanie,  though  anxiously  upon  the  watch, 
could  not  catch  a  word  she  said,  until  she  raised  her  tone  at 


298  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

the  conclusion  of  the  sentence — "So  Madge,  in  her  daffin', 
threw  it  into  the  Nor'  Loch,  I  trow." 

Madge,  whose  slumbers,  like  those  of  most  who  labor  under 
mental  malady,  had  been  short,  and  were  easily  broken,  now 
made  herself  heard  from  her  place  of  repose. 

"  Indeed,  mother,  that's  a  great  lee,  for  I  did  nae  sic  thing.  ^* 

"  Hush,  thou  hellicat  devil,"  said  her  mother.  "  By 
Heaven  !  the  other  wench  will  be  waking  too  ! " 

"  That  may  be  dangerous,"  said  Frank  ;  and  he  rose  and 
followed  Meg  Murdockson  across  the  floor. 

"Rise,"  said  the  hag  to  her  daughter,  "  or  I  sail  drive  the 
■inife  between  the  planks  into  the  Bedlam  back  of  thee  ! " 

Apparently  she  at  the  same  time  seconded  her  threat,  by 
pricking  her  with  the  point  of  a  knife,  for  Madge,  with  a  faint 
!cream,  changed  her  place,  and  the  door  opened. 

Tiie  old  woman  held  a  candle  in  one  hand  and  a  knife  in 
the  other.  Levitt  appeared  behind  her  ;  whether  with  a  view 
of  preventing  or  assisting  her  in  any  violence  she  might  medi- 
tate could  not  be  well  guessed.  Jeanie's  presence  of  mind 
stood  her  friend  in  this  dreadful  crisis.  She  had  resolution 
enough  to  maintain  the  attitude  and  manner  of  one  who  sleeps 
profoundly,  and  to  regulate  even  her  breathing,  notwithstand- 
ing the  agitation  of  instant  terror,  so  as  to  correspond  with  her 
attitude. 

Tiie  old  woman  passed  the  light  across  her  eyes  ;  and,  al- 
though Jeanie's  fears  were  so  powerfully  awakened  by  this 
movement,  that  she  often  declared  afterwards  that  she  thought 
she  saw  the  figures  of  her  destined  murderers  through  her 
closed  eyelids,  she  had  still  the  resolution  to  maintain  the  feint 
on  wliicli  her  safety  perhaps  depended. 

Levitt  looked  at  her  with  fixed  attention  ;  he  then  turned 
the  old  woman  out  of  the  place,  and  followed  her  himself. 
Having  regained  the  outer  apartment,  and  seated  themselves, 
Jeanie  heard  the  highwayman  say,  to  her  no  small  relief, 
"  She's  as  fast  as  if  she  were  in  Bedfordshire.  Now,  old  Meg, 
d — n  me  if  I  can  understand  a  glim  of  this  story  of  yours,  or 
what  good  it  will  do  you  to  hang  the  one  wench  and  torment 
the  other  ;  but,  rat  me,  I  will  be  true  to  my  friend,  and  serve 
ye  the  way  ye  like  it.  I  see  it  will  be  a  bad  job  ;  but  I  do  think 
I  could  get  her  down  to  Surfleet  on  the  Wash,  and  so  on  board 
Tom  Moonshine's  neat  lugger,  and  keep  her  out  of  the  way 
three  or  four  weeks,  if  that  will  please  ye.  But  d — n  me  if  any 
one  shall  harm  her,  unless  they  have  a  mind  to  choke  on  a 
brace  of  blue  plums.  It's  a  cruel  bad  job,  and  I  wish  yon  and 
it,  Meg,  were  both  at  the  devil." 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  297 

"  Kever  mind,  hinny  Levitt/*  said  the  old  woman  ;  ''  yon 
are  a  ruffler,  and  will  have  a'  your  ain  gate.  She  slianna  gang 
to  Heaven  an  hour  sooner  for  me  ;  I  carena  whether  she  live 
or  die  :  it's  her  sister — uy,  her  sister  !  " 

"  Well,  we'll  say  no  more  about  it,  I  hear  Tom  coming  in. 
We'll  couch  a  hogshead,  and  so  better  had  you." 

They  retired  to  repose,  accordingly,  and  all  was  silent  in 
this  asylum  of  iniquity. 

Jeanie  lay  for  a  long  time  awake.  At  break  of  day  she 
heard  the  two  ruffians  leave  the  barn,  after  whispering  with  the 
old  woman  for  some  time.  The  sense  that  she  was  now  guard- 
ed only  by  persons  of  her  own  sex  gave  her  some  confidence, 
and  irresistible  lassitude  at  length  threw  her  into  slumber. 

When  the  captive  awakened,  the  sun  was  high  in  heaven, 
and  the  morning  considerably  advanced.  Madge  Wildfire  was 
still  in  the  hovel  which  had  served  them  for  the  night,  and 
immediately  bid  her  good  morning,  with  her  nsnal  air  of  in- 
sane glee.  "  And  d'ye  ken,  lass,"  said  Madge,  "  there's  queer 
things  chanced  since  ye  hae  been  in  the  land  of  Nod.  The  con- 
stables liae  been  here,  woman,  and  they  metwi'  my  minnieat 
the  door,  and  they  whirl'd  her  awa'  to  the  Justice's  about  the 
man's  wheat.  Dear  !  thae  English  churls  think  as  muckle 
about  a  blade  of  M^heat  or  grass  as  a  Scots  laird  does  about  his 
maukinsand  his  muir-poots.  ISIow,  lass,  if  ye  like,  we'll  play 
them  a  fine  jink  :  we  will  awa'  out  and  take  a  walk  ;  they  will 
make  unco  wark  when  they  miss  us,  but  we  can  easily  be  back 
by  dinner  time,  or  before  dark  night  at  ony  rate,  and  it  will 
be  some  frolic  and  fresh  air.  But  maybe  ye  wad  like  to  take 
some  breakfast,  and  then  lie  down  again  ?  I  ken  by  mysell 
there's  whiles  I  can  sit  wi'  my  head  on  my  hand  the  haillday, 
and  havena  a  word  to  cast  at  a  dog,  and  other  whiles  that  1 
canna  sit  still  a  moment.  That's  when  the  folk  think  me 
warst  ;  but  I  am  aye  canny  eneugh — ye  needna  be  feared  to 
walk  wi'  me." 

Had  Madge  Wildfire  been  the  most  raging  lunatic,  instead 
of  possessing  a  doubtful,  uncertain,  and  twilight  sort  of  ration- 
ality, varying,  probably,  from  the  influence  of  the  most  trivial 
causes,  Jeanie  would  hardly  have  objected  to  leave  a  place  of 
captivity  where  she  had  so  much  to  apprehend.  She  eagerly 
assured  Madge  that  she  had  no  occasion  for  further  sleep,  no 
desire  whatever  for  eating  ;  and  hoping  internally  that  she  was 
not  guilty  of  sin  in  doing  so,  she  flattered  her  keeper's  crazy 
humor  for  walking  in  the  woods. 

"It's  no  a'thegither  for  that  neither,'*  said  poor  Madge; 
''but  I  am  judging  ye  will  wan  the  better  out  o'  thae  folks' 


398  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

hands ;  no  that  they  are  a'tliegither  bad  folk  neither,  but  they 
have  queer  ways  wi'  them,  and  I  whiles  dinna  think  it  has  been 
ever  very  weel  wi'  my  mother  and  me  since  we  kept  sic-like 
company/' 

With  the  haste,  the  joy,  the  fear,  and  the  hope  of  a  liber- 
ated captive,  Jeanie  snatched  up  her  little  bundle,  followed 
Madge  into  the  free  air,  and  eagerly  looked  round  her  for  a 
human  habitation  ;  but  none  was  to  be  seen.  The  ground  was 
partly  cultivated,  and  partly  left  in  its  natural  state,  accord- 
ing as  the  fancy  of  the  slovenly  agriculturists  had  decided. 
In  its  natural  state  it  was  waste,  in  some  places  covered  with 
dwarf  trees  and  bushes,  in  others  swamp,  and  elsewhere  firm 
and  dry  downs  or  pasture-grounds. 

Jeanie's  active  mind  next  led  her  to  conjecture  which  way 
the  high-road  lay,  whence  she  had  been  forced.  If  she  regained 
that  public  road,  she  imagined  she  must  soon  meet  some  per- 
son, or  arrive  at  some  house,  where  she  might  tell  her  story, 
and  request  protection.  But  after  a  glance  around  her,  she 
saw  with  regret  that  she  had  no  means  whatever  of  directing 
her  course  with  any  degree  of  certainty,  and  that  she  was  still 
in  dependence  upon  her  crazy  companion.  "  Shall  we  not 
walk  upon  the  high-road  ?"  said  she  to  Madge,  in  such  atone 
as  a  nurse  uses  to  coax  a  child.  "  It's  brawer  walking  on  the 
road  than  amang  thae  wild  bushes  and  whins." 

Madge,  who  was  walking  very  fast,  stopped  at  this  ques- 
tion, and  looked  at  Jeanie  with  a  sudden  and  scrutinizing 
glance,  that  seemed  to  indicate  complete  acquaintance  with 
her  purpose.  "  Aha,  lass  !  "  she  exclaimed,  "  are  ye  gaun  to 
guide  us  that  gate  ?  Ye'll  be  for  making  your  heels  save 
your  head,  I  am  judging." 

Jeanie  hesitated  for  a  moment,  on  hearing  her  companion 
thus  express  herself,  whether  she  had  not  better  take  the 
hint,  and  try  to  outstrip  and  get  rid  of  her.  But  she  knew 
not  in  which  direction  to  fly  ;  she  was  by  no  means  sure  that 
she  would  prove  the  swiftest,  and  perfectly  conscious  that,  in 
the  event  of  her  being  pursued  and  overtaken,  she  would  be 
inferior  to  the  madwoman  in  strength.  She  therefore  gave 
up  thoughts  for  the  present  of  attempting  to  escape  in  that 
manner,  and,  saying  a  few  words  to  allay  Madge's  suspicions, 
she  folloAved  in  anxious  apprehension  the  wayward  path  by 
which  her  guide  thought  proper  to  lead  her.  Madge,  infirm 
of  purpose,  and  easily  reconciled  to  the  present  scene,  what- 
ever it  was,  began  soon  to  talk  with  her  usual  diffuseness  of 
ideas. 

"  It's  a  dainty  thing  to  be  in  the  woods  on  a  fine  morning 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  5599 

like  this.  I  like  it  far  better  than  the  town,  for  there  isna  a 
wheen  duddy  bairns  to  be  crying  after  ane,  as  if  ane  were  a 
warld's  wonder,  just  because  ane  maybe  is  a  thought  bonnier 
and  better  put-on  than  their  neighbors  ;  tliough,  Jeauie,  ye 
suld  ne\er  be  proud  o'  braw  claiths,  or  beauty  neither  ;  wae's 
me  !  they're  but  a  snare.  I  anes  thought  better  o'  them,  and 
what  came  o't  ?  " 

"Are  ye  sure  ye  ken  the  way  ye  are  taking  us  ?'' said 
Jeanie,  who  began  to  imagine  that  she  was  getting  deeper 
into  tbe  woods,  and  more  remote  from  the  high-road. 

"Do  I  ken  the  road  ?  Wasna  I  mony  a  day  living  here, 
and  what  for  shouldna  I  ken  the  road  ?  I  might  hae  forgot- 
ten, too,  for  it  was  afore  my  accident ;  but  tliere  are  some 
things  ane  can  never  forget,  let  them  try  it  asmuckle  as  they 
like." 

By  this  time  they  had  gained  the  deepest  part  of  a  patch 
of  woodland.  The  trees  were  a  little  separated  from  each 
other,  and  at  the  foot  of  one  of  them,  a  beautiful  poplar,  was 
a  variegated  hillock  of  wild  flowers  and  moss,  such  as  the  poet 
of  Grasmere  has  described  in  his  verses  on  "The  Thorn."  So 
soon  as  she  arrived  at  this  spot,  Madge  Wildfire,  joining  her 
hands  above  her  head,  with  a  loud  scream  that  resembled 
laughter,  flung  herself  all  at  once  upon  the  spot,  and  re- 
mained lying  there  motionless. 

Jeanie's  first  idea  was  to  take  the  opportunity  of  flight ; 
but  her  desire  to  escape  yielded  for  a  moment  to  apprehension 
for  the  poor  insane  being,  who,  she  thought,  might  perish  for 
want  of  relief.  With  an  effort  which,  in  her  circumstances, 
might  be  termed  heroic,  she  stooped  down,  spoke  in  a  sooth- 
ing tone,  and  endeavored  to  raise  up  the  forlorn  creature. 
She  effected  this  with  difficulty,  and,  as  she  placed  her  against 
the  tree  in  a  sitting  posture,  she  observed  with  surprise  that 
her  complexion,  usually  florid,  was  now  deadly  pale,  and  that 
her  face  was  bathed  in  tears.  Notwithstanding  her  own  ex- 
treme danger,  Jeanie  was  affected  by  the  situation  of  her 
companion  ;  and  the  rather  that,  through  the  whole  train  of  her 
wavering  and  inconsistent  state  of  mind  and  line  of  conduct, 
she  discerned  a  general  color  of  kindness  towards  herself,  for 
which  she  felt  grateful. 

"Let  me  alane  ! — let  me  alane  \"  said  the  poor  yonng 
woman,  as  her  paroxysm  of  sorrow  began  to  abate.  "  Let  me 
alane  ;  it  does  me  good  to  weep.  I  canna  shed  tears  but 
maybe  anes  or  twice  a  year,  and  I  aye  come  to  wet  this  turf 
with  them,  that  the  flowers  may  grow  fair,  and  the  grass  may 
be  green." 


300  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

"  But  what  is  the  matter  with  yoa  ?  "  said  Jeanie.  "  Why 
do  you  weep  so  bitterly  ?  " 

"  There  s  matter  enow,"  replied  the  lunatic  ;  "  mair  than 
ae  puir  mind  can  bear.  I  trow.  Stay  a  bit,  and  I'll  tell  you  a' 
about  it ;  for  I  like  ye,  Jeanie  Deans  ;  a'body  spoke  weel  about 
ye  when  we  lived  in  the  Pleasaunts.  And  I  mind  aye  the 
drink  o'  milk  ye  gae  me  yon  day,  when  I  had  been  on  Arthur's 
Seat  for  four-and-twenty  hours,  looking  for  the  ship  that 
somebody  was  sailing  in." 

These  words  recalled  to  Jeanie's  recollection  that,  in  fact, 
she  had  been  one  morning  much  frightened  by  meeting  a  crazy 
young  woman  near  her  father's  house  at  an  early  hour,  and 
that,  as  she  appeared  to  be  harmless,  her  apprehension  had 
been  changed  into  pity,  and  she  had  relieved  the  unhappy 
wanderer  with  some  food,  which  she  devoured  with  the  haste 
of  a  famished  person.  The  incident,  trifling  in  itself,  was  at 
present  of  great  importance,  if  it  should  be  found  to  have 
made  a  favorable  and  permanent  impression  on  the  mind  of 
the  object  of  her  charity. 

"  Yes,"  said  Madge,  "  I'll  tell  ye  all  about  it,  for  ye  are  a 
decent  man's  daughter — Douce  Davie  Deans,  ye  ken  ;  and 
maybe  ye'll  can  teach  me  to  find  out  the  narrow  way  and  the 
strait  path  ;  for  I  have  been  burning  bricks  in  Egypt,  and 
walkmg  through  the  weary  wilderness  of  Sinai,  for  lang  and 
mony  a  day.  But  whenever  I  think  about  mine  errors,  I  am 
like  to  cover  my  lips  for  shame."  Here  she  looked  up  and 
smiled.  "  It's  a  strange  thing  now — I  hae  spoke  mair  gude 
words  to  you  in  ten  minutes,  than  I  wad  speak  to  my  mother 
in  as  mony  years.  It's  no  that  I  dinna  think  on  them,  and 
whiles  they  are  just  at  my  tongue's  end  ;  but  then  comes  the 
devil  and  brushes  my  lips  with  his  black  wing,  and  lays  his 
broad  black  loof  on  my  mouth — for  a  black  loof  it  is,  Jeanie 
— and  sweeps  away  a'  my  gude  thoughts,  and  dits  up  my 
gude  words,  and  pits  a  wheen  fule  sangs  and  idle  vanities  in 
their  place." 

"  Try,  Madge,"  said  Jeanie — "  try  to  settle  your  mind  and 
make  your  breast  clean,  and  you'll  find  your  heart  easier. 
Just  resist  the  devil,  and  he  will  flee  from  you  ;  and  mind  that, 
as  my  worthy  father  tells  me,  there  is  nae  devil  sae  deceitfu' 
as  our  ain  wandering  thoughts." 

''  And  that's  true  too,  lass,"  said  Madge,  starting  up  ; 
*'and  I'll  gang  a  gate  where  the  devil  daurna  follow  me  ;  and 
it's  a  gate  that  yoa  will  like  dearly  to  gang  ;  but  I'll  keep 
a  fast  baud  o'  your  arm,  tor  fear  Apollyon  should  stride  across 
the  path,  as  he  did  in  th«  Pilgrim's  Progress." 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  301 

Accordingly,  she  got  up,  and,  taking  Jeanie  by  the  arm, 
began  to  walk  forward  at  a  great  pace  ;  and  soon,  to  her  com- 
panion's no  small  joy,  came  into  a  marked  path,  with  the 
meanders  of  which  she  seemed  perfectly  acquainted.  Jeanie 
endeavored  to  bring  her  back  to  the  confessional,  but  the 
fancy  was  gone  by.  In  fact,  the  mind  of  this  deranged  being 
resembled  nothing  so  much  as  a  quantity  of  dry  leaves,  which 
may  for  a  few  minutes  remain  still,  but  are  instantly  discom- 
posed and  put  in  motion  by  the  first  casual  breath  of  air. 
She  had  now  got  John  Bunyan's  parable  into  her  head,  to 
the  exclusion  of  everything  else^  and  on  she  went  with  great 
volubility. 

"  Did  ye  never  read  the  Pilgrim's  Progress?  And  you 
shall  be  the  woman  Christiana,  and  I  will  be  the  maiden 
Mercy  ;  for  ye  ken  Mercy  was  of  the  fairer  countenance,  and 
the  more  alluring  than  her  companion  ;  and  if  I  had  my  lit- 
tle messan  dog  here,  it  would  be  Great-Heart,  their  guide,  ye 
ken,  for  he  was  e'en  as  bauld  that  he  v,  ad  bark  at  onything 
twenty  times  his  size  ;  and  that  was  e'en  the  death  of  him, 
for  he  bit  Corporal  MacAlpine's  heels  ae  morning  when  they 
were  hauling  me  to  the  guard-house,  and  Corporal  MacAlpine 
killed  the  bit  faithfu'  thing  wi'  his  Lochaber  axe — deil  pike 
the  Highland  banes  o'  him  ! " 

"  0  fie,  Madge,"  said  Jeanie,  "  ye  should  not  speak  such 
words." 

"It's  very  true,"  said  Madge,  shaking  her  head;  "but 
then  I  maunna  think  on  my  puir  bit  doggie,  Snap,  when  I 
saw  it  lying  dying  in  the  gutter.  But  it's  just  as  weel,  for 
it  suffered  baitli  cauld  and  hunger  when  it  was  living,  and  in 
the  grave  there  is  rest  for  a'  things — rest  for  the  doggie,  and 
my  puir  bairn,  and  rae." 

"Your  bairn  ?"  said  Jeanie,  conceiving  that  by  speaking 
on  such  a  topic,  supposing  it  to  be  a  real  one,  she  could  not 
fail  to  bring  her  companion  to  a  more  composed  temper. 

She  was  mistaken,  however,  for  Madge  colored,  and  re- 
plied with  some  anger,  "  My  bairn  ?  ay,  to  be  sure,  my  bairn. 
What  for  shouldna  I  hae  a  bairn,  and  lose  a  bairn  too,  as  weel 
as  your  bonny  tittie,  the  Lily  of  St.  Leonard's  ?" 

The  answer  struck  Jeanie  with  some  alarm,  and  she  was 
anxious  to  soothe  the  irritation  she  had  unwittingly  given  oc- 
casion to.     "I  am  very  sorry  for  your  misfortune " 

"  Sorry !  what  wad  ye  be  sorry  for  ?  "  answered  Madge. 
"  The  bairn  was  a  blessing — that  is,  Jeanie,  it  Avad  hae  been 
a  blessing  if  it  hadna  been  for  my  mother  ;  but  my  mother's 
a  queer  woman.     Ye  see.  there  was  an  auld  carle  wi'  a  bit  land. 


303  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

and  a  gade  clat  o*  siller  besides,  just  the  very  pictnre  of  old 
Mr,  Feeblemind  or  Mr.  Ready-to-halt,  that  Great-Heart  de- 
livered from  Slaygood  the  giant,  when  he  was  rifling  him  and 
about  to  pick  his  bones, -for  Slaygood  was  of  the  nature  of  the 
flesh-eaters  ;  and  Great-Heart  killed  Giant  Despair  too  ;  but 
I  am  doubting  Giant  Despair's  come  alive  again,  for  a'  the 
story-book  ;  I  find  him  busy  at  my  heart  whiles/^ 

"  Weel,  and  so  the  auld  carle "  said  Jeanie,  for  she  was 

painfully  interested  in  getting  to  the  truth  of  Madge's  history, 
which  she  could  not  but  suspect  was  in  some  extraordinary 
way  linked  and  entwined  with  the  fate  of  her  sister.  She  was 
also  desirous,  if  possible,  to  engage  her  companion  in  some 
narrative  which  might  be  carried  on  in  a  lower  tone  of  voice, 
for  she  was  in  great  apprehension  lest  the  elevated  notes  of 
Madge's  conversation  should  direct  her  mother  or  the  robbeis 
in  search  of  them. 

'^  And  so  the  auld  carle,"  said  Madge,  repeating  her  words- - 
"  I  wish  you  had  seen  him  stoiting  about,  aff  ae  leg  on  to  the 
other,  wi'  a  kind  o'  dot-and-go-one  sort  o'  motion,  as  if  ilk 
ane  o'  his  twa  legs  had  belonged  to  sindry  folk.  But  Gentle 
George  could  take  him  afE  brawly.  Eh,  as  I  used  to  laugh  to 
see  George  gang  hip-hop  like  him  !  I  dinna  ken,  I  think  I 
laughed  heartier  then  than  what  I  do  now,  though  maybe  no 
just  sae  muckle." 

''  And  who  was  Gentle  George  ?  "  said  Jeanie,  endeavor- 
ing to  bring  her  back  to  her  story. 

"  0,  he  was  Geordie  Robertson,  ye  ken,  when  he  was  in 
Edinburgh  ;  but  that's  no  his  right  name  neither.     His  name 

is But  what  is  your  business  wi'  his  name  ?  "  said  she,  as 

if  upon  sudden  recollection.  "  What  have  ye  to  do  asking  for 
folks'  names  ?  Have  ye  a  mind  I  should  scour  my  knife  be- 
tween your  ribs,  as  my  mother  says  ?" 

As  this  was  spoken  with  a  menacing  tone  and  gesture, 
Jeanie  hastened  to  protest  her  total  innocence  of  purpose  in 
the  accidental  question  which  she  had  asked,  and  Madge  Wild- 
fire went  on,  somewhat  pacified. 

"  Never  ask  folks'  names,  Jeanie  :  it's  no  civil.  I  hae  seen 
half  a  dozen  o'  folk  in  my  mother's  at  anes,  and  ne'er  ane  o' 
them  ca'd  the  ither  by  his  name  ;  and  Daddie  Ratton  says  it 
is  the  most  uncivil  thing  may  be,  because  the  bailie  bodies 
are  aye  asking  fashions  questions,  when  ye  saw  sic  a  man  or 
sic  a  man  ;  and  if  ye  dinna  ken  their  names,  ye  ken  there  can 
be  nae  mair  speer'd  about  it." 

**  In  what  strange  school,"  thought  Jeanie  to  herself,  "  has 
this  poor  creature  been  bred  up,  where  such  remote  precautions 


THE  HEABT  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  303 

are  taken  against  the  pursuits  of  justice  ?  What  would  my 
father  or  Keuben  Butler  think,  if  I  were  to  tell  them  there 
are  sic  folk  in  the  world  ?  And  to  abuse  the  simplicity  of 
this  demented  creature  !  0,  that  I  were  but  safe  at  hame 
amang  mine  ain  leal  and  true  peoi3le  !  and  I'll  bless  God,  while 
I  have  breath,  that  placed  me  among  those  who  live  in  His 
fear,  and  under  the  shadow  of  His  wing." 

She  was  interrupted  by  the  insane  laugh  of  Madge  Wild- 
fire, as  she  saw  a  magpie  hop  across  the  path. 

"  See  there  !  that  was  the  gate  my  old  jo  used  to  cross  the 
country,  but  no  just  sae  lightly  :  he  hadna  wings  to  help  his 
auld  legs,  I  trow  ;  but  I  behoved  to  have  married  him  for  a' 
that,  Jeanie,  or  my  mother  wad  hae  been  the  dead  o'  me. 
But  then  came  in  the  story  of  my  poor  bairn,  and  my  mother 
thought  he  wad  be  deaved  wi'  its  skirling,  and  slie  pat  it  away 
in  below  the  bit  bourock  of  turf  yonder,  just  to  be  out  o'  the 
gate  ;  and  I  think  she  buried  my  best  wits  with  it,  for  I  have 
never  been  just  mysell  since.  And  only  think,  Jeanie,  after 
my  mother  had  been  at  a'  this  pains,  the  auld  doited  body 
Johnny  Drottle  turned  up  his  nose,  and  wadna  hae  aught  to 
say  to  me  !  But  it's  little  I  care  for  him,  for  I  have  led  a 
merry  life  ever  since,  and  ne'er  a  braw  gentleman  looks  at  me 
but  ye  wad  think  he  was  gaun  to  drop  off  his  horse  for  mere 
love  of  me.  I  have  kenn'd  some  o'  them  put  their  hand  in 
their  pocket  and  gie  me  as  muckle  as  sixpence  at  a  time,  just 
for  my  weel-faur'd  face." 

This  speech  gave  Jeanie  a  dark  insight  into  Madge's  his- 
tory. She  had  been  courted  by  a  wealthy  suitor,  whose  ad- 
dresses her  mother  had  favored,  notwithstanding  the  objection 
of  old  age  and  deformity.  She  had  been  seduced  by  some 
profligate,  and,  to  conceal  her  shame  and  promote  the  advan- 
tageous match  she  had  planned,  her  mother  had  not  hesitated 
to  destroy  the  offspring  of  their  intrigue.  That  the  conse- 
quence should  be  the  total  derangement  of  a  mind  which  was 
constitutionally  unsettled  by  giddiness  and  vanity  was  extremely 
natural ;  and  such  was,  in  fact,  the  history  of  Madge  Wildfire's 
insanity. 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

So  free  from  danger,  free  from  fear, 

They  cross'd  the  court,  right  glad  they  were. 

Christ  ABEL. 

Pursuing  the  path  which  Madge  had  chosen,  Jeanie  Deans 
observed,  to  lier  no  small  delight,  that  marks  of  more  cultiva- 
tion appeared,  and  the  thatched  roofs  of  houses,  with  their 
blue  smoke  arising  in  little  columns,  Avere  seen  embosomed  in  a 
tuft  of  trees  at  some  distance.  The  track  led  in  that  direction, 
and  Jeanie  therefore  resolved,  while  Madge  continued  to  pur- 
sue it,  that  she  would  ask  her  no  questions  ;  having  had  the 
penetration  to  observe  that  by  doing  so  she  ran  the  risk  of 
irritating  her  guide,  or  awakening  suspicions,  to  the  impres- 
sions of  which  persons  in  Madge's  unsettled  state  of  mind  are 
particularly  liable. 

Madge  therefore,  uninterrupted,  went  on  with  the  wild 
disjointed  chat  which  her  rambling  imagination  suggested  ;  a 
mood  in  which  she  was  much  more  communicative  respecting 
her  own  history  and  that  of  others  than  when  there  was  any 
attempt  made,  by  direct  queries  or  cross-examinations,  to  ex- 
tract information  on  thes,>  subjects. 

''It's  a  qaeer  thing,"  she  said,  ''but  whiles  I  can  speak 
about  the  bit  bairn  and  the  rest  of  it,  just  as  if  it  had  been 
another  body's  and  no  my  ain ;  and  whiles  I  am  like  to  break 
my  heart  about  it.     Had  you  ever  a  bairn,  Jeanie  ?  " 

Jeanie  replied  in  the  negative. 

"  Ay,  but  your  sister  had,  though  ;  and  I  ken  what  came 
o't  too." 

"  In  the  name  of  Heavenly  mercy,"  said  Jeanie,  forgetting 
the  line  of  conduct  which  she  had  hitherto  adopted,  "tell  me 
but  what  became  of  that  unfortunate  babe,  and " 

Madge  stopped,  looked  at  her  gravely  and  fixedly,  and 
then  broke  into  a  great  fit  of  laughing.  "  Aha,  lass,  catch 
me  if  you  can.  I  think  it's  easy  to  gar  you  trow  onything. 
How  suld  I  ken  onything  o'  your  sister's  wean  ?  Lasses  suld 
hae  naething  to  do  wi'  weans  till  they  are  married  ;  and  then 
a*  the  gossips  and  cummers  come  in  and  feast  as  if  it  were  the 
blithest  day  in  the  warld.     They  say  maidens'  bairns  are  weel 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  305 

guided.  I  wot  that  wasna  true  of  your  tittle's  and  mine  ; 
but  these  are  sad  tales  to  tell,  I  maun  just  sing  a  bit  to 
keep  up  my  heart.  It's  a  sang  that  Gentle  George  made  on 
me  lang  syne,  when  I  went  with  him  to  Lockington  wake,  to 
see  him  act  upon  a  stage,  in  fine  clothes,  with  the  player  folk. 
He  might  have  dune  waur  than  married  me  that  night  as  he 
promised  :  '  Better  wed  over  the  mixen  as  over  the  moor,'  as 
they  say  in  Yorkshire — he  may  gang  farther  and  fare  waur  ; 
but  that's  a'  ane  to  the  sang — 

"  I'm  Madge  of  the  country,  I'm  Madge  of  the  town, 
And  I'm  Madge  of  the  lad  I  am  blithest  to  own. 
The  Lady  of  Beever  in  dianaonds  may  shine. 
But  has  not  a  heart  half  so  lightsome  as  mine. 

"  I  am  Queen  of  the  Wake,  and  I'm  Lady  of  May, 
And  I  lead  the  blithe  ring  round  the  May-pole  to-day. 
The  wildfire  that  flashes  so  fair  and  so  free 
Was  never  so  bright  or  so  bonny  as  me. 

I  like  that  the  best  o'  a'  my  sangs,"  continued  the  maniac, 
*'  because  he  made  it.  I  am  often  singing  it,  and  that's  maybe 
the  reason  folk  ca'  me  Madge  Wildfire.  I  aye  answer  to  the 
name,  though  it's  no  my  ain,  for  what's  the  use  of  making  a 
fash?" 

"  But  ye  shouldna  sing  upon  the  Sabbath  at  least,"  said 
Jeanie,  who,  amid  all  her  distress  and  anxiety,  could  not  help 
being  scandalized  at  the  deportment  of  her  companion,  es- 
pecially as  they  now  approached  near  to  the  little  village. 

"  Ay  !  is  this  Sunday  ?  "  said  Madge.  "  My  mother  leads 
sic  a  life,  wi'  turning  night  into  day,  that  ane  loses  a'  count 
o'  the  days  o'  the  week,  and  disna  ken  Sunday  frae  Saturday. 
Besides,  it's  a'  your  Whiggery  :  in  England  folks  sing  when 
they  like.  And  then,  ye  ken,  you  are  Christiana  and  I  am 
Mercy ;  and  ye  ken,  as  they  went  on  their  way,  they  sang," 
And  she  immediately  raised  one  of  John  Buuyan's  ditties : 

"  He  that  is  down  need  fear  no  fall, 
He  that  is  low  no  pride  ; 
He  that  is  humble  ever  shall 
Have  God  to  be  his  guide. 

"  Fulness  to  such  a  burthen  is 
That  go  on  pilgrimage  ; 
Here  little,  and  hereafter  bliss, 
Is  best  from  age  to  age. 

And  do  ye  ken,  Jeanie,  I  think  there's  much  truth  in  that 
book,  the  Pilgrim's  Progress.     The  boy  that  sings  that  song 


306  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

was  feeding  his  father's  sheep  in  the  Valley  of  Humiliation, 
and  Mr.  Great-Heart  says  that  he  lived  a  merrier  life,  and 
had  more  of  the  herb  called  heart's-ease  in  his  bosom,  than 
they  that  wear  silk  and  velvet  like  me,  and  are  as  bonny  as  I 
am." 

Jeanie  Deans  had  never  read  the  fanciful  and  delightful 
parable  to  which  Madge  alluded.     Bunyan  was,  indeed,  a  rigid 
Calvinist,  but  then  he  was  also  a  member  of  a  Baptist  congre- 
gation, so  that  his  works  had  no  place  on  David  Deans's  shelf 
of  divinity.     Madge,  however,  at  some  time  of  her  life  had 
been  well  acquainted,  as  it  appeared,  with  the  most  popular 
of  his  performauces,  which,  indeed,  rarely  fails  to  make  a 
deep  impression  upon  children  and  people  of  the  lower  rank. 
''I  am  sure,"'  she  continued,  "  I  may  weel  say  I  am  come 
out  of  the  City  of  Destruction,  for  my  mother  is  Mrs.  Bat's- 
eyes,  that  dwells  at  Deadman's  Corner ;  and  Frank  Levitt 
and  Tyburu  Tam,  they  may  be  likened  to  Mistrust  and  Guilt, 
that  came  galloping  up,  and  struck  the  poor  pilgrim  to  the 
ground  with  a  great  club,  and  stole  a  bag  of  silver,  which  was 
most  of  his  spending  money,  and  so  have  they  done  to  many, 
and  will  do  to  more.     But  now  we  will  gang  to  the  Inter- 
preter's house,  for  I  ken  a  man  that  will  play  the  Interpreter 
right  weel ;  for  he  has  eyes  lifted  up  to  heaven,  the  best  of 
books  in  his  hand,  the  law  of  truth  written  on  his  lips,  and 
he  stands  as  if  he  pleaded  wi'  men.      0  if  I  had  minded  what 
he  had  said  to  me,  I  had  never  been  the  castaway  creature  that 
I  am  !     But  it  is  all  over  now.     But  we'll  knock  at  the  gate^ 
and  then  the  keeper  will  admit  Christiana,  but  Mercy  will  be 
left  out ;  and  then  I'll  stand  at  the  door  trembling  and  cry- 
ing, and  then  Christiana — that's  you,  Jeanie — will  intercede 
for  me  ;  and  then  Mercy — that's  me,  ye  ken — will  faint ;  and 
then  the  Interpreter — yes,  the  Interpreter,  that's  Mr.  Staun- 
ton liimself — will  come  out  and  take  me — that's  poor,  lost, 
demented  me — by  the  hand,  and  give  me  a  pomegranate,  and 
a  piece  of  honeycomb,  and  a  small  bottle  of  spirits,  to  stay  my 
fainting ;  and  then  the  good  times  will  come  back  again,  and 
we'll  be  the  happiest  folk  you  ever  saw." 

In  the  midst  of  the  confused  assemblage  of  ideas  indicated 
in  this  speech,  Jeanie  thought  she  saw  a  serious  purpose  on 
the  part  of  Madge  to  endeavor  to  obtain  the  pardon  and 
countenance  of  some  one  whom  she  had  offended ;  an  attempt 
the  most  likely  of  all  others  to  bring  them  once  more  into  con- 
tact with  law  and  legal  protection.  She  therefore  resolved  to 
be  guided  by  her  while  she  was  in  so  hopeful  a  disposition, 
and  act  for  ner  own  safety  according  to  circumstances. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  307 

They  were  now  close  by  the  village,  one  of  those  beautiful 
scenes  which  are  so  often  found  in  Merry  Enghiiid,  where  the 
cottages,  instead  of  being  built  in  two  direct  lines  on  each 
side  of  a  dusty  high-road,  stand  in  detached  groups,  inter- 
spersed not  only  with  large  oaks  and  elms,  but  with  fruit  trees, 
so  many  of  which  were  at  this  time  in  flourish  that  the  grove 
seemed  enamelled  with  their  crimson  and  white  blossoms.  In 
the  centre  of  the  hamlet  stood  the  parish  church  and  its  little 
Gothic  tower,  from  which  at  present  was  heard  the  Sunday 
chime  of  bells. 

"We  will  wait  here  until  the  folk  are  a'  in  the  church — 
they  ca'  the  kirk  a  church  in  England,  Jeanie,  be  sure  you 
mind  that — for  if  I  was  gaun  forward  amang  them,  a'  the 
gaitts  o'  boys  and  lasses  wad  be  crying  at  Madge  Wildfire's 
tail,  the  little  hellrakers  !  and  the  beadle  would  be  as  hard 
upon  us  as  if  it  was  our  fault.  I  like  their  skirling  as  ill  as 
he  does,  I  can  tell  him ;  I'm  sure  I  often  wish  there  was  a  het 
peat  doun  their  throats  when  they  set  them  up  that  gate." 

Conscious  of  the  disorderly  appearance  of  her  own  dress 
after  the  adventure  of  the  preceding  night,  and  of  the  gro- 
tesque habit  and  demeanor  of  her  guide,ancl  sensible  how  im- 
portant it  was  to  secure  an  attentive  and  patient  audience  to 
her  strange  story  from  some  one  who  might  have  the  means  to 
protect  her,  Jeanie  readily  acquiesced  in  Madge's  proposal  to  rest 
under  the  trees,  by  which  they  were  still  somewhat  screened, 
until  the  commencement  of  service  should  give  them  an  op- 
portunity of  entering  the  hamlet  without  attracting  a  crowd 
around  them.  She  made  the  less  opposition,  that  Madge  had 
intimated  that  this  was  not  the  village  where  her  mother  was 
in  custody,  and  that  the  two  squires  of  the  pad  were  absent  in 
a  different  direction. 

She  sat  herself  down,  therefore,  at  the  foot  of  an  oak,  and 
by  the  assistance  of  a  placid  fountain  which  had  been  dammed 
up  for  the  use  of  the  villagers,  and  which  served  her  as  a  nat- 
ural mirror,  she  began — no  uncommon  thing  with  a  Scottish 
maiden  of  her  rank — to  arrange  her  toilet  in  the  open  air,  and 
bring  her  dress,  soiled  and  disordered  as  it  was,  into  such  order 
as  the  place  and  circumstances  admitted. 

She  soon  perceived  reason,  however,  to  regret  that  she  had 
set  about  this  task,  however  decent  and  necessary,  in  the  pres- 
ent time  and  society.  Madge  Wildfire,  who,  among  other  in- 
dications of  insanity,  had  a  most  overweening  opinion  of  those 
charms  to  which,  in  fact,  she  had  owed  her  misery,  and  whose 
mind,  like  a  raft  upon  a  lake,  was  agitated  and  driven  about 
at  random  bv  each  fresh  impulse,  no  sooner  beheld  Jeanie  be- 


308  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

gin  to  arrange  her  liair,  place  her  bonnet  in  order,  rnb  the 
dust  from  her  shoes  and  clothes,  adjust  her  neck-handkerchief 
and  mittens,  and  so  forth,  than  with  imitative  zeal  she  began 
to  bedizen  and  trick  herself  out  with  shreds  and  remnants  of 
beggarly  finery,  which  she  took  out  of  a  little  bundle,  and 
which,  when  disposed  around  her  person,  made  her  appear- 
ance ten  times  more  fantastic  and  apish  than  it  had  been  be- 
fore. 

Jeanie  groaned  in  spirit,  but  dared  not  interfere  in  a  mat- 
ter so  delicate.  Across  the  man's  cap  or  riding-hat  which  she 
wore,  Madge  placed  a  broken  and  soiled  white  feather,  inter- 
sected with  one  which  had  been  shed  from  the  train  of  a  pea- 
cock. To  her  dress,  which  was  a  kind  of  riding-habit,  she 
stitched,  pinned,  and  otherwise  secured  a  large  furbelow  of 
artificial  flowers,  all  crushed,  wrinkled,  and  dirty,  which  had 
first  bedecked  a  lady  of  quality,  then  descended  to  her  abigail, 
and  dazzled  the  inmates  of  the  servants'  hall.  A  tawdry 
scarf  of  yellow  silk,  trimmed  with  tinsel  and  spangles,  which 
had  seen  as  hard  service  and  boasted  as  honorable  a  transmis- 
sion, was  next  flung  over  one  shoulder,  and  fell  across  her  per- 
son in  the  manner  of  a  shoulder-belt,  or  baldrick.  Madge 
then  stripped  off  the  coarse  ordinary  shoes  which  she  wore, 
and  replaced  bhem  by  a  pair  of  dirty  satin  ones,  spangled  and 
embroidered  to  match  the  scarf,  and  furnished  with  very  high 
heels.  She  had  cut  a  willow  switch  in  her  morning's  walk, 
almost  as  long  as  a  boy's  fishing-rod.  This  she  set  herself 
seriously  to  peel,  and  when  it  was  transformed  into  such  a 
wand  as  the  Treasurer  or  High  Steward  bears  on  public  occa- 
sions, she  told  Jeanie  that  she  thought  they  now  looked  de- 
cent, as  young  women  should  do  upon  the  Sunday  morning, 
and  that,  as  the  bells  had  done  ringing,  she  was  willing  to 
conduct  her  to  the  Interpreter's  house. 

Jeanie  sighed  heavily  to  think  it  should  be  her  lot  on  the 
Lord's  day,  and  during  kirk-time  too,  to  parade  the  street  of 
an  inhabited  village  with  so  very  grotesque  a  comrade;  but 
necessity  had  no  law,  since,  without  a  positive  quarrel  with  the 
madwoman,  which,  in  the  circumstances,  would  have  been 
very  unadvisable,  she  could  see  no  means  of  shaking  herself 
free  of  her  society. 

As  for  poor  Madge,  she  was  completely  elated  with  personal 
vanity,  and  the  most  perfect  satisfaction  concerning  her  own 
dazzling  dress  and  superior  appearance.  They  entered  the 
hamlet  without  being  observed,  except  by  one  old  woman,  who, 
being  nearly  "  high-gravel  blind,"  was  only  conscious  that 
something   very    fine    and  glittering    was   passing   by,   and 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  809 

dropped  as  deep  a  reverence  to  Madge  as  slie  would  have  done 
to  a  countess.  This  filled  up  the  measure  of  Madge's  self- 
approbation.  She  minced,  she  ambled,  she  smiled,  she  sim- 
pered, and  waved  Jeanie  Deans  forward  with  the  condescen- 
sion of  a  noble  chaperon,  who  has  undertaken  the  charge  of  a 
country  miss  on  her  first  journey  to  the  capital. 

Jeanie  followed  in  patience,  and  with  her  eyes  fixed  on  the 
ground,  that  she  might  save  herself  the  mortification  of  seeing 
her  companion's  absurdities  ;  but  she  started  when,  ascending 
two  or  three  steps,  she  found  herself  in  the  churchyard,  and 
saw  that  Madge  was  making  straight  for  the  door  of  the 
church.  As  Jeanie  had  no  mind  to  enter  the  congregation 
in  such  company,  she  walked  aside  from  the  pathway,  and 
said  in  a  decided  tone,  "  Madge,  I  will  wait  here  till  the  church 
comes  out  ;  you  may  go  in  by  yourself  if  you  have  a  mind." 

As  she  spoke  these  words,  she  was  about  to  seat  herself 
upon  one  of  the  gravestones. 

Madge  was  a  little  before  Jeanie  when  she  turned  aside ; 
but  suddenly  changing  Jier  course,  she  followed  her  with  long 
strides,  and,  with  every  feature  inflamed  with  passion,  over- 
took and  seized  her  by  the  arm.  "  Do  ye  think,  ye  ungrate- 
fa'  wretch,  that  I  am  gaun  to  let  you  sit  doun  upon  my  fa- 
ther's grave  ?  The  deil  settle  ye  doun  !  if  ye  dinna  rise  and 
come  into  the  Interpreter's  house,  that's  the  house  of  God, 
wi'  me,  but  I'll  rive  every  dud  aff  your  back  ! " 

She  adapted  the  action  to  the  phrase  ;  for  with  one  clutch 
she  stripped  Jeanie  of  her  straw  bonnet  and  a  handful  of  her 
hair  to  boot,  and  threw  it  up  into  an  old  yew-tree,  where  it 
stuck  fast.  Jeanie's  first  impulse  was  to  scream,  but  conceiv- 
ing she  might  receive  deadly  harm  before  she  could  obtain  the 
assistance  of  any  one,  notwithstanding  the  vicinity  of  the 
church,  she  thought  it  wiser  to  follow  the  madwoman  into  the 
congregation,  where  she  might  find  some  means  of  escape  from 
her,  or  at  least  be  secured  against  her  violence.  But  when  she 
meekly  intimated  her  consent  to  follow  Madge,  her  guide's 
uncertain  brain  had  caught  another  train  of  ideas.  She  held 
Jeanie  fast  with  one  hand,  and  with  the  other  pointed  to  the 
inscription  on  the  gravestone,  and  commanded  her  to  read  it. 
Jeanie  obeyed,  and  read  these  words : 

"This  Monument  was  erected  to  the  Memory  of 
Donald  Murdockson  of  the  Kino's  xxvi.,  or  Cam- 
ERONiAN  Regiment,  a  sincere  Christian,  a  bravb 
Soldier,  and  a  faithful  Servant,  by  his  grateful 

AND  SORROWING  MaSTEK,  ROBERT  STAUNTON." 


310  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

"  It's  very  weel  read,  Jeanie  ;  it's  just  the  very  words,'* 
said  Madge,  whose  ire  had  now  faded  into  deep  melancholy, 
and  with  a  step  which,  to  Jeanie's  great  joy,  was  uncommon- 
ly quiet  and  mournful,  she  led  her  companion  towards  the  door 
of  the  church. 

It  was  one  of  those  old-fashioned  Gothic  parish  churches 
which  are  frequent  in  England,  the  most  cleanly,  decent,  and 
reverential  places  of  worship  that  are,  perhaps,  anywhere  to 
be  found  in  the  Christian  world.  Yet,  notwithstanding  the 
decent  solemnity  of  its  exterior,  Jeanie  was  too  faithful  to  the 
directory  of  the  Presbyterian  Kirk  to  have  entered  a  prelatic 
place  of  worship,  and  would,  upon  any  other  occasion,  have 
thought  that  she  beheld  in  the  porch  the  venerable  figure  of 
her  father  waving  her  back  from  the  entrance,  and  pronoun- 
cing in  a  solemn  tone,  "  Cease,  my  child,  to  hear  the  instruc- 
tion which  causeth  to  err  from  the  words  of  knowledge." 
But  in  her  present  agitating  and  alarming  situation,  she 
looked  for  safety  to  this  forbidden  place  of  assembly,  as  the 
hunted  animal  will  sometimes  seek  shelter  from  imminent 
danger  in  the  human  habitation,  or  in  other  places  of  refuge 
most  alien  to  its  nature  and  habits.  Not  even  the  sound  of 
the  organ,  and  of  one  or  two  flutes  which  accompanied  the 
psalmody,  prevented  her  from  following  her  guide  into  the 
chancel  of  the  church. 

No  sooner  had  Madge  put  her  foot  upon  the  pavement, 
and  become  sensible  that  she  was  the  object  of  attention  to 
the  spectators,  than  she  resumed  all  the  fantastic  extravagance 
of  deportment  which  some  transient  touch  of  melancholy 
had  banished  for  an  instant.  She  swam  rather  than  walked 
up  the  centre  aisle,  dragging  Jeanie  after  her,  whom  she  held 
fast  by  the  hand.  She  would,  indeed,  have  fain  slipped 
aside  into  the  pew  nearest  to  the  door,  and  left  Madge  to 
ascend  in  her  own  manner  and  alone  to  the  high  j)laces  of 
the  synagogue  ;  but  this  was  impossible,  without  a  degree  of 
violent  resistance  which  seemed  to  her  inconsistent  with  the 
time  and  place,  and  she  was  accordingly  led  in  captivity  up  the 
whole  length  of  the  church  by  her  grotesque  conductress,  who, 
with  half-shut  eyes,  a  prim  smile  upon  her  lips,  and  a  mincing 
motion  with  her  hands,  which  corresponded  with  the  delicate 
and  affected  pace  at  which  she  was  pleased  to  move,  seemed 
to  take  the  general  stare  of  the  congregation  which  such  an 
exhibition  necessarily  excited  as  a  high  compliment,  and 
which  she  returned  by  nods  and  half  courtesies  to  individuals 
among  the  audience  whom  she  seemed  to  distinguish  as  ac- 
quaintances.    Her  absurdity  was  enhanced  in  the  eyes  of 


THE  HEART  OF  MlDLOTHIAli  8!? 

the  spectators  by  the  strange  contrast  which  she  formed  to 
her  companion,  who,  with  dishevelled  hair,  downcast  eyes, 
and  a  face  glowing  with  shame,  was  dragged,  as  it  were,  in 
triumph  after  her. 

Madge's  airs  were  at  length  fortunately  cut  short  by  her 
encountering  in  her  progress  the  looks  of  the  clergyman,  who 
fixed  upon  her  a  glance  at  once  steady,  compassionate,  and 
admonitory.  She  hastily  opened  an  empty  pew  which  hap- 
pened to  be  near  her,  and  entered,  dragging  in  Jeanie  after 
her.  Kicking  Jeanie  on  the  shins  by  way  of  hint  that  she 
should  follow  her  example,  she  sunk  her  head  upon  her  hand 
for  the  space  of  a  minute.  Jeanie,  to  whom  this  posture  of 
mental  devotion  was  entirely  new,  did  not  attempt  to  do  the 
like,  but  looked  round  her  with  a  bewildered  stare,  which 
her  neighbors,  judging  from  the  company  in  which  they  saw 
her,  very  naturally  "ascribed  to  insanity.  Every  person  in  their 
immediate  vicinity  drew  back  from  this  extraordinary  couple 
as  far  as  the  limits  of  their  pew  permitted  ;  but  one  old  man 
could  not  get  beyond  Madge's  reach  ere  she  had  snatched  the 
prayer-book  from  his  hand  and  ascertained  the  lesson  of  the 
day.  She  then  turned  up  the  ritual,  and,  with  the  most  over- 
strained enthusiasm  of  gesture  and  manner,  showed  Jeanie 
the  passages  as  they  were  read  in  the  service,  making,  at  the 
same  time,  her  own  responses  so  loud  as  to  be  heard  above 
those  of  every  other  person. 

Notwithstanding  the  shame  and  vexation  which  Jeanie  felt 
in  being  tlius  exposed  in  a  place  of  worship,  she  could  not  and 
durst  not  omit  rallying  her  spirits  so  as  to  look  around  her 
and  consider  to  whom  she  ought  to  appeal  for  protection  so 
soon  as  the  service  should  be  concluded.  Her  first  ideas  natu- 
rally fixed  upon  the  clergyman,  and  she  was  confirmed  in  the 
resolution  by  observing  that  he  was  an  aged  gentleman,  of  a 
dignified  appearance  and  deportment,  who  read  the  service 
with  an  undisturbed  and  decent  gravity,  which  brought  back 
to  becoming  attention  those  younger  members  of  the  congre- 
gation who  had  been  disturbed  by  the  extravagant  behavior 
of  Madge  Wildfire.  To  the  clergyman,  therefore,  Jeanie  re- 
solved to  make  her  appeal  when  the  service  was  over. 

It  is  true,  she  felt  disposed  to  be  shocked  at  his  surplice, 
of  which  she  had  heard  so  much,  but  which  she  had  never 
seen  upon  the  person  of  a  preacher  of  the  Word.  Then  she 
was  confused  by  the  change  of  posture  adopted  in  different 
parts  of  the  ritual,  the  more  so  as  Madge  Wildfire,  to  whom 
they  seemed  familiar,  took  the  opportunity  to  exercise  author- 
ity over  her,  pulling  her  up  and  pushing  her  down  with  a 


312  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

bustling  assiduity  whicli  Jeanie  felt  must  make  them  both, 
the  objects  of  painful  attention.  But,  notwithstanding  these 
prejudices,  it  was  her  prudent  resolution,  in  this  dilemma,  to 
imitate  as  nearly  as  she  could  what  was  done  around  her. 
''The  prophet,"  she  thought,  'permitted  Naaman  the  Syrian 
to  bow  even  in  the  house  of  Rimmon.  Surely  if  I,  in  this 
streight,  worship  the  God  of  my  fathers  in  mine  own  lan- 
guage, although  the  manner  thereof  be  strange  tome,  the  Lord 
will  pardon  me  in  this  thing. ^' 

In  this  resolution  she  became  so  much  confirmed  that, 
withdrawing  herself  from  Madge  as  far  as  the  pew  permitted, 
she  endeavored  to  evince,  by  serious  aud  undeviating  attention 
to  what  was  passing,  that  her  mind  was  composed  to  devotion. 
Hertorraeutor  would  not  long  have  permitted  her  to  remain 
quiet,  but  fatigue  overpowered  her,  and  she  fell  fast  asleep  in 
the  other  corner  of  the  pew. 

Jeanie,  though  her  mind  in  her  own  despite  sometimes  re- 
verted to  her  situation,  compelled  herself  to  give  attention  to 
a  sensible,  energetic,  and  well-composed  discourse  upon  the 
practical  doctrines  of  Christianity,  which  she  could  not  help 
approving,  although  it  was  every  word  written  down  and  read 
by  the  preacher,  and  although  it  was  delivered  in  a  tone  and 
gesture  very  different  from  those  of  Boanerges  Stormheaven, 
who  was  her  father's  favorite  preacher.  The  serious  and 
placid  attention  with  which  Jeanie  listened  did  not  escape  the 
clergyman.  Madge  Wildfire's  entrance  had  rendered  him  ap- 
prehensive of  some  disturbance,  to  provide  against  which,  as 
far  as  possible,  he  often  turned  his  eyes  to  the  part  of  the 
church  where  Jeanie  and  she  were  placed,  and  became  soon 
aware  that,  although  the  loss  of  her  head-gear  and  the  awk- 
wardness of  her  situation  had  given  an  uncommon  and 
anxious  air  to  the  features  of  the  former,  yet  she  was  in  a 
state  of  mind  very  different  from  that  of  her  companion. 
When  he  dismissed  the  congregation,  he  observed  her  look 
around  with  a  wild  and  terrified  look,  as  if  uncertain  what 
course  she  ought  to  adopt,  and  noticed  that  she  approached 
one  or  two  of  the  most  decent  of  the  congregation,  as  if  to 
address  them,  and  then  shrunk  back  timidly,  on  observing 
that  they  seemed  to  shun  and  to  avoid  her.  The  clergyman 
was  satisfied  there  must  be  something  extraordinary  in  all 
tills,  and  as  a  benevolent  man,  as  well  as  a  good  Christian 
pastor,  he  resolved  to  inquire  into  the  matter  more  minutely. 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

There  govern'd  in  that  year 
A  stern,  stout  churl — an  angry  overseer. 

Crabbe. 

While  Mr.  Stannton,  for  such  was  this  worthy  clergyman's 
name,  was  laying  aside  his  gown  in  the  vestr}^  Jeanie  was  in 
the  act  of  coming  to  an  open  rupture  with  Madge. 

*'  We  mustreturn  to  Mummer's  barn  directly/' said  Madge; 
"  we'll  be  ower  late,  and  my  mother  will  be  angry." 

"1  am  not  going  buck  with  you,  Madge,"  said  Jeanie,  tak- 
ing out  a  guinea  and  offering  it  to  her  ;  "  I  am  much  obliged  to 
you,  but  I  maun  gang  my  ain  road." 

"  And  me  coming  a'  this  way  out  o'  my  gate  to  pleasure 
yon,  ye  ungratefu'  cutty,"  answered  Madge  ;  ''  and  me  to  be 
brained  by  my  mother  when  I  gang  hame,  and  a'  for  your  sake  ! 
But  I  will  gar  ye  as  good " 

"  For  God's  sake,"  said  Jeanie  to  a  man  who  stood  beside 
them,  "  keep  her  oif  ;  she  is  mad  !  " 

"  Ey,  ey,"  answered  the  boor  ;  "^  I  hae  some  guess  of  that, 
and  I  trow  thou  be'st  a  bird  of  the  same  feather.  Howsom- 
ever,  Madge,  I  red  thee  keep  hand  off  her^  or  I'se  lend  thee  a 
whisterpoop." 

Several  of  the  lower  class  of  the  parishioners  now  gathered 
round  the  strangers,  and  the  cry  arose  among  the  boys  that 
"  there  was  a-going  to  be  a  lite  between  mad  Madge  Murdock- 
son  and  another  Bess  of  Bedlam."  But  while  the  fry  assembled 
with  the  humane  hope  of  seeing  as  much  of  the  fun  as  possi- 
ble, the  laced  cocked  hat  of  the  beadle  was  discerned  among 
the  multitude,  and  all  made  way  for  that  person  of  awful  au- 
thority.    His  first  address  was  to  Madge. 

"  What's  brought  thee  back  again,  thou  silly  donnot,  to 
plague  this  parish  ?  Hast  thou  brought  ony  more  bastards  wi* 
thee  to  lay  to  honest  men's  doors  ?  or  does  thou  think  to  bur- 
den us  with  this  goose,  that's  as  gare-brained  as  thysell,  as  if 
rates  were  no  up  enow  ?  Away  wi'  thee  to  thy  thief  of  a 
mother  ;  she's  fast  in  the  stocks  at  Barkston  town-end.  Away 
7f'\'  ye  out  o'  the  parish,  or  I'se  be  at  ye  with  the  rattan/* 


314  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

Madge  stood  snlky  for  a  minute  ;  but  she  had  been  too  often 
taught  submission  to  the  beadle's  authority  by  ungentle  means 
to  feel  courage  enough  to  dispute  it. 

"  And  my  mother — my  puir  auld  mother,  is  in  the  stocks  at 
Barkston  !  This  is  a'  your  wyte.  Miss  Jeanie  Deans  ;  but  I'll 
be  upsides  wi'  you,  as  sure  as  my  name's  Madge  Wildfire — I 
mean  Murdockson.  God  help  me,  I  forget  my  very  name  in 
this  confused  waste  ! " 

So  saying,  she  turned  upon  her  heel  and  went  off,  followed 
by  all  the  mischievous  imps  of  the  village,  some  crying, 
*' Madge,  canst  thou  tell  thy  name  yet?"  some  pulling  the 
skirts  of  her  dress,  and  all,  to  the  best  of  their  strength  and 
ingenuity,  exercising  some  new  device  or  otherto  exasperate 
her  into  frenzy. 

Jeanie  saw  her  departure  with  infinite  delight,  though  she 
wished  that,  in  some  Avay  or  other,  she  could  have  requited  the 
service  Madge  had  conferred  upon  her. 

In  the  meantime,  ^le  applied  to  the  beadle  to  know  whether 
*' there  was  any  house  in  the  village  where  she  could  be  civilly 
entertained  for  her  money,  and  whether  she  coald  be  permitted 
to  speak  to  the  clergyman  ?" 

"  Ay,  ay,  we'se  ha'  reverend  care  on  thee ;  and  I  think," 
answered  the  man  of  constituted  authority,  "that,  unless  thou 
answer  the  Rector  all  the  better,  we'se  spare  thy  money,  and 
gie  thee  lodging  at  the  parish  charge,  young  woman." 

"  Where  am  I  to  go,  then  ?"  said  Jeanie,  in  some  alarm. 

''  Why,  I  am  to  take  thee  to  his  Eeverence,  in  the  first  place, 
to  gie  an  account  o'  thysell,  and  to  see  thou  comena  to  be  a 
burden  upon  the  parish." 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  burden  any  one,"  replied  Jeanie  ;  "  I  have 
enough  for  my  own  wants,  and  only  wish  to  get  on  my  journey 
safely." 

"  Why,  that's  another  matter,"  replied  the  beadle,  "  an  if 
it  be  true  ;  and  I  think  thou  dost  not  look  so  pollrumptious 
as  thy  playfellow  yonder.  Thou  wouldst  be  a  mettle  lass  enow, 
an  thou  wert  snog  and  snod  a  bit  better.  Come  thou  away, 
then;  the  Rector  is  a  good  man." 

"Is  that  the  minister,"  said  Jeanie,  "who  preached " 

"  The  minister  !  Lord  help  thee  !  What  kind  o'  Presby- 
terian art  thou  ?  Why,  'tis  the  Rector — the  Rector's  sell, 
woman,  and  there  isna  the  like  o'  him  in  the  county,  nor  the 
four  next  to  it.  Come  away — away  with  thee  ;  we  munna 
bide  here." 

"  I  am  sure  I  am  very  willing  to  go  to  see  the  minister," 
said  Jeanie  ;  "  for,  though  he  read  his  discourse,  and  wore  that 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  315 

Surplice,  as  they  call  it  here,  1  cannot  but  think  he  must  be  a 
very  worthy  God-fearing  man,  to  jDreach  the  root  of  the  mat- 
ter in  the  way  he  did." 

The  disappointed  rabble,  finding  that  there  was  like  to 
be  no  further  sport,  had  by  this  time  dispersed,  and  Jeanie, 
with  her  usual  patience,  followed  her  consequential  and  surly, 
but  not  brutal,  conductor  towards  the  rectory. 

This  clerical  mansion  was  large  and  commodious,  for  the 
living  was  an  excellent  one,  and  the  advowson  belonged  to  a 
very  wealthy  family  in  the  neighborhood,  who  had  usually 
bred  up  a  son  or  nephew  to  the  church,  for  the  sake  of  in- 
ducting him,  as  opportunity  offered,  into  this  very  comforta- 
ble provision.  In  this  manner  the  i-ectory  of  Willingham  had 
always  been  considered  as  a  direct  and  immediate  appanage  of 
Willingham  Hall ;  and  as  the  rich  baronets  to  whom  the  lat- 
ter belonged  had  usually  a  son,  or  brother,  or  nephew,  settled 
in  the  living,  the  utmost  care  had  been  taken  to  render  their 
habitation  not  merely  respectable  and  commodious,  but  even 
dignified  and  imposing. 

It  was  situated  about  four  hundred  yards  from  the  village, 
and  on  a^  rising  ground  which  sloped  gently  upward,  covered 
with  small  enclosures,  or  closes,  laid  out  irregularly,  so  that 
the  old  oaks  and  elms,  which  were  planted  in  hedge-rows,  fell 
into  perspective,  and  were  blended  together  in  beautiful  ir- 
regularity. When  they  approached  nearer  to  the  house,  a 
handsome  gateway  admitted  them  into  a  lawn,  of  narrow 
dimensions,  indeed,  but  which  was  interspersed  with  large 
sweet-chestnut  trees  and  beeches,  and  kept  in  handsome  order. 
The  front  of  the  house  was  irregular.  Part  of  it  seemed  very 
old,  and  had,  in  fact,  been  the  resident  of  the  incumbent  in 
Eomish  times.  Successive  occupants  had  made  considerable 
additions  and  improvements,  each  in  the  taste  of  his  own  age, 
and  without  much  regard  to  symmetry.  But  these  incongrui- 
ties of  architecture  were  so  graduated  and  happily  mingled,  that 
the  eye,  far  from  being  displeased  with  the  combinations  of 
various  styles,  saw  nothing  but  what  was  interesting  in  the 
varied  and  intricate  pile  which  they  exhibited.  Fruit  trees 
displayed  on  the  southern  wall,  outer  staircases,  various  places 
of  entrance,  a  combination  of  roofs  and  chimneys  of  different 
ages,  united  to  render  the  front,  not  indeed  beautiful  or  grand, 
but  intricate,  perplexed,  or,  to  use  Mr.  Price's  appropriate 
phrase,  picturesque.  The  most  considerable  addition  was 
that  of  the  present  Sector,  who,  "  being  a  bookish  man,  "  as 
the  beadle  was  at  the  pains  to  inform  Jeanie,  to  augment, 
perhaps,  her  reverence  for  the  person  before  whom  she  ^a«" 


316  WAV^RLEY  NOVELS 

to  appear,  had  built  a  handsome  library  and  parlor,  and  no 
less  than  two  additional  bedrooms. 

"  Mony  men  would  hae  scruj)led  such  expense,"  continued 
the  parochial  officer,  "  seeing  as  the  living  mun  go  as  it  pleases 
Sir  Edmund  to  will  it ;  but  his  Eeverence  has  a  canny  bit  land 
of  his  own,  and  need  not  look  on  two  sides  of  a  penny." 

Jeanie  could  not  help  comparing  the  irregular  yet  exten- 
sive and  commodious  pile  of  building  before  her  to  the 
**  manses  "  in  her  own  country,  where  a  set  of  penurious  her- 
itors, professing  all  the  while  the  devotion  of  their  lives  and 
fortunes  to  the  Presbyterian  establishment,  strain  their  in- 
ventions to  discover  what  may  be  nipped,  and  clipped,  and 
pared  from  a  building  which  forms  but  a  poor  accommodation 
even  for  the  present  incumbent,  and,  despite  the  superior 
advantage  of  stone  masonry,  must,  in  the  course  of  forty  or 
fifty  years,  again  burden  their  descendants  with  an  expense 
which,  once  liberally  and  handsomely  employed,  ought  to 
have  freed  their  estates  from  a  recurrence  of  it  for  more  than 
a  century  at  least. 

Behind  the  Rector's  house  the  ground  sloped  down  to  a 
small  river,  which,  without  possessing  the  romantic  vivacity 
and  rapidity  of  a  northern  stream,  was,  nevertheless,  by  its 
occasional  appearance  through  the  ranges  of  willows  and  pop- 
lars that  crowned  its  banks,  a  very  pleasing  accompaniment 
to  the  landscape.  "It  was  the  best  trouting  stream,"  said  the 
beadle,  whom  the  patience  of  Jeanie,  and  especially  the  assur- 
ance that  she  was  not  about  to  become  a  burden  to  the  par- 
ish, had  rendered  rather  communicative — "  the  best  trouting 
stream  in  all  Lincolnshire  ;  for  when  you  got  lower  there  was 
nought  to  be  done  wi'  fly-fishing." 

Turning  aside  from  the  principal  entrance,  he  conducted 
Jeanie  towards  a  sort  of  portal  connected  with  the  older  part 
of  the  building,  which  was  chiefly  occupied  by  servants,  and 
knocking  at  the  door,  it  was  opened  by  a  servant  in  grave  j^ur- 
ple  livery,  such  as  befitted  a  wealthy  and  dignified  clergyman. 

"  How  dost  do,  Tummas  ?  "  said  the  beadle  ;  ''  and  hov>'^s 
young  Measter  Staunton  ?" 

"  Why,  but  poorly — but  poorly,  Measter  Stubbs.  Are 
you  wanting  to  see  his  Reverence  ?  " 

"Ay,  ay,  Tummas  ;  please  to  say  I  ha'  brought  up  the 
young  woman  as  came  to  service  to-day  with  mad  Madge 
Murdockson  ;  she  seems  to  be  a  decentish  koind  o'  body ; 
but  I  ha'  asked  her  never  a  question.  Only  I  can  tell  his 
Reverence  that  she  is  a  Scotchwoman,  I  judge,  and  as  flat  as 
the  fens  of  Holland." 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  317 

Tummas  honored  Jeanie  Deans  with  such  a  stare  as  the 
I>ampered  domestics  of  the  rich,  whether  spiriuial  or  tem- 
poral, usually  esteem  it  part  of  their  privilege  to  bestow  upon 
the  poor,  and  then  desired  Mr,  Stubbs  and  his  charge  to  step 
in  till  he  informed  his  master  of  their  presence. 

The  room  into  which  he  showed  them  was  a  sort  of  stew- 
ard's parlor,  hung  with  a  county  map  or  two,  and  three  or 
four  prints  of  eminent  persons  connected  with  the  county,  as 
Sir  William  Monson,  James  York  the  blacksmith  of  Lincoln,* 
and  the  famous  Peregrine,  Lord  Willoughby,  in  complete 
armor,  looking  as  when  he  said,  in  the  words  of  the  legend 
below  the  engraving — 

"  Stand  to  it,  noble  pikemen, 

And  face  ye  well  about : 
And  shoot  ye  sharp,  bold  bowmen, 

And  we  will  keep  them  out. 
Ye  musquet  and  calliver-men. 

Do  you  prove  true  to  me, 
I'll  be  the  foremost  man  in  fight. 

Said  brave  Lord  Willoughbee," 

When  they  had  entered  this  apartment,  Tummas  as  a  mat- 
ter of  course  offered,  and  as  a  matter  of  course  Mr,  Stubbs  ac- 
cepted, a  "summat"  to  eat  and  drink,  being  the  respectable 
relics  of  a  gammon  of  bacon,  and  a  whole  whiskin,  or  black- 
pot,  of  sufficient  double  ale.  To  these  eatables  Mr.  Beadle  se- 
riously inclined  himself,  and  (for  we  must  do  him  justice)  not 
without  an  invitation  to  Jeanie,  in  which  Tummas  joined,  that 
his  prisoner  or  charge  would  follow  his  good  example.  But 
although  she  might  have  stood  in  need  of  refreshment,  con- 
sidering she  had  tasted  no  food  that  day,  the  anxiety  of  the 
moment,  her  own  sparing  and  abstemious  habits,  and  a  bash- 
ful aversion  to  eat  in  company  of  the  two  strangers,  induced 
her  to  decline  their  courtesy.  So  she  sat  in  a  chair  apart, 
while  Mr.  Stubbs  and  Mr.  Tummas,  who  had  chosen  to  join 
his  friend  in  consideration  that  dinner  was  to  be  put  back  till 
the  afternoon  service  was  over,  made  a  hearty  luncheon,  which 
lasted  for  half  an  hour,  and  might  not  then  have  concluded, 
had  not  his  Eeverence  rung  his  bell,  so  that  Tummas  was 
obliged  to  attend  his  master.  Then,  and  no  sooner,  to  save 
himself  the  labor  of  a  second  journey  to  the  other  end  of  the 
house,  he  announced  to  his  master  the  arrival  of  Mr.  Stubbs, 
with  the  other  madwoman,  as  he  chose  to  designate  Jeanie, 
as  an  event  which  had  just  taken  place.     He  returned  with  an 

♦Author  of  the  Union  of  Honor,  &  tre&tise  on  English  Heraldry,  London,  1641 
iLaing). 


318  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

order  that  Mr.  Stubbs  and  the  young  woman  should  be  instantly 
ushered  up  to  tlie  library. 

The  beadle  bolted  in  baste  his  last  mouthful  of  fat  bacon, 
washed  down  the  greasy  morsel  with  the  last  rinsings  of  the 
pot  of  ale,  and  immediately  marshalled  Jeanie  through  one 
or  two  intricate  passages,  which  led  from  the  ancient  to 
the  more  modern  buildings,  into  a  handsome  little  hall,  or 
ante-room,  adjoining  to  the  library,  and  out  of  which  a  glass 
door  opened  to  the  lawn. 

"Stay  here,"  said  Stubbs,  "till  I  tell  his  Keverence  you 
are  come." 

So  saying,  he  opened  a  door  and  entered  the  library. 

Without  wishing  to  hear  their  conversation,  Jeanie,  as 
she  was  circumstanced,  could  not  avoid  it  ;  for  as  Stubbs 
stood  by  the  door,  and  his  Reverence  was  at  the  upper  end  of 
a  large  room,  their  conversation  was  necessarily  audible  in 
the  ante-room. 

"  So  you  have  brought  the  young  woman  here  at  last,  Mr. 
Stubbs.  I  expected  you  some  time  since.  You  know  I  do 
not  wish  such  persons  to  remain  in  custody  a  moment  without 
some  inquiry  into  their  situation." 

"  Very  true,  your  Reverence,"  replied  the  beadle;  "but 
the  young  woman  had  eat  nought  to-day,  and  soa  Measter 
Tummas  did  set  down  a  drap  of  drink  and  a  morsel,  to  be 
sure." 

"  Thomas  was  very  right,  Mr.  Stubbs ;  and  what  has  be- 
come of  the  other  most  unfortunate  being  ?  " 

"  Why,"  replied  Mr.  Stubbs,  "I  did  think  the  sight  on 
her  would  but  vex  your  Reverence,  and  soa  I  did  let  her  go 
her  ways  back  to  her  mother,  who  is  in  trouble  in  the  next 
parish." 

"  In  trouble  !  that  signifies  in  prison,  I  suppose  ?  "  said 
Mr.  Staunton. 

"  Ay,  truly  ;  something  like  it,  an  it  like  your  Reverence.'* 

"  Wretched,  unhaj)py,  incorrigible  woman  ! "  said  the 
clergyman.  "  And  what  sort  of  person  is  this  companion  of 
hers  ?  " 

"  Why,  decent  enow,  an  it  like  your  Reverence,"  said 
Stubbs;  "for  aught  I  sees  of  her,  there's  no  harm  of  her, 
and  she  says  she  has  cash  enow  to  carry  her  out  of  the 
county." 

"  Cash  !  that  is  always  what  you  think  of,  Stubbs.  But 
has  she  sense  ? — has  she  her  wits  ? — has  she  the  capacity  of 
taking  care  of  herself  ?  " 

"Why,  your  Reverence,"  replied  Stubbs,  "I  cannot  just 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  319 

say :  I  will  be  sworn  she  was  not  born  at  Witt-ham  ;*  for 
Gaffer  Gibbs  looked  at  her  all  the  time  of  service,  and  he  says 
she  could  not  turn  up  a  single  lesson  like  a  Christian,  even 
though  she  had  Madge  Murdockson  to  help  her  ;  but  then, 
as  to  fending  for  hersell,  why,  she's  a  bit  of  a  Scotchwoman, 
you]-  Keverence,  and  they  say  the  worst  donnot  of  them  can 
look  out  for  their  own  turn  ;  and  she  is  decently  put  on  enow, 
and  not  bechounched  like  t'other," 

"  Send  her  in  here,  then,  and  do  you  remain  below,  Mr. 
Stubbs." 

This  colloquy  had  engaged  Jeanie's  attention  so  deeply  that 
it  was  not  until  it  was  over  that  she  observed  that  the  sashed 
door,  Avhich,  we  have  said,  led  from  the  ante-room  into  the 
garden,  was  opened,  and  that  there  entered,  or  rather  was 
borne  in  by  two  assistants,  a  young  man  of  a  very  pale  and 
sickly  appearance,  whom  they  lifted  to  the  nearest  couch,  and 
placed  there,  as  if  to  recover  from  the  fatigue  of  an  unusual 
exertion.  Just  as  they  were  making  this  arrangement,  Stubbs 
came  out  of  the  library  and  summoned  Jeanie  to  enter  it.  She 
obeyed  him,  not  without  tremor ;  for,  besides  the  novelty  of 
the  situation  to  a  girl  of  her  secluded  habits,  she  felt  also  as  if 
the  successful  prosecution  of  her  journey  was  to  depend  upon 
the  impression  she  should  be  able  to  make  on  Mr.  Staunton. 

It  is  true,  it  was  difficult  to  suppose  on  what  pretext  a  person 
travelling  on  her  own  business,  and  at  her  own  charge,  could 
be  interrupted  upon  her  route.  But  the  violent  detention  she 
had  already  undergone  was  sufficient  to  show  that  there  existed 
persons  at  no  great  distance  who  had  the  interest,  the  inclina- 
tion, and  the  audacity  forcibly  to  stop  her  journey,  and  she 
felt  the  necessity  of  having  some  countenance  and  protection, 
at  least  till  she  should  get  beyond  their  reach.  While  these 
things  passed  through  her  mind,  much  faster  than  our  pen  and 
ink  can  record,  or  even  the  reader's  eye  collect  the  meaning 
of  its  traces,  Jeanie  found  herself  in  a  handsome  library,  and 
in  presence  of  the  Rector  of  Willingham.  The  well-furnished 
presses  and  shelves  which  surrounded  the  large  and  handsome 
apartment  contained  more  books  than  Jeanie  imagined  existed 
in  the  world,  being  accustomed  to  consider  as  an  extensive  collec- 
tion two  fir  shelves,  each  about  three  feet  long,  which  contained 
her  father's  treasured  volumes,  the  whole  jiith  and  marrow,  as 
he  used  sometimes  to  boast,  of  modern  divinity.  An  orrery, 
globes,  a  telescope,  and  some  other  scientific  implements  con- 
veyed to  Jeanie  an  impression  of  admiration  and  wonder,  not 

*  A  proverbial  and  punmng  expression  in  that  county,  to  intimate  that  a  person 
ia  not  very  clever. 


330  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

nnmixed  with  fear  ;  for,  in  her  ignorant  apprehension,  they 
seemed  rather  adapted  for  magical  purposes  than  any  other  ; 
and  a  few  stuffed  animals  (as  the  Rector  was  fond  of  natural 
history)  added  to  the  impressive  character  of  the  apartment. 

Mr.  Staunton  spoke  to  her  with  great  mildness.  He  ob- 
served that,  although  her  appearance  at  church  had  been 
uncommon,  and  in  strange,  and,  he  must  add,  discreditable  so- 
ciety, and  calculated,  upon  the  whole,  to  disturb  the  congre- 
gation during  divine  worship,  he  wished,  nevertheless,  to  hear 
her  own  account  of  herself  before  taking  any  steps  which  his 
duty  might  seem  to  demand.  He  was  a  justice  of  peace,  he 
informed  her,  as  well  as  a  clergyman, 

"His  honor  [for  she  would  not  say  his  reverence]  was  very 
civil  and  kind,"  was  all  that  poor  Jeanie  could  at  tlrst  bring 
out. 

"Who  are  you,  young  woman?"  said  the  clergyman, 
more  peremptorily,  '''and  what  do  you  do  in  this  country,  and 
in  such  coaipany  ?     We  allow  no  strollers  or  vagrants  here.^' 

"I  am  not  a  vagrant  or  a  stroller,  sir,"  said  Jeanie,  a  lit- 
tle roused  by  the  supposition.  "I  am  a  decent  Scotch  lass, 
travelling  through  the  land  on  my  own  business  and  my  own 
expenses  ;  and  I  was  so  unhappy  as  to  fall  in  with  bad  com- 
pany, and  was  stopped  a'  night  on  my  journey.  And  this 
puir  creature,  who  is  something  light-headed,  let  me  out  in 
the  morning." 

"Bad  company!"  said  the  clergyman.  "I  am  afraid, 
young  woman,  you  have  not  been  sufficiently  anxious  to  avoid 
them." 

"Indeed,  sir,"  returned  Jeanie,  "I  have  been  brought  up 
to  shun  evil  communication.  But  these  wicked  people  were 
thieves,  and  stopped  me  by  violence  and  mastery." 

"Thieves!"  said  Mr.  Staunton;  "  then  you  charge  them 
with  robbery,  I  suppose  ?" 

"  No,  sir  ;  they  did  not  take  so  much  as  a  boddle  from  me," 
answered  Jeanie  ;  "nor  did  they  use  me  ill,  otherwise  than 
by  confining  me." 

The  clergyman  inquired  into  the  particulars  of  her  adven- 
ture, which  she  told  him  from  point  to  point. 

"  This  is  an  extraordinary,  and  not  a  very  probable,  tale, 
young  woman,"  resumed  Mr.  Staunton.  "Here  has  been, 
according  to  your  account,  a  great  violence  committed  with- 
out any  adequate  motive.  Are  you  aware  of  the  law  of  this 
country— that  if  you  lodge  this  charge  you  will  be  bound  over 
to  prosecute  this  gang  ?  " 

Jeanie  did  not  understand  him,  and  he  explained  that  the 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  821 

English  law,  in  addition  to  the  inconvenience  sustained  by 
persons  who  have  been  robbed  or  injured,  has  the  goodness  to 
intrust  to  them  the  care  and  the  expense  of  appearing  as  prose- 
cutors. 

Jeanie  said,  "that  her  business  at  London  was  express  ; 
all  she  wanted  was,  that  any  gentleman  would,  out  of  Chris- 
tian charity,  protect  her  to  some  town  where  she  could  hire 
horses  and  a  guide  ;  and,  finally,"  she  thought,  "  it  would  be 
her  father's  mind  that  she  was  not  free  to  give  testimony  in 
an  English  court  of  justice,  as  the  land  was  not  under  a  direct 
Gospel  dispensation." 

Mr.  Staunton  stared  a  little,  and  asked  if  her  father  was  a 
Quaker. 

''God  forbid,  sir,"  said  Jeanie.  ^'He  is  nae  schismatic 
nor  sectary,  nor  ever  treated  for  sic  black  commodities  as 
theirs,  and  that's  weel  kenn'd  o'  him." 

"And  what  is  his  name,  pray  ?"  said  Mr.  Staunton. 

"  David  Deans,  sir,  the  cow-feeder  at  St.  Leonard's  Craigs, 
near  Edinburgh." 

A  deep  groan  from  the  ante-room  prevented  the  Eectoi 
from  replying,  and,  exclaiming.  "Good  God  !  that  unhappy 
boy  ! "  he  left  Jeanie  alone,  and  hastened  into  the  outer  apart- 
ment. 

Some  noise  and  bustle  was  heard,  but  no  one  entered  the 
library  for  the  best  part  of  an  hour. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

Fantastic  passions'  maddening  brawl ! 
And  shame  and  terror  over  all ! 
Deeds  to  be  hid  which  were  not  hid, 
Which,  all  confused,  I  covild  not  know 
Whether  I  suffer 'd  or  I  did, 
For  all  seem'd  guilt,  remorse,  or  woe  ; 
My  own,  or  others,  still  the  same 
Life-stifling  fear,  soul-stifling  shame. 

Coleridge. 

DuHiNG  tlie  interval  while  she  was  thus  left  alone,  Jeanie 
anxiously  revolved  in  her  mind  what  course  Avas  best  for  her 
to  pursue.  She  was  impatient  to  continue  her  journey,  yet 
she  feared  she  could  not  safely  adventure  to  do  so  while  the 
old  hag  and  her  assistants  were  in  the  neighborhood,  witliout 
risking  a  repetition  of  their  violence.  She  thought  she  could 
collect  from  the  conversation  which  she  had  partly  overheard, 
and  also  from  the  wild  confessions  of  Madge  Wildfire,  that 
her  mother  had  a  deep  and  revengeful  motive  for  obstructing 
her  journey  if  possible.  And  from  whom  could  she  hope  for 
assistance  if  not  from  Mr.  Staunton  ?  His  whole  appear- 
ance and  demeanor  seemed  to  encourage  her  hopes.  His 
features  were  handsome,  though  marked  with  a  deep  cast  of 
melancholy  ;  his  tone  and  language  were  gentle  and  encour- 
aging ;  and,  as  he  had  served  in  the  army  for  several  years 
during  his  youth,  his  air  retained  that  easy  frankness  which 
is  peculiar  to  the  profession  of  arms.  He  wa  s,  besides,  a  min- 
ister of  the  Gospel ;  and  although  a  worshipper,  according  to 
Jeanie's  notions,  in  the  court  of  the  Gentiles,  and  so  be- 
nighted as  to  wear  a  surplice  ;  although  he  read  the  Common 
Prayer,  and  wrote  down  every  word  of  his  sermon  before  de- 
livering it ;  and  although  he  was,  moreover,  in  strength  of 
lungs,  as  well  as  pith  and  marrow  of  doctrine,  vastly  inferior 
to  Boanerges  Stormheaven,  Jeanie  still  thouglit  he  must  be  a 
very  different  person  from  Curate  Kiltstoup  and  other  pre- 
latical  divines  of  her  father's  earlier  days,  who  used  to  get 
drunk  in  their  canonical  dress,  and  hound  out  the  dragoons 
against  the  wandering  Cameronians.  The  house  seemed  to 
be  iu  some  disturbance,  but  as  she  could  not  suppose  she  was 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  338 

altogether  forgotten,  she  thought  it  better  to  remain  qniet  in 
the  apartment  where  she  had  been  left  till  some  one  should 
take  notice  of  her. 

The  first  who  entered  was,  to  her  no  small  delight,  one  of 
her  own  sex,  a  motherly-looking  aged  person  of  a  housekeeper. 
To  her  Jeanie  explained  her  situation  in  a  few  words,  and 
begged  her  assistance. 

The  dignity  of  a  housekeeper  did  not  encourage  toomnch 
familiarity  Avdth  a  person  who  was  at  the  rectory  on  justice  bus- 
iness, and  whose  character  might  seem  in  her  eyes  somewhat 
precarious  ;  but  she  was  civil,  although  distant. 

"  Her  young  master,'^  she  said,  "  had  had  a  bad  accident  by 
a  fall  from  his  horse,  which  made  him  liable  to  faintingfits  ; 
he  had  been  taken  very  ill  just  now,  and  it  was  impossible  his 
Eeverence  could  see  Jeanie  for  some  time  ;  but  that  she  need 
not  fear  his  doing  all  that  was  just  and  proper  in  her  behalf 
the  instant  he  could  get  her  business  attended  to."  She  con- 
cluded by  offering  to  show  Jeanie  a  room,  where  she  might 
remain  till  his  Eeverence  was  at  leisure. 

Our  heroine  took  the  opportunity  to  request  the  means  of 
adjusting  and  changing  her  dress. 

The  housekeeper,  in  whose  estimation  order  and  cleanli- 
ness rankedjhigh  among  personal  virtues,  gladly  complied  with 
a  request  so  reasonable  ;  and  the  change  of  dress  which  Jean- 
ie's  bundle  furnished  made  so  important  an  improvement  in 
her  appearance,  that  the  old  lady  hardly  knew  the  soiled  and 
disordered  traveller,  whose  attire  showed  the  violence  she  had 
sustained,  in  the  neat,  clean,  quiet-looking  little  Scotchwoman 
who  now  stood  before  her.  Encouraged  by  such  a  favorable 
alteration  in  her  appearance,  Mrs.  Dalton  ventured  to  invite 
Jeanie  to  partake  of  her  dinner,  and  was  equally  j)leased  with 
the  decent  propriety  of  her  conduct  during  that  meal. 

"  Thou  canst  read  this  book,  canst  thou,  young  woman  ?" 
said  the  old  lady,  when  their  meal  was  concluded,  laying  her 
hand  upon  a  large  Bible. 

"  I  hope  sae,  madam,"  said  Jeanie,  surprised  at  the  ques- 
tion ;  "my  father  wad  hae  wanted  mony  a  thing  ere  I  had 
wanted  tJuit  schuling." 

"  The  better  sign  of  him,  young  woman.  There  are  men 
here,  well-to-pass  in  the  world,  would  not  want  their  share  of 
a  Leicester  plover,  and  that's  a  bag-pudding,  if  fasting  for 
three  hours  would  make  all  their  poor  children  read  the  Bible 
from  end  to  end.  Take  thou  the  book,  then,  for  my  eyes  are 
something  dazed,  and  read  where  thou  listest :  it's  the  only 
book  thou  canst  not  happen  wrong  in." 


324  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

Jeanie  was  at  first  tempted  to  turn  up  the  parable  of  the 
good  Samaritan,  but  her  conscience  checked  her,  as  if  it  were 
a  use  of  Scripture  not  for  her  own  edification,  but  to  work 
upon  the  mind  of  others  for  the  relief  of  her  worldly  afflictions  ; 
and  under  this  scrupulous  sense  of  duty  she  selected,  in  pref- 
erence, a  chapter  of  the  prophet  Isaiah,  and  read  it,  notwith- 
standing her  northern  accent  and  tone,  with  a  devout  propriety 
which  greatly  edified  Mrs.  Dalton. 

"  Ah,"  she  said,  "  an  all  Scotchwomen  were  sic  as  thou  ! 
But  it  was  our  luck  to  get  born  devils  of  thy  country,  I  think, 
every  one  worse  than  t'other.  If  thou  knowest  of  any  tidy 
lass  like  thysell,  that  wanted  a  place,  and  could  bring  a  good 
character,  and  would  not  go  laiking  about  to  wakes  and  fairs, 
and  wore  shoes  and  stockings  all  the  day  round — why,  I'll  not 
say  but  we  might  find  room  for  her  at  the  rectory.  Hast  no 
cousin  or  sister,  lass,  that  such  an  offer  would  suit  ?  " 

This  was  touching  upon  a  sore  point,  but  Jeanie  was  spared 
the  pain  of  replying  by  the  entrance  of  the  same  man-servant 
she  had  seen  before. 

"  Measter  wishes  to  see  the  young  woman  from  Scotland," 
was  Tummas's  address. 

"  Gro  to  his  Eeverence,  my  dear,  as  fast  as  you  can,  and 
tell  him  all  your  story  ;  his  Reverence  is  a  kind  man,"  said 
Mrs.  Dalton.  "  I  will  fold  down  the  leaf,  and  make  you  a 
cup  of  tea,  with  some  nice  muffin,  against  you  come  down, 
and  that's  what  you  seldom  see  in  Scotland,  girl." 

"  Measter's  waiting  for  the  young  woman,"  said  Tummas, 
impatiently. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Jack  Sauce,  and  what  is  your  business  to  put 
in  your  oar  ?  And  how  often  must  I  tell  you  to  call  Mr. 
Staunton  his  Eeverence,  seeing  as  he  is  a  dignified  clergyman, 
and  not  be  meastering,  meastering  him,  as  if  he  were  a  little 
petty  squire  ?  " 

As  Jeanie  was  now  at  the  door,  and  ready  to  accompany 
Tummas,  the  footman  said  nothing  till  he  got  into  the  passage, 
when  he  muttered,  "  There  are  moe  masters  than  one  in  this 
house,  and  I  think  we  shall  have  a  mistress  too,  an  Dame  Dal- 
ton carries  it  thus." 

Tummas  led  the  way  through  a  more  intricate  range  of 
passages  than  Jeanie  had  yet  threaded,  and  ushered  her  into 
an  apartment  which  was  darkened  by  the  closing  of  most  of 
the  window-shutters,  and  in  which  was  a  bed  with  the  curtains 
partly  drawn. 

"  Here  is  the  young  woman,  sir,"  said  Tummas. 

"  Very  well,"  said  a  voice  from  the  bed,  but  not  that  of 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  335 

his  Eeverence  ;  ''be  ready  to  answer  the  bell,  and  leave  the 
room/' 

"  There  is  some  mistake/^  said  Jeanie,  confounded  at  find- 
ing herself  in  the  apartment  of  an  invalid  ;  "  the  servant  told 
me  that  the  minister " 

"  Don^t  trouble  yourself,"  said  the  invalid,  ''there  is  no 
mistake.  I  know  more  of  your  affairs  than  my  father,  and  I 
can  manage  them  better.  Leave  the  room,  Tom/*  The  serv- 
ant obeyed.  "  We  must  not,  "^  said  the  invalid,  "lose  time,  when 
we  have  little  to  lose.     Open  the  shutter  of  that  window." 

She  did  so,  and  as  he  drew  aside  the  curtain  of  his  bed  the 
light  fell  on  his  pale  countenance,  as,  turbaued  with  bandages 
and  dressed  in  a  nightgown,  he  lay,  seemingly  exhausted,  upon 
the  bed. 

"  Look  at  me,"  he  said,  "  Jeanie  Deans  ;  can  you  not  recol- 
lect me  ?  " 

"  No,  sir,"  said  she,  full  of  surprise.  "  I  was  never  in  this 
country  before." 

"But  I  may  have  been  in  yours.  Think — recollect.  I 
should  faint  did  I  name  the  name  you  are  most  dearly  bound 
to  loathe  and  to  detest.     Think — remember  ! " 

A  terrible  recollection  flashed  on  Jeanie,  which  every  tone 
of  the  speaker  confirmed,  and  which  his  next  words  rendered 
certainty. 

"  Be  composed — remember  Muschat's  Cairn  and  the  moon- 
light night ! " 

Jeanie  sunk  down  on  a  chair,  with  clasped  hands,  and  gasped 
in  agony. 

"  Yes,  here  I  lie,"  he  said,  "  like  a  crushed  snake,  writhing 
with  impatience  at  my  incapacity  of  motion  ;  here  I  lie,  when 
I  ought  to  have  been  in  Edinburgh,  trying  every  means  to  save 
a  life  that  is  dearer  to  me  than  my  own.  How  is  your  sister  ? 
how  fares  it  with  her  ? — condemned  to  death,  I  know  it,  by 
this  time !  0,  the  horse  that  carried  me  safely  on  a  thousand 
errands  of  folly  and  wickedness — that  he  should  have  broke 
down  with  me  on  the  only  good  mission  I  have  undertaken  for 
years  !  But  I  must  rein  in  my  passion ;  my  frame  cannot 
endure  it,  and  I  have  much  to  say.  Give  me  some  of  the 
cordial  which  stands  on  that  table.  Why  do  you  tremble  ? 
But  you  have  too  good  cause.     Let  it  stand  ;  I  need  it  not," 

Jeanie,  however  reluctant,  approached  him  with  the  cup 
into  which  she  had  poured  the  draught,  and  could  not  forbear 
saying,  "  There  is  a  cordial  for  the  mind,  sir,  if  the  wicked  will 
turn  from  their  transgressions  and  seek  to  the  Physician  of 
souls." 


336  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

"Silence!"  he  said,  sternly  ;  "and  yet  I  thank  you.  But 
tell  me,  and  lose  no  time  in  doing  so,  what  you  are  doing  in 
this  country  ?  Remember,  though  I  have  been  your  sister's 
worst  enemy,  yet  I  will  serve  her  with  the  best  of  my  blood, 
and  I  will  serve  you  for  her  sake  ;  and  no  one  can  serve  you  to 
such  purpose,  for  no  one  can  know  the  circumstances  so  well ; 
so  speak  without  fear." 

"  I  am  not  afraid,  sir,"  said  Jeanie,  collecting  her  spirits. 
"  I  trust  in  God  ;  and  if  it  pleases  Him  to  redeem  my  sister's 
captivity,  it  is  all  I  seek,  whosoever  be  the  instrument.  But, 
sir,  to  be  plain  with  you,  I  dare  not  use  your  counsel,  unless 
I  were  enabled  to  see  that  it  accords  with  the  law  which  I 
must  rely  upon." 

"•'  The  devil  take  the  Puritan  ! "  cried  George  Staunton,  for 
so  we  must  now  call  him.  "  I  beg  your  pardon  ;  but  I  am 
naturally  impatient,  and  you  drive  me  mad  !  What  harm 
can  it  possibly  do  you  to  tell  me  in  what  situation  your  sister 
stands,  and  your  own  expectations  of  being  able  to  assist  her? 
It  is  time  enough  to  refuse  my  advice  when  I  offer  any  which 
you  may  think  improper.  I  speak  calmly  to  you,  though  'tis 
against  my  nature  ;  but  don't  urge  me  to  impatience  :  it  will 
only  render  me  incapable  of  serving  Effie." 

There  was  in  the  looks  and  words  of  this  unhappy  young 
man  a  sort  of  restrained  eagerness  and  impetuosity,  which 
seemed  to  prey  upon  itself,  as  the  impatience  of  a  fiery  steed 
fatigues  itself  with  churning  upon  the  bit.  After  a  moment's 
consideration,  it  occurred  to  Jeanie  that  she  was  not  entitled 
to  withhold  from  him,  whether  on  her  sister's  account  or  her 
own,  the  account  of  the  fatal  consequences  of  the  crime 
which  he  had  committed,  nor  to  reject  such  advice,  being  in 
itself  lawf  al  and  innocent,  as  he  might  be  able  to  suggest  in 
the  way  of  remedy.  Accordingly,  in  as  few  words  as  she 
could  express  it,  she  told  the  history  of  her  sister's  trial  and 
condemnation,  and  of  her  own  journey  as  far  as  Newark. 
He  appeared  to  listen  in  the  utmost  agony  of  mind,  yet  re- 
pressed every  violent  symptom  of  emotion,  whether  by  gesture 
or  sound,  which  might  have  interrupted  the  speaker,  and, 
stretched  on  his  couc'i  like  the  Mexican  monarch  on  his  bed 
of  live  coals,  only  the  contortions  of  his  cheek,  and  the 
quivering  of  his  limbs,  gave  indication  of  his  sufferings.  To 
much  of  what  she  said  he  listened  with  stifled  groans,  as  if 
he  were  only  hearing  those  miseries  confirmed  whose  fatal 
reality  he  had  known  before  ;  but  when  she  pursued  her  tale 
through  the  circumstances  which  had  interrupted  her  journey, 
extreme  surprise  and  earnest  attention  appeared  to  succeed 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  327 

to  the  symptoms  of  remorse  which  he  had  before  exhibited. 
He  questioned  Jeanie  closely  concerning  the  appearance  of 
the  two  men,  and  the  conversation  which  she  had  overheard 
between  the  taller  of  them  and  the  woman. 

When  Jeanie  mentioned  the  old  woman  having  allnded  to 
her  foster-son — '^'It  is  too  true,"  he  said ;  "and  the  source 
from  which  I  derived  food,  when  an  infant,  must  have  com- 
municated to  me  the  wretched — the  fated — propensity  to  vices 
that  were  strangers  in  my  own  family.     But  go  on." 

Jeanie  passed  slightly  over  her  journey  in  company  with 
Madge,  having  no  inclination  to  repeat  what  might  be  the  ef- 
fect of  mere  raving  on  the  part  of  her  companion,  and  there- 
fore her  tale  was  now  closed. 

Young  Staunton  lay  for  a  moment  in  profound  meditation, 
and  at  length  spoke  with  more  composure  than  he  had  yet 
displayed  during  their  interview.  "  You  are  a  sensible,  as 
well  as  a  good,  young  woman,  Jeanie  Deans,  and  I  will  tell  you 
more  of  my  story  tlian  I  have  told  to  any  one.  Story  did  I 
call  it  ?  it  is  a  tissue  of  folly,  guilt,  and  misery.  But  take 
notice,  I  do  it  because  I  desire  your  confidence  in  return — that 
is,  that  you  will  act  in  this  dismal  matter  by  my  advice  and 
direction.     Therefore  do  I  speak." 

*'  I  will  do  what  is  fitting  for  a  sister,  and  a  daughter,  and 
a  Christian  woman  to  do,"  said  Jeanie  ;  "  but  do  not  tell  me 
any  of  your  secrets.  It  is  not  good  that  I  should  come  into 
your  counsel,  or  listen  to  the  doctrine  which  causeth  to  err." 

"  Simple  fool ! "  said  the  young  man.  "Look  at  me.  My 
head  is  not  horned,  my  foot  is  not  cloven,  my  hands  are  not 
garnished  with  talons  ;  and,  since  I  am  not  the  very  devil  him- 
self, what  interest  can  any  one  else  have  in  destroying  the  hopes 
with  which  you  comfort  or  fool  yourself  ?  Listen  to  me,  pa- 
tiently, and  3'OU  will  find  that,  when  you  have  heard  my  coun- 
sel, you  may  go  to  the  seventh  heaven  with  it  in  your  pocket, 
if  you  have  a  mind,  and  not  feel  yourself  an  ounce  heavier  in 
the  ascent." 

At  the  risk  of  being  somewhat  heavy,  as  explanations  usu- 
ally prove,  we  must  here  endeavor  to  combine  into  a  distinct 
narrative  information  which  the  invalid  communicated  in  a 
manner  at  once  too  circumstantial,  and  too  much  broken  by 
passion,  to  admit  of  our  giving  his  precise  words.  Part  of  it, 
indeed,  he  read  from  a  manuscript,  which  he  had  perhaps 
drawn  uj)  for  the  information  of  his  relations  after  his  de- 
cease. 

"  To  make  my  tale  short, — this  wretched  hag,  this  Margaret 
Murdockson,  was  the  wife  of  a  favorite  servant  of  my  father; 


328  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

she  had  been  my  nnrse  ;  her  husband  was  dead ;  she  resided  in 
a  cottage  near  this  place  ;  she  had  a  daughter  who  grew  up  and 
was  then  a  beautiful  but  very  giddy  girl ;  her  mother  endeav- 
ored to  promote  her  marriage  with  an  old  and  wealthy  churl 
in  the  neighborhood.  The  girl  saw  me  frequently ;  she  was 
familiar  with  me,  as  our  connection  seemed  to  permit,  and  I — 
in  a  word,  I  wronged  her  cruelly.  It  was  not  so  bad  as  your 
sister's  business,  but  it  was  sufficiently  villanous  ;  her  folly 
should  have  been  her  protection.  Soon  after  this  I  was  sent 
abroad.  To  do  my  father  justice,  if  I  have  turned  out  a 
fiend,  it  is  not  his  fault :  he  used  the  best  means.  When  I 
returned,  I  found  the  wretched  mother  and  daughter  had 
fallen  into  disgrace,  and  were  chased  from  this  country.  My 
deep  share  in  their  shame  and  misery  was  discovered  ;  my 
father  used  very  harsh  language ;  we  quarrelled.  I  left  his 
house,  and  led  a  life  of  strange  adventure,  resolving  never 
again  to  see  my  father  or  my  father's  home. 

"  And  now  comes  the  story !  Jeanie,  I  put  my  life  into  your 
hands,  and  not  only  my  own  life,  which,  God  knows,  is  not 
worth  saving,  but  the  happiness  of  a  respectable  old  man,  and 
the  honor  of  a  family  of  consideration.  My  love  of  low  so- 
ciety, as  such  propensities  as  I  was  cursed  with  are  usually 
termed,  was,  I  think,  of  an  uncommon  kind,  and  indicated  a 
nature  which,  if  not  depraved  by  early  debauchery,  would 
have  been  fit  for  better  things.  I  did  not  so  much  delight  in 
the  wild  revel,  the  low  humor,  the  unconfined  liberty  of  those 
with  whom  I  associated,  as  in  the  spirit  of  adventure,  pres- 
ence of  mind  in  peril,  and  sharpness  of  intellect  which  they 
displayed  in  prosecuting  their  maraudings  upon  the  revenue, 
or  similar  adventures. — Have  you  looked  round  this  rectory  ? 
Is  it  not  a  sweet  and  pleasant  retreat  ? " 

Jeanie,  alarmed  at  his  sudden  change  of  subject,  replied 
in  the  affirmative. 

"  Well  !  I  wish  it  had  been  ten  thousand  fathoms  under 
ground,  with  its  church  lands,  and  tithes,  and  all  that  belongs 
to  it  !  Had  it  not  been  for  this  cursed  rectory,  I  should  have 
been  permitted  to  follow  the  bent  of  my  own  inclinations  and 
the  profession  of  arms,  and  half  the  courage  and  address  that 
I  have  displayed  among  smugglers  and  deer-stealers  would 
have  secured  me  an  honorable  rank  among  my  contempora- 
ries. Why  did  I  not  go  abroad  when  I  left  this  house  ?  Why 
did  I  leave  it  at  all  ? — why  ?  But  it  came  to  that  point 
with  me  that  it  is  madness  to  look  back,  and  misery  to  look 
forward."" 

He  paused,  and  then  proceeded  with  more  composure. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  320 

"  The  chances  of  a  wandering  life  brought  me  nnhappily  to 
Scotland^  to  embroil  myself  in  worse  and  more  criminal  actions 
than  I  had  yet  been  concerned  in.  It  was  now  I  became  ac- 
quainted with  Wilson,  a  remarkable  man  in  his  station  of  life — 
quiet,  composed,  and  resolute,  firm  in  mind,  and  uncommon- 
ly strong  in  person,  gifted  with  a  sort  of  rough  eloquence 
which  raised  him  above  his  companions.     Hitherto  I  had  been 

As'dissolute  as  desperate,  yet  through  both 
Were  seen  some  sparkles  of  a  better  hope. 

But  it  was  this  man's  misfortune,  as  well  as  mine,  that,  not- 
withstanding the  difference  of  our  rank  and  education,  he 
acquired  an  extraordinary  and  fascinating  influence  over  me, 
which  I  can  only  account  for  by  the  calm  determination  of 
his  character  being  superior  to  the  less  sustained  impetuosity 
of  mine.  Where  he  led,  I  felt  myself  bound  to  follow  ;  and 
strange  was  the  courage  and  address  which  he  displayed  in  his 
pursuits.  While  I  was  engaged  in  desperate  adventures,  un- 
der so  strange  and  dangerous  a  preceptor,  I  became  acquainted 
with  your  unfortunate  sister  at  some  sports  of  the  young  peo- 
ple in  the  suburbs,  which  she  frequented  by  stealth  ;  and  her 
ruin  proved  an  interlude  to  the  tragic  scenes  in  which  I  was 
now  deeply  engaged.  Yet  this  let  me  say  :  the  villany  was 
not  premeditated,  and  I  was  firmly  resolved  to  do  her  all  the 
Justice  which  marriage  could  do,  so  soon  as  I  should  be  able 
to  extricate  myself  from  my  unhappy  course  of  life,  and  em- 
brace some  one  more  suited  to  my  birth.  I  had  wild  visions 
-^visions  of  conducting  her  as  if  to  some  poor  retreat,  and 
introducing  her  at  once  to  rank  and  fortune  she  never  dreamed 
of.  A  friend,  at  my  request,  attempted  a  negotiation  with 
my  father,  which  was  protracted  for  some  time,  and  renewed 
at  different  intervals.  At  length,  and  just  when  I  expected 
my  father's  pardon,  he  learned  by  some  means  or  other  my 
infamy,  painted  in  even  exaggerated  colors,  which  was,  God 
knows,  unnecessary.  He  wrote  me  a  letter — how  it  found  me 
out  I  know  not — enclosing  me  a  sum  of  money,  and  disowning 
me  forever.  I  became  desperate — I  became  frantic — I  readily 
joined  Wilson  in  a  perilous  smuggling  adventure  in  which  we 
miscarried,  and  was  willingly  blinded  by  his  logic  to  consider 
the  robbery  of  the  officer  of  the  customs  in  Fife  as  a  fair  and 
honorable  reprisal.  Hitherto  I  had  observed  a  certain  line 
in  my  criminality,  and  stood  free  of  assaults  upon  personal 
property,  but  now  I  felt  a  wild  pleasure  in  disgracing  myself 
as  much  as  possible. 

**  The  plunder  was  no  object  to  me.    I  abandoned  that  to 


330  WAVERLEY   NOVELS 

my  comrades,  and  only  asked  the  post  of  danger.  1  remem- 
ber well,  that  when  I  stood  with  my  drawn  sword  guarding 
the  door  while  they  committed  the  felony,  I  had  not  a  thought 
of  my  own  safety.  I  was  only  meditating  on  my  sense  of  sup- 
posed wrong  from  my  family,  my  impotent  thirst  of  venge- 
ance, and  how  it  would  sound  in  the  haughty  ears  of  the 
family  of  Willingham,  that  one  of  their  descendants,  and  the 
heir-apparent  of  their  honors^,  should  perish  by  the  hands 
of  the  hangman  for  robbing  a  Scottish  gauger  of  a  sum  not 
equal  to  one-iifth  part  of  the  money  I  had  in  my  pocket-book. 
We  were  taken  ;  I  expected  no  less.  We  were  condemned  ; 
that  also  I  looked  for.  But  death,  as  he  approached  nearer, 
looked  grimly  ;  and  the  recollection  of  your  sisters  destitute 
condition  determined  me  on  an  effort  to  save  my  life.  I  for- 
got to  tell  you  that  in  Edinburgh  I  again  met  the  woman 
Murdockson  and  her  daughter.  >She  had  followed  the  camp 
when  young,  and  had  now,  under  pretence  of  a  trifling  traf- 
fic, resumed  predatory  habits,  with  which  she  had  already 
been  too  familiar.  Our  first  meeting  was  stormy  ;  but  I  was 
liberal  of  what  money  I  had,  and  she  forgot,  or  seemed  to  for- 
get, the  injury  her  daughter  had  received.  The  unfortunate 
girl  lierself  seemed  hardly  even  to  know  her  seducer,  far  less 
to  retain  any  sense  of  the  injury  she  had  received.  Her  mind 
is  totally  alienated,  which,  according  to  her  mother's  account, 
is  sometimes  the  consequence  of  an  unfavorable  confinement. 
But  it  was  my  doing.  Here  was  another  stone  knitted  round 
my  neck  to  sink  me  into  the  pit  of  perdition.  Every  look, 
every  word  of  this  poor  creature,  her  false  spirits,  her  imper- 
fect recollections,  her  allusions  to  things  which  she  had  for- 
gotten, but  which  were  recorded  in  my  conscience,  were  stabs 
of  a  poniard.  Stabs  did  I  say  ?  they  were  tearing  with  hot 
pincers,  and  scalding  the  raw  wound  with  burning  sulphur ; 
they  were  to  be  endured,  however,  and  they  were  endured.  I 
return  to  my  prison  thoughts. 

"  It  was  not  the  least  miserable  of  them  that  your  sister's 
time  approached.  I  knew  her  dread  of  you  and  of  her  father. 
She  often  said  she  would  die  a  thousand  deaths  ere  you  should 
know  her  shame  ;  yet  her  confinement  must  be  provided  for. 
I  knew  this  woman  Murdockson  M^as  an  infernal  hag,  but  I 
thought  she  loved  me,  and  that  money  would  make  her  true. 
She  had  procured  a  file  for  Wilson  and  a  spring-saw  for  me  ; 
and  she  undertook  readily  to  take  charge  of  Effie  during  her 
illness,  in  which  she  had  skill  enough  to  give  the  necessary 
assistance.  I  gave  her  the  money  which  my  father  had  sent 
me.     It  was  settled  that  she  should  receive  Effie  into  her  house 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  331 

in  the  meantime,  and  wait  for  further  directions  from  me, 
when  I  should  effect  my  escape.  I  communicated  this  pur- 
pose, and  recommended  the  okl  hag  to  poor  Effie  by  a  letter, 
in  which  I  recollect  that  I  endeavored  to  support  the  charac- 
ter of  Macheath  under  condemnation — a  fine,  gay,  bold-faced 
ruffian,  who  is  game  to  the  last.  Such,  and  so  wretchedly 
poor,  was  my  ambition  !  Yet  I  had  resolved  to  forsake  the 
courses  I  had  been  engaged  in,  should  I  be  so  fortunate  as  to 
escape  the  gibbet.  My  design  was  to  marry  your  sister  and 
go  over  to  the  West  Indies.  I  had  still  a  considerable  sum 
of  money  left,  and  I  trusted  to  be  able,  in  one  way  or  other, 
to  provide  for  myself  and  my  wife. 

"  We  made  the  attempt  to  escape,  and  by  the  obstinacy  of 
Wilson,  who  insisted  upon  going  first,  it  totally  miscarried. 
The  undaunted  and  self-denied  manner  in  which  he  sacrificed 
himself  to  redeem  his  error,  and  accomplish  my  escape  from 
the  Tolbooth  Church,  you  must  have  heard  of  :  all  Scotland 
rang  with  it.  It  was  a  gallant  and  extraordinary  deed.  All 
men  spoke  of  it ;  all  men,  even  those  who  most  condemned  the 
habits  and  crimes  of  this  self-devoted  man,  praised  the  heroism 
of  his  friendship.  I  have  many  vices,  but  cowardice  or  want 
of  gratitude  are  none  of  the  number.  I  resolved  to  requite 
his  generosity,  and  even  your  sister's  safety  became  a  second- 
ary consideration  with  me  for  the  time.  To  effect  Wilson's 
liberation  was  my  principal  object,  and  I  doubted  not  to  find 
the  means. 

"^  Yet  I  did  not  forget  Effie  neither.  The  bloodhounds 
of  the  law  were  so  close  after  me,  that  I  dared  not  trust  my- 
self near  any  of  my  old  haunts  ;  but  old  Murdockson  met  me 
by  appointment,  and  informed  me  that  your  sister  had  hap- 
pily been  delivered  of  a  boy.  I  charged  the  hag  to  keep  her 
patient's  mind  easy,  and  let  her  want  for  nothing  that  money 
could  purchase,  and  I  retreated  to  Fife,  where,  among  my  old 
associates  of  Wilson's  gang,  I  hid  myself  in  those  places  of 
concealment  where  the  men  engaged  in  that  desperate  trade 
are  used  to  find  security  for  themselves  and  their  uncustomed 
goods.  Men  who  are  disobedient  both  to  human  and  divine 
laws  are  not  always  insensible  to  the  claims  of  courage  and 
generosity.  We  were  assured  that  the  mob  of  Edinburgh, 
strongly  moved  with  the  hardships  of  Wilson's  situation  and 
the  gallantry  of  his  conduct,  would  back  any  bold  attempt 
that  might  be  made  to  rescue  him  even  from  the  foot  of  the 
gibbet.  Desperate  as  the  attempt  seemed,  ujjon  my  declaring 
myself  ready  to  lead  the  onset  on  the  guard,  I  found  no  want 
of  followers  who  engaged  to  stand  by  me,  and  returned  to 


832  WAVEBLEY  NOVELS 

Lothian,  soon  joined  by  some  steady  associates,  prepared  to 
act  whenever  the  occasion  might  require. 

"  I  have  no  doubt  I  should  have  rescued  him  from  the  very 
noose  that  dangled  over  his  head,"  he  continued,  with  anima- 
tion, which  seemed  a  flash  of  the  interest  which  he  had  taken  in 
such  exploits  ;  "  but  among  other  precautions,  the  magistrates 
had  taken  one — suggested,  as  we  afterwards  learned,  by  the 
unhappy  wretch  Porteous — which  effectually  disconcerted  my 
measures.  They  anticipated  by  half  an  hour  the  ordinary 
period  for  execution  ;  and,  as  it  had  been  resolved  among  us 
that,  for  fear  of  observation  from  the  officers  of  justice,  we 
should  not  show  ourselves  upon  the  street  until  the  time  of 
action  approached,  it  followed  that  all  was  over  before  our 
attempt  at  a  rescue  commenced.  It  did  commence,  however, 
and  I  gained  the  scaffold  and  cut  the  rope  with  my  own  hand. 
It  was  too  late  !  The  bold,  stout-hearted,  generous  criminal 
was  no  more,  and  vengeance  was  all  that  remained  to  us — a 
vengeance,  as  I  then  tliought,  doubly  due  from  my  hand,  to 
whom  Wilson  had  given  life  and  liberty  when  he  could  as 
easily  liave  secured  his  own." 

"  0,  sir,"  said  Jeanie,  "did  the  Scripture  never  come  into 
your  mind,  '  Vengeance  is  mine,  and  I  will  repay  it  ?'" 

"  Scripture  !  Why,  I  had  not  opened  a  Bible  for  five 
years,"  answered  Staunton. 

"  Wae's  me,  sirs,"  said  Jeanie,  "and  a  minister's  son 
too!" 

"It  is  natural  for  you  to  say  so  ;  yet  do  not  interrupt  me, 
but  let  me  finish  my  most  accursed  history.  The  beast.  Por- 
teous, who  kept  firing  on  the  people  long  after  it  had  ceased 
to  be  necessary,  became  the  object  of  their  hatred  for  having 
overdone  his  duty,  and  of  mine  for  having  done  it  too  well. 
We — ^that  is,  I  and  the  other  determined  friends  of  Wilson — 
reso]  ved  to  be  avenged  ;  but  caution  was  necessary.  I  thought 
I  had  been  marked  by  one  of  the  officers,  and  therefore  con- 
tinued to  lurk  about  the  vicinity  of  Edinburgh,  but  without 
daring  to  venture  within  the  walls.  At  length  I  visited,  at  the 
hazard  of  my  life,  the  place  where  I  hoped  to  find  my  future 
wife  and  my  son  ;  they  were  both  gone.  Dame  Murdockson  in- 
formed me  that,  so  soon  as  Effie  heard  of  the  miscarriage  of 
the  attempt  to  rescue  Wilson,  and  the  hot  pursuit  after  me, 
she  fell  into  a  brain  fever  ;  and  that,  being  one  day  obliged  to 
go  out  on  some  necessary  business  and  leave  her  alone,  she  had 
taken  that  opportunity  to  escape,  and  she  had  not  seen  her 
since.  I  loaded  her  with  reproaches,  to  which  she  listened 
with  the  most  provoking  and  callous  composure ;  for  it  is  one 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  338 

of  her  attributes  that,  violent  and  fierce  as  she  is  upon  most 
occasions,  there  are  some  in  whi'ch  she  shows  the  most  imper- 
turbable calmness.  I  threatened  her  with  justice  ;  she  said  I 
had  more  reason  to  fear  justice  than  she  had.  I  felt  she  was 
right,  and  was  silenced,  I  threatened  her  with  vengeance  ; 
she  replied  in  nearly  the  same  words,  that,  to  judge  by  injuries 
received,  I  had  more  reason  to  fear  her  vengeance  than  she  to 
dread  mine.  She  was  again  right,  and  I  was  left  without  an 
answer.  I  flung  myself  from  her  in  indignation,  and  employed 
a  comrade  to  make  inquiry  in  tlie  neighborhood  of  St.  Leon- 
ard's concerning  your  sister  ;  but  ere  I  received  his  answer,  the 
opening  quest  of  a  well-scented  terrier  of  the  law  drove  me 
from  the  vicinity  of  Edinburgh  to  a  more  distant  and  secluded 
place  of  concealment.  A  secret  and  trusty  emissary  at  length 
brought  me  the  account  of  Porteous's  condemnation,  and  of 
your  sister's  imprisonment  on  a  criminal  charge  ;  thus  astound- 
ing one  of  mine  ears,  while  he  gratified  the  other. 

"  I  again  ventured  to  the  Pleasance — again  charged  Mur- 
dockson  with  treachery  to  the  unfortunate  Effie  and  her  child, 
though  I  could  conceive  no  reason,  save  that  of  appropriating 
the  whole  of  the  money  I  had  lodged  with  her.  Your  narra- 
tive throws  light  on  this,  and  shows  another  motive,  not  less 
powerful  because  less  evident — the  desire  of  wreaking  venge- 
ance on  the  seducer  of  her  daughter,  the  destroyer  at  once 
of  her  reason  and  reputation.  Great  God  !  how  I  wish  that, 
instead  of  the  revenge  she  made  choice  of,  she  had  delivered 
me  up  to  the  cord  ! " 

"  But  what  account  did  the  wretched  woman  give  of  EflBe 
and  the  bairn  ?  "  said  Jeanie,  who,  during  this  long  and  agi- 
tating narrative,  had  firmness  and  discernment  enough  to 
keep  her  eye  on  such  points  as  might  throw  light  on  her  sis- 
ter's misfortunes. 

''She  would  give  none,"  said  Staunton;  "she  said  the 
mother  made  a  moonlight  flitting  from  her  house,  with  the 
infant  in  her  arms  ;  that  she  had  never  seen  either  of  them 
since ;  that  the  lass  might  have  thrown  the  child  into  the 
North  Loch  or  the  Quarry  Holes,  for  what  she  knew,  and  it 
was  like  enough  she  had  done  so." 

"And  how  came  you  to  believe  that  she  did  not  speak  the 
fatal  truth  ?  "  said  Jeanie,  trembling. 

"  Because,  on  this  second  oc(5asion,  I  saw  her  daughter,  and 
I  understood  from  her  that,  in  fact,  the  child  had  been  re- 
moved or  destroyed  during  the  illness  of  the  mother.  But 
all  knowledge  to  be  got  from  her  is  so  uncertain  and  indirect, 
that  I  could  not  collect  any  further  circumstances.     Only  the 


334  WAVERLEY  XOVELS 

diabolical  character  of  old  Mnrdockson  makes  me  augur  the 
worst." 

"  The  last  account  agrees  with  that  given  by  my  poor  sis- 
ter,'' said  Jeanie  ;  "  but  gang  on  wi'  your  ain  tale,  sir." 

''  Of  this  I  am  certain,"  said  Staunton,  "thatEffie,  in  hei 
senses,  and  with  her  knowledge,  never  injured  living  creature. 
But  what  could  I  do  in  her  exculpation  ?  Nothing  ;  and  there- 
fore my  whole  thoughts  were  turned  towards  her  safety.  I 
was  under  the  cursed  necessity  of  suppressing  my  feelings  to- 
wards Mnrdockson  :  my  life  was  in  the  hag's  hand — that  I 
cared  not  for;  but  on  my  life  hung  that  of  your  sister.  I 
spoke  the  wretch  fair ;  I  appeared  to  confide  in  her  ;  and  to 
me,  so  far  as  I  was  personally  concerned,  she  gave  proofs  of 
extraordinary  fidelity.  I  was  at  first  uncertain  Avhat  measures 
I  ought  to  adopt  for  your  sister's  liberation,  when  the  general 
rage  excited  among  the  citizens  of  Edinburgh  on  account  of 
the  reprieve  of  Porteous  suggested  to  me  the  daring  idea  of 
forcing  the  jail,  and  at  once  carrying  off  your  sister  from  the 
clutches  of  the  law,  and  bringing  to  condign  punishment  a 
miscreant  who  had  tormented  the  unfortunate  Wilson  even 
in  the  hour  of  death,  as  if  he  had  been  a  wild  Indian  taken 
captive  by  a  hostile  tribe.  I  flung  myself  among  the  multi- 
tude in  the  moment  of  fermentation ;  so  did  oihers  among 
Wilson's  mates,  who  had,  like  me,  been  disappointed  in  the 
hope  of  glutting  their  eyes  with  Porteous's  execution.  All 
was  organized,  and  I  was  chosen  for  the  captain.  I  felt  not — 
I  do  not  now  feel — compunction  for  what  was  to  be  done,  and 
has  since  been  executed." 

''  0,  Grod  forgive  ye,  sir,  and  bring  ye  to  a  better  sense  of 
your  ways  ! "  exclaimed  Jeanie,  in  horror  at  the  avowal  of  such 
violent  sentiments. 

''Amen,"  replied  Staunton,  "  if  my  sentiments  are  wrong. 
But  I  repeat  that,  although  willing  to  aid  the  deed,  I  could 
have  wished  them  to  have  chosen  another  leader ;  because  I 
foresaw  that  the  great  and  general  duty  of  the  night  would 
interfere  with  the  assistance  which  I  proposed  to  render  Effie. 
I  gave  a  commission,  however,  to  a  trusty  friend  to  protect 
her  to  a  place  of  safety,  so  soon  as  the  fatal  procession  had  left 
the  jail.  But  for  no  persuasions  which  I  could  use  in  the 
hurry  of  the  moment,  or  which  my  comrade  employed  at  more 
length,  after  the  mob  had  taken  a  different  direction,  could 
the  unfortunate  girl  be  prevailed  upon  to  leave  the  prison. 
His  arguments  were  all  wasted  upon  the  infatuated  victim, 
and  he  was  obliged  to  leave  her  in  order  to  attend  to  his  own 
safety.     Such  was  his  account;  but  perhaps  he  persevered 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  335 

less  steadily  in  his  attempt  to  persuade  her  than  I  wotild  have 
done." 

"  EflBe  was  right  to  remain,"  said  Jeanie  ;  "and  I  love  her 
the  better  for  it." 

"Why  will  you  say  so  ?"  said  Staunton. 

"You  cannot  understand  my  reasons,  sir,  if  I  should  ren- 
der them,"  answered  Jeanie,  composedly;  "they  that  thirst 
for  the  blood  of  their  enemies  have  no  taste  for  the  well -spring 
of  life." 

"My  hopes,"  said  Staunton,  "were  thus  a  second  time 
disappointed.  My  next  efforts  were  to  bring  her  through  her 
trial  by  means  of  yourself.  How  I  urged  it,  and  whei-e,  you 
cannot  have  forgotten.  I  do  not  blame  you  for  your  refusal ; 
it  was  founded,  I  am  convinced,  on  principle,  and  not  on  in- 
difference to  your  sister's  fate.  For  me,  judge  of  me  as  a 
man  frantic ;  I  knew  not  what  hand  to  turn  to,  and  all  my 
efforts  were  unavailing.  In  this  condition,  and  close  beset 
on  all  sides,  I  thought  of  what  might  be  done  by  means  of  my 
family  and  their  influence.  I  fled  from  Scotland  ;  I  reached 
this  place ;  my  miserably  wasted  and  unhappy  appearance 
procured  me  from  my  father  that  pardon  which  a  parent  finds 
it  so  hard  to  refuse,  even  to  the  mostundeserving  son.  And 
here  I  have  awaited  in  anguish  of  mind,  which  the  condemned 
criminal  might  envy,  the  event  of  your  sister's  trial." 

"Without  taking  any  steps  for  her  relief?"  said  Jeanie. 

"To  the  last  I  hoped  her  case  might  terminate  more  favor- 
ably ;  and  it>  is  only  two  days  since  that  the  fatal  tidings 
reached  me.*/  My  resolution  was  instantly  taken.  I  mounted 
my  best  horsfe  with  the  purpose  of  making  the  utmost  haste 
to  London,  and  there  compounding  with  Sir  Eobert  Walpole 
for  your  sister's  safety,  by  surrendering  to  him,  in  the  per- 
son of  the  heir  of  the  family  of  Willingham,  the  notorious 
George  Robertson,  the  accomplice  of  Wilson,  the  breaker  of 
the  Tolbooth  prison,  and  the  well-known  leader  of  the  Por- 
teons  mob." 

"  But  would  that  save  my  sister  ?  "  said  Jeanie,  in  aston- 
ishment. 

"It  would,  as  I  should  drive  my  bargain,"  said  Staunton. 
"  Queens  love  revenge  as  well  as  their  subjects.  Little  as  you 
seem  to  esteem  it,  it  is  a  poison  which  pleases  all  j^alates, 
from  the  prince  to  the  peasant.  Prime  ministers  love  no 
less  the  power  of  pleasing  sovereigns  by  gratifying  their 
passions.  The  life  of  an  obscure  village  girl  !  Why,  I  might 
ask  the  best  of  the  crown  jewels  for  laying  the  head  of  such 
»u  insolent  conspiracy  at  the  foot  of  her  Majesty,  with  a  cer- 


336  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

taintyof  being  gratified.  All  my  other  plans  have  failed, 
but  this  could  not.  Heaven  is  just,  however,  and  would  not 
honor  me  with  making  this  voluntary  atonement  for  the  in- 
Jury  I  have  done  your  sister.  I  had  not  rode  ten  miles,  when 
my  horse,  the  best  and  most  sure-footed  animal  in  this  coun- 
try, fell  with  me  on  a  level  piece  of  road,  as  if  he  had  been 
struck  by  a  cannon-shot.  I  was  greatly  hurt,  and  was  brought 
back  here  in  the  miserable  condition  in  which  you  now  see 
me. 

As  young  Staunton  had  come  to  the  conclusion,  the  serv- 
ant opened  the  door,  and,  with  a  voice  which  seemed  in- 
tended rather  for  a  signal  than  merely  the  announcing  of  a 
visit,  said,  ''His  Keverence,  sir,  is  coming  upstairs  to  wait 
upon  yon.^' 

"  For  Grod's  sake,  hide  yourself,  Jeanie,"  exclaimed  Staun- 
ton, "  in  that  dressing-closet  !  " 

"  No,  sir,"  said  Jeanie  ;  "  as  I  am  here  for  nae  ill,  I  canna 
take  the  shame  of  hiding  mysell  frae  the  master  o'  the  house.''' 

"  But,  good  Heavens  !  "  exclaimed  George  Staunton,  "  do 
but  consider " 

Ere  he  could  complete  the  sentence,  his  father  entered  the 
apartmenta 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 

And  now,  will  pardon,  comfort,  kindness,  draw^ 
The  youth  from  vice?  will  honor,  duty,  law  ? 

Crabbe. 

Je ANIE  arose  from  her  seat  and  made  her  quiet  reverence  when 
the  elder  Mr.  Staunton  entered  the  apartment.  His  astonish- 
ment was  extreme  at  finding  his  son  in  such  company. 

"I  perceive,  madam,"  he  said,  "  I  have  made  a  mistake  re- 
specting you,  and  ought  to  have  left  the  task  of  interrogating 
you,  and  of  righting  your  wrongs,  to  this  young  man,  with 
whom,  doubtless,  you  have  been  formerly  acquainted." 

"  It's  unwitting  on  my  part  that  I  am  here,"  said  Jeanie  ; 
''the  servant  told  me  his  master  wished  to  speak  with  me." 

"  There  goes  the  purple  coat  over  my  ears,"  murmured 
Tummas.  "  D — n  her,  why  must  she  needs  speak  the  truth, 
when  she  could  have  as  well  said  anything  else  she  had  a 
mind  ?" 

"  George,"  said  Mr.  Staunton,  "  if  you  are  still,  as  you 
have  ever  been,  lost  to  all  self-respect,  you  might  at  least  have 
spared  your  father,  and  your  father's  house,  such  a  disgraceful 
scene  as  this." 

"  Upon  my  life — upon  my  soul,  sir  ! "  said  George,  throwing 
his  feet  over  the  side  of  the  bed,  and  starting  from  his  recum- 
bent posture. 

"  Your  life,  sir  !"  interrupted  his  father,  with  melancholy 
sternness — "  what  sort  of  life  has  it  been  ?  Your  soul !  alas  ! 
what  regard  have  you  ever  paid  to  it  ?  Take  care  to  reform 
both  ere  offering  either  as  pledges  of  your  sincerity .f 

''On  my  honor,  sir,  you  do  me  wrong,"  answered  George 
Staunton ;  "1  have  been  all  that  you  can  call  me  that's  bad, 
but  in  the  present  instance  you  do  me  injustice.  By  my 
honor,  you  do  ! " 

"  Your  honor  ! "  said  his  father,  and  turned  from  him,  with 
a  look  of  the  most  upbraiding  contempt,  to  Jeanie.  "  From 
you,  young  woman,  I  neither  ask  nor  expect  any  explanation  ; 
but,  as  a  father  alike  and  as  a  clergyman,  I  request  your  de- 
parture from  this  house.  If  your  romantic  story  has  been 
other  than  a  pretext  to  find  admission  into  it — which,  from 
tiie  society  m  which  you  first  appeared,  I  may  be  permitted  to 


338  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

doubt — yon  will  find  a  jnstice  of  peace  within  two  miles,  witK 
whom,  more  properly  than  with  me,  yon  may  lodge  your  com. 
plaint." 

"  This  shall  not  be/'  said  George  Staunton,  starting  up  to 
his  feet.  "  Sir,  you  are  naturally  kind  and  humane  ;  you  shall 
not  become  cruel  and  inhospitable  on  my  account.  Turn  out 
that  eavesdropping  rascal,"  pointing  to  Thomas,  "and  get 
what  hartshorn  drops,  or  what  better  receipt  you  have  against 
fainting,  and  I  will  explain  to  you  in  two  words  the  connec- 
tion betwixt  this  young  woman  and  me.  She  shall  not  lose  her 
fair  character  through  me.  I  have  done  too  much  mischief 
to  her  family  already,  and  I  know  too  well  what  belongs  to 
the  loss  of  fame." 

"  Leave  the  room,  sir,"  said  the  Rector  to  the  servant  ^ 
and  when  the  man  had  obeyed,  he  carefully  shut  the  door  be- 
hind him.  Then  addressing  his  son,  he  said,  sternly,  "  Now, 
sir,  what  new  proof  of  your  infamy  have  vou  to  impart  to 
me?" 

Young  Staunton  was  about  to  speak,  but  it  was  one  of  those 
moments  when  persons  who,  like  Jeanie  Deans,  possess  the 
advantage  of  a  steady  courage  and  unruffled  temper,  can  assume 
the  superiority  over  more  ardent  but  less  determined  spirits. 

*^  Sir,"  she  said  to  the  elder  Staunton,  "yo  have  an  un- 
doubted right  to  ask  your  ain  son  to  render  a  reason  of  his 
conduct.  But  respecting  me,  I  am  but  a  wayfaring  traveller, 
no  ways  obligated  or  indebted  to  you,  unless  it  be  for  the  meal 
of  meat,  which,  in  my  ain  country,  is  willingly  gien  by  rich 
or  poor,  according  to  their  ability,  to  those  who  need  it ;  and 
for  which,  forbye  that,  I  am  willing  to  make  payment,  if  I 
didna  think  it  would  be  an  affront  to  offer  siller  in  a  house 
like  this,  only  I  dinna  ken  the  fashions  of  the  country." 

"  This  is  all  very  well,  young  woman,"  said  the  Eector,  a 
good  deal  surprised,  and  unable  to  conjecture  whether  to  im- 
pute Jeaiiie's  language  to  simplicity  or  impertinence. — "  this 
may  be  all  very  well,  but  let  me  bring  it  to  a  point.  Why  do 
you  stop  this  young  man's  mouth,  and  prevent  his  communi- 
cating to  his  father  and  his  best  friend  an  explanation,  since 
he  says  he  has  one,  of  circumstances  which  seem  in  themselves 
not  a  little  suspicious  ?" 

"  He  may  tell  of  his  ain  affairs  what  he  likes,"  answered 
Jeanie ;  ''  bvit  my  family  and  friends  have  nae  right  to  hae 
ony  stories  told  anent  them  without  their  express  desire ;  and, 
as  they  canna  be  here  to  speak  for  themselves,  I  entreat  ye 
wadna  ask  Mr.  G-eorge  Rob — I  mean  Staunton,  or  whatever  his 
name  is — ony  questions  anent  me  or  my  folk  ;  for  I  maun  be 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  889 

free  to  tell  yon,  that  he  will  neither  have  the  bearing  of  a 
Christian  or  a  gentleman  if  he  answers  you  against  my  express 
desire." 

"This  is  the  most  extraordinary  thing  I  ever  met  with," 
said  the  Kector,  as,  after  fixing  his  eyes  keenly  on  the  placid 
yet  modest  countenance  of  Jeanie,  he  turned  them  suddenly 
upon  his  son.     "  What  have  you  to  say,  sir  ?" 

"  That  I  feel  I  have  been  too  hasty  in  my  promise,  sir," 
answered  George  Staunton.  "  I  have  no  title  to  make  any 
communications  respecting  the  affairs  of  this  young  person's 
family  without  her  assent." 

The  elder  Mr.  Staunton  turned  his  eyes  from  one  to  the 
other  with  marks  of  surprise. 

"  This  is  more  and  worse,  I  fear,"  he  said,  addressing  hia 
son,  "  than  one  of  your  frequent  and  disgraceful  connections. 
I  insist  upon  knowing  the  mystery." 

"  I  have  already  said,  sir,"  replied  his  son,  rather  sullenly, 
"  that  I  have  no  title  to  mention  the  affairs  of  this  young 
woman's  family  without  her  consent." 

'•'  And  I  hae  nae  mysteries  to  explain,  sir,"  said  Jeanie, 
"  but  only  to  pray  you,  as  a  preacher  of  the  Gospel  and  a  gen- 
tleman, to  permit  me  to  go  safe  to  the  next  public-house  on 
the  Lunnon  road," 

"  I  shall  take  care  of  your  safety,"  said  young  Staunton  ; 
"  you  need  ask  that  favor  from  no  one.*' 

"  Do  you  say  so  before  my  face  ?  "  said  the  justly  incensed 
father.  "  Perhaps,  sir,  you  intend  to  fill  up  the  cup  of  dis*- 
obedience  and  profligacy  by  forming  a  low  and  disgraceful 
marriage  ?     But  let  me  bid  you  beware." 

"  If  you  were  feared  for  sic  a  thing  happening  wi'  me, 
sir,"  said  Jeanie,  "  I  can  only  say,  that  not  for  all  the  land 
that  lies  between  tlie  twa  ends  of  the  rainbow  wad  I  be  the 
woman  that  should  wed  your  son." 

''There  is  something  very  singular  in  all  this,"  said  the 
elder  Staunton  ;  "  follow  me  into  the  next  room,  young 
woman." 

"  Hear  me  speak  first,"  said  the  young  man.  "  I  have 
but  one  word  to  say.  I  confide  entirely  in  your  prudence  ; 
tell  my  father  as  much  or  as  little  of  these  matters  as  you  will, 
he  shall  know  neither  more  nor  less  from  me." 

His  father  darted  to  him  a  glance  of  indignation,  -w^hich 
softened  into  sorrow  as  he  saw  him  gink  down  on  the  couch, 
exhausted  with  the  scene  he  had  undergone.  He  left  the 
apartment,  and  Jeanie  followed  him,  George  Staunton  raising 
himself  a-s  she  passed  the  doorway,  and  pronouncing  the  word 


340  WAVERLEY  NOVEL!? 

*'  Remember  1 "  in  a  tone  as  monitory  as  it  was  uttered  by 
Charles  I.  upon  the  scaffold.  The  elder  Staunton  led  the  way 
into  a  small  parlor,  and  shut  the  door. 

"  Young  woman,"  said  he,  "  there  is  something  in  your 
face  and  appearance  that  marks  both  sense  and  simplicity, 
and,  if  I  am  not  deceived,  innocence  also.  Should  it  be 
otherwise,  I  can  only  say,  you  are  the  most  accomplished 
hypocrite  I  have  ever  seen.  I  ask  to  know  no  secret  that  you 
have  unwillingness  to  divulge,  least  of  all  those  which  con- 
cern my  son.  His  conduct  has  given  me  too  much  unhappi- 
ness  to  permit  me  to  hope  comfort  or  satisfaction  from  him. 
If  you  are  such  as  I  suppose  you,  believe  me,  that  whatever 
unhappy  circumstances  may  have  connected  you  with  George 
Staunton,  the  sooner  you  break  them  through  the  better.'' 

"  I  think  I  understand  your  meaning,  sir,"  replied  Jeanie  ; 
*'  and  as  ye  are  sae  frank  as  to  speak  o'  the  young  gentleman 
in  sic  a  way,  I  must  needs  say  that  it  is  but  the  second  time 
of  my  speaking  wi'  him  in  our  lives,  and  what  I  hae  heard 
frae  him  on  these  twa  occasions  has  been  such  that  I  never 
wish  to  hear  the  like  again." 

"  Then  it  is  your  real  intention  to  leave  this  part  of  the 
country,  and  proceed  to  London  ?  "  said  the  Eector. 

"  Certainly,  sir  ;  for  I  may  say,  in  one  sense,  that  the 
avenger  of  blood  is  behind  me  ;  and  if  I  were  but  assured 
against  mischief  by  the  way " 

'•'  I  have  made  inquiry,"  said  the  clergyman, '-  after  the  sus- 
picious characters  you  described.  They  have  lef  ?  their  place  of 
rendezvous  ;  but  as  they  may  be  lurking  in  the  neighborhood, 
and  as  you  say  you  have  special  reason  to  apprehend  violence 
from  them,  I  will  put  you  under  the  charge  ot  a  steady  per- 
son, who  will  protect  you  as  far  as  Stamford,  and  see  you  into 
a  light  coach,  which  goes  from  thence  to  London," 

"  A  coach  is  not  for  the  like  of  me,  sir,"  said  Jeanie,  to 
whom  the  idea  of  a  stage-coach  was  unknown,  as,  indeed, 
they  were  then  only  used  in  the  neighborhood  of  London. 

Mr.  Staunton  briefly  explained  that  she  would  find  that 
mode  of  conveyance  more  commodious,  cheaper,  and  more  safe 
than  travelling  on  horseback.  She  expressed  her  gratitude 
with  so  much  singleness  of  heart,  that  he  was  induced  to  ask 
her  whether  she  wanted  the  pecuniary  means  of  prosecuting 
her  journey.  She  thanked  him,  but  said  she  had  enough  for 
her  purpose  ;  and,  indeed,  she  had  husbanded  her  stock  with 
great  care.  This  reply  served  also  to  remove  some  doubts 
which  naturally  enough  still  floated  in  Mr.  Staunton's  mind, 
respecting  her  character  and  real  purpose,  and  satisfied  him. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  841 

at  least,  that  money  did  not  enter  into  her  scheme  of  decep- 
tion, if  an  impostor  slie  should  prove.  He  next  requested  to 
know  what  part  of  the  city  slie  wished  to  go  to. 

"  To  a  very  decent  merchant,  a  consin  o'  my  ain,  a  Mrs. 
Glass,  sir,  that  sells  snuff  and  tobacco,  at  the  sign  o'  the 
Thistle,  somegate  in  the  town.''' 

Jeanie  communicated  this  intelligence  with  a  feeling  that 
a  connection  so  respectable  ought  to  give  her  consequence  in 
the  eyes  of  Mr.  Staunton  ;  and  she  was  a  good  deal  surprised 
when  he  answered — "And  is  this  woman  your  only  acquaint- 
ance in  London,  my  poor  girl  ?  and  have  you  really  no  better 
knowledge  where  she  is  to  be  found  ?  " 

"  I  was  gaun  to  see  the  Duke  of  Argyie,  forbye  Mrs.  Glass,'* 
said  Jeanie  ;  ''and  if  your  honor  thinks  it  would  be  best  to  go 
there  first,  and  get  some  of  his  Grace's  folk  to  show  me  my 
cousin's  shop " 

''Are  you  acquainted  with  any  of  the  Duke  of  Argyle's 
people  ?  "  said  the  Eector. 

"No,  sir." 

"Her  brain  must  be  something  touched  after  all,  or  it 
would  be  impossible  for  her  to  rely  on  such  introductions. 
Well,"  said  he  aloud,  "  I  must  not  inquire  into  the  cause  of 
your  journey,  and  so  I  cannot  be  fit  to  give  yon  advice  how  to 
manage  it.  Bat  the  landlady  of  the  house  "where  the  coach 
stops  is  a  very  decent  person  ;  and  as  I  use  her  house  some- 
times, I  will  give  you  a  recommendation  to  her.''' 

Jeanie  thanked  him  for  his  kindness  with  her  best  court- 
esy, and  said,  "That  with  his  honor's  line,  and  ane  from 
worthj^  Mrs.  Bickerton,  that  keeps  the  Seven  Stars  at  York, 
she  did  not  doubt  to  be  well  taken  out  in  Lunuon." 

"  And  now,"  said  he,  "I  presume  you  will  be  desirous  to 
set  out  immediately." 

"  If  I  had  been  in  an  inn,  sir,  or  any  suitable  resting- 
place,"  answered  Jeanie,  "I  wad  not  have  presumed  to  use  the 
Lord's  day  for  travelling  ;  but  as  1  am  on  a  journey  of  mercy, 
I  trust  my  doing  so  will  not  be  imputed." 

"  You  may,  if  you  choose,  remain  with  Mrs.  Dalton  for 
the  evening  ;  but  I  desire  you  will  have  no  further  correspond- 
ence with  my  son,  who  is  not  a  proper  counsellor  for  a  per- 
son of  your  age,  whatever  your  difficulties  may  be." 

"  Your  honor  speaks  ower  truly  in  that,"  said  Jeanie  ;  "  it 
was  not  with  my  will  that  I  spoke  wi'  him  just  now,  and — 
not  to  wish  the  gentleman  onything  but  gnde — I  never  wish 
to  see  him  between  the  een  again." 

**  If  you  please,"  added  the  Rector,  "as  you  seem  to  be  a 


842  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

serionsly  disposed  young  woman,  yon  may  attend  family  wor- 
ship in  the  hall  this  evening." 

"  I  thank  your  honor,"'  said  Jeanie  ;  "  but  I  am  doubtful 
if  my  attendance  would  be  to  edification." 

"  How  !  "  said  the  Rector  ;  "  so  young,  and  already  un- 
fortunate enough  to  have  doubts  upon  the  duties  of  religion  I" 

"  God  forbid,  sir,"  replied  Jeanie  ;  "  it  is  not  for  that  ; 
but  I  have  been  bred  in  the  faith  of  the  suffering  remnant  of 
the  Presbyterian  doctrine  in  Scotland,  and  I  am  doubtful  if  I 
can  lawfully  attend  upon  your  fashion  of  worship,  seeing  it  has 
been  testified  against  by  many  precious  souls  of  our  kirk,  and 
specially  by  my  worthy  father." 

"  Well,  my  good  girl,"  said  the  Rector,  with  a  good-hu- 
mored smile,  "  far  be  it  from  me  to  put  any  force  upon  your 
conscience  ;  and  yet  you  ought  to  recollect  that  the  same  di- 
vine grace  dispenses  its  streams  to  other  kingdoms  as  well  as 
to  Scotland.  As  it  is  as  essential  to  our  spiritual  as  water  to 
our  earthly  wants,  its  springs,  various  in  character,  yet  alike 
efficacious  in  virtue,  are  to  be  found  in  abundance  throughout 
the  Christian  world." 

"  Ah,  but,"  said  Jeanie,  "  though  the  waters  maybe  alike, 
yet,  with  your  worship's  leave,  the  blessing  upon  them  may 
not  be  equal.  It  would  have  been  in  vain  for  ISTaaman  the 
Syrian  leper  to  have  bathed  in  Pharphar  and  Abana,  rivers  of 
Damascus,  when  it  was  only  the  waters  of  Jordan  that  were 
sanctified  for  the  cure." 

''Well,"  said  the  Rector,  ''we  will  not  enter  upon  the 
great  debate  betwixt  our  national  churches  at  present.  We 
must  endeavor  to  satisfy  you  that  at  least,  among  our  er- 
rors, we  preserve  Christian  charity,  and  a  desire  to  assist  our 
brethren." 

He  then  ordered  Mrs.  Dalton  into  his  presence,  and  con- 
signed Jeanie  to  her  particular  charge,  with  directions  to  be 
kind  to  her,  and  with  assurances  that,  early  in  the  morning, 
a  trusty  guide  and  a  good  horse  should  be  ready  to  conduct 
her  to  Stamford.  He  then  took  a  serious  and  dignified,  ^^Qt 
kind  leave  of  her,  wishing  her  full  success  in  the  objects  of 
her  journey,  which  he  said  he  doubted  not  were  laudable, 
from  the  soundness  of  thinking  which  she  had  displayed  in 
conversation. 

Jeanie  was  again  conducted  by  the  housekeeper  to  her  own 
apartment.  But  the  evening  was  not  destined  to  pass  over 
without  further  torment  from  young  Staunton.  A  paper  was 
slipped  into  her  hand  by  the  faithful  Tummas,  whieli  inti- 
"aated  his  young  master's  desire,  or  rather  demand,  to  see  her 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  348 

instantly,  and  assured  her  he  had  provided  against  interrup- 
tion. 

"  Tell  your  young  master/'  said  Jeanie,  openly,  and  re- 
gardless of  all  the  winks  and  signs  by  which  Tummas  strove 
to  make  her  comprehend  that  Mrs.  Dalton  was  not  to  be  ad- 
mitted into  the  secret  of  the  correspondence,  *'  that  I  promised 
faithfully  to  his  worthy  father  that  I  would  not  see  him 
again." 

"Tummas/'  said  Mrs.  Dalton,  "I  think  you  might  be 
much  more  creditably  employed,  considering  the  coat  you 
wear  and  the  house  you  live  in,  than  to  be  carrying  messages 
between  your  young  master  and  girls  that  chance  to  be  in  this 
house." 

"Why,  Mrs.  Dalton,  as  to  that,  I  Avas  hired  to  carry  mes- 
sages, and  not  to  ask  any  questions  about  them  ;  and  it's  not 
for  the  like  of  me  to  refuse  the  young  gentleman's  bidding,  if 
he  were  a  little  wildish  or  so.  If  there  was  harm  meant, 
there's  no  harm  done,  you  see." 

"However,"  said  Mrs.  Dalton,  "I  gie  you  fair  warning, 
Tummas  Ditton,  that  an  I  catch  thee  at  this  work  again,  his 
Eeverence  shall  make  a  clear  house  of  you." 

Tummas  retired,  abashed  and  in  dismay.  The  rest  of  the 
evening  passed  away  without  anything  worthy  of  notice. 

Jeanie  enjoyed  the  comforts  of  a  good  bed  and  a  sound 
sleep  with  grateful  satisfaction,  after  the  perils  and  hardships 
of  the  preceding  day  ;  and  such  was  her  fatigue,  that  she  slept 
soundly  until  six  o'clock,  when  she  was  awakened  by  Mrs.  Dal- 
ton, who  acquainted  her  that  her  guide  and  horse  were  ready 
and  in  attendance.  She  hastily  rose,  and,  after  her  morning 
devotions,  was  soon  ready  to  resume  her  travels.  The  motherly 
care  of  the  housekeeper  had  provided  an  early  breakfast,  and, 
after  she  had  partaken  of  this  refreshment,  she  found  herself 
safe  seated  on  a  pillion  behind  a  stout  Lincolnshire  peasant, 
who  was,  besides,  armed  with  pistols,  to  protect  her  against 
any  violence  which  might  be  offered. 

They  trudged  on  in  silence  for  a  mile  or  two  along  a  country 
road,  which  conducted  them,  by  hedge  and  gateway,  into  the 
principal  highway,  a  little  beyond  Grantham.  At  length  her 
master  of  the  horse  asked  her  whether  her  name  was  not  Jean, 
or  Jane,  Deans.  She  answered  in  the  affirmative,  with  some 
surprise.  "  Then  here's  a  bit  of  a  note  as  concerns  you,"  said 
the  man,  handing  it  over  his  left  shoulder.  "  It's  from  young 
master,  as  I  judge,  and  every  man  about  Willingham  is  fain 
to  pleasure  him  either  for  love  or  fear  ;  for  he'll  come  to  be 
landlord  at  last,  let  them  say  what  they  like." 


344  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

Jeanie  broke  the  seal  of  the  note,  which  was  addressed  to 
her,  and  read  as  follows  : 

"  You  refuse  to  see  me.  I  suppose  you  are  shocked  at  my 
character  ;  but,  in  painting  myself  such  as  I  am,  you  should 
give  me  credit  for  my  sincerity.  lam,  at  least,  no  hypocrite. 
You  refuse,  however,  to  see  me,  and  your  conduct  may  be 
natural ;  but  is  it  wise  ?  I  have  expressed  my  anxiety  to  re- 
pair your  sister's  misfortunes  at  the  expense  of  my  honor — 
my  family's  honor — my  own  life  ;  and  you  think  me  too  de- 
based to  be  admitted  even  to  sacrifice  what  I  have  remaining 
of  honor,  fame,  and  life  in  her  cause.  Well,  if  the  offerer  be 
despised,  the  victim  is  still  equally  at  hand  ;  and  perhaps  there 
may  be  justice  in  the  decree  of  Heaven  that  I  shall  not  have 
the  melancholy  credit  of  appearing  to  make  this  sacrifice  out  of 
my  own  free  good- will.  You,  as  you  have  declined  my  con- 
currence, must  take  the  whole  upon  yourself.  Go,  then,  to  the 
Duke  of  Argyle,  and,  when  other  arguments  fail  you,  tell  him 
you  have  it  in  your  power  to  bring  to  condign  punishment  the 
most  active  conspirator  in  the  Porteous  mob.  He  will  hear  you 
on  this  topic,  should  he  be  deaf  to  ev3ry  other.  Make  your 
own  terms,  for  they  will  be  at  your  own  making.  You  know 
where  I  am  to  be  found  ;  and  you  may  be  assured  I  will  not 
give  you  the  dark  side  of  the  hill,  as  at  Muschat's  Cairn  :  I 
have  no  thoughts  of  stirring  from  the  house  I  was  born  in  ; 
like  the  hare,  I  shall  be  worried  in  the  seat  I  started  from.  I 
repeat  it — make  your  own  terms.  I  need  not  remind  you  to 
ask  your  sister's  life,  for  that  you  will  do  of  course  ;  but  make 
terms  of  advantage  for  yourself  :  ask  wealth  and  reward — office 
and  income  for  Butler — ask  anything,  you  will  get  anything, 
and  all  for  delivering  to  the  hands  of  the  executioner  a  man 
most  deserving  of  his  office — one  who,  though  young  in  years, 
is  old  in  wicked uess,  and  whose  most  earnest  desire  is,  after 
the  storms  of  an  unquiet  life,  to  sleep  and  be  at  rest." 

This  extraordinary  letter  was  subscribed  with  the  initials 

Jeanie  read  it  over  once  or  twice  with  great  attention, 
which  the  slow  pace  of  the  horse,  as  he  stalked  through  a 
deep  lane,  enabled  her  to  do  with  facility. 

When  she  had  perused  this  billet,  her  first  employment 
was  to  tear  it  into  as  small  pieces  as  possible,  and  disperse 
these  pieces  in  the  air  by  a  few  at  a  time,  so  that  a  document 
containing  so  perilous  a  secret  might  not  fall  into  any  other 
person's  hand. 

The  question  how  far,  in  point  of  extremity,  she  was  en- 
titled to  save  her  sister's  life  by  sacrificing  that  of  a  person 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  345 

who,  thongh  guilty  towards  the  state,  had  done  her  no  injury, 
formed  the  next  earnest  and  most  painfnl  subject  of  consid- 
eration. In  one  sense,  indeed,  it  seemed  as  if  denonncing  the 
guilt  of  Staunton,  the  cause  of  her  sister's  errors  and  mis- 
fortunes, would  have  been  an  act  of  just,  and  even  providential, 
retribution.  But  Jeanie,  in  the  strict  and  severe  tone  of 
morality  in  which  she  was  educated,  had  to  consider  not  only 
the  general  aspect  of  a  proposed  action,  but  its  justness  and 
fitness  in  relation  to  the  actor,  before  she  could  be,  according 
to  her  own  phrase,  free  to  enter  upon  it.  What  right  had 
she  to  make  a  barter  between  the  lives  of  Staunton  and  of 
Effie,  and  to  sacrifice  the  one  for  the  safety  of  the  other  ? 
His  guilt — that  guilt  for  which  he  was  amenable  to  the  laws — 
was  a  crime  against  the  public  indeed,  but  it  was  not  against 
her. 

Neither  did  it  seem  to  her  that  his  share  in  the  death  of 
Porteous,  though  her  mind  revolted  at  the  idea  of  using  vio- 
lence to  any  one,  was  in  the  relation  of  a  common  murder, 
against  the  perpetrator  of  which  every  one  is  called  to  aid  the 
public  magistrate.  That  violent  action  was  blended  with  many 
circumstances  which,  in  the  eyes  of  those  of  Jeanie's  rank  in 
life,  if  they  did  not  altogether  deprive  it  of  the  character  of 
guilt,  softened,  at  least,  its  most  atrocious  features.  The 
anxiety  of  the  government  to  obtain  conviction  of  some  of  the 
offenders  had  but  served  to  increase  the  public  feeling  which 
connected  the  action,  though  violent  and  irregular,  with  the 
idea  of  ancient  national  independence.  The  rigorous  pro- 
cedure adopted  or  proposed  against  the  city  of  Edinburgh, 
the  ancient  metropolis  of  Scotland,  the  extremely  unpopular 
and  injudicious  measure  of  compelling  the  Scottish  clergy, 
contrary  to  their  principles  and  sense  of  duty,  to  promulgate 
from  the  pulpit  the  reward  offered  for  the  discovery  of  the  per- 
petrators of  this  slaughter,  had  produced  on  the  public  mind 
the  opposite  consequences  from  what  were  intended  ;  and 
Jeanie  felt  conscious  that,  whoever  should  lodge  information 
concerning  that  event,  and  for  whatsoever  purpose  it  might 
be  done,  it  would  be  considered  as  an  act  of  treason  against 
the  independence  of  Scotland.  With  the  fanaticism  of  the 
Scotch  Presbyterians  there  was  always  mingled  a  glow  of  na- 
tional feeling,  and  Jeanie  trembled  at  the  idea  of  her  name 
being  handed  down  to  posterity  with  that  of  the  "  fause  Mon- 
teath,"  and  one  or  two  others,  who,  having  deserted  and  be- 
trayed the  cause  of  their  country,  are  damned  to  perpetual 
remembrance  and  execration  among  its  peasantry.  Yet,  to 
part  with  Efiie's  life  once  more,  when  a  word  spoken  might 


346  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

save  it,  pressed   severely  on  the  mind   of  her  affectionate 
sister. 

"  Tlie  Lord  support  and  direct  me  !  "  said  Jeanie,  "for  it 
seems  to  be  His  will  to  try  me  with  difficulties  far  beyond  my 
ain  strength." 

While  this  thought  passed  through  Jeanie's  mind,  her 
guard,  tired  of  silence,  began  to  show  some  inclination  to  be 
communicative.  He  seemed  a  sensible,  steady  peasant,  but 
not  having  more  delicacy  or  prudence  than  is  common  to  those 
in  his  situation,  he,  of  course,  chose  the  Williugham  family  as 
the  subject  of  his  conversation.  From  this  man  Jeanie  learned 
some  particulars  of  which  she  had  hitherto  been  ignorant, 
and  which  we  will  briefly  recapitulate  for  the  information  of 
the  reader. 

The  father  of  George  Staunton  had  been  bred  a  soldier, 
and,  during  service  in  the  West  Indies,  had  married  the  heiress 
of  a  wealthy  planter.  By  this  lady  he  had  an  only  child,  George 
Staunton,  the  unhappy  young  man  who  has  been  so  often 
mentioned  in  this  narrative.  He  passed  the  first  part  of  his 
early  youth  under  tlie  charge  of  a  doting  mother,  and  in  the 
society  of  negro  slaves,  whose  study  it  was  to  gratify  his  every 
caprice.  His  father  was  a  man  of  worth  and  sense  ;  but,  as 
he  alone  retained  tolerable  healtli  among  the  officers  of  the 
regiment  he  belonged  to,  he  was  much  engaged  with  his  duty. 
Besides,  Mrs.  Staunton  was  beautiful  and  wilful,  and  enjoyed 
but  delicate  health  ;  so  that  it  was  difficult  for  a  man  of  af- 
fection, humanity,  and  a  quiet  disposition  to  struggle  with  her 
on  the  point  of  her  over-indulgence  to  an  only  child.  In- 
deed, what  Mr.  Staunton  did  do  towards  counteracting  the 
baneful  effects  of  his  wife's  system,  only  tended  to  render  it 
more  pernicious  ;  for  every  restraint  imposed  on  the  boy  in  his 
father's  presence  was  compensated  by  treble  license  during  his 
absence.  So  that  George  Staunton  acquired,  even  in  child- 
hood, the  habit  of  regarding  his  father  as  a  rigid  censor,  from 
whose  severity  he  was  desirous  of  emancipating  himself  as  soon 
and  absolutely  as  possible. 

When  he  was  about  ten  years  old,  and  when  his  mind  had 
received  all  the  seeds  of  those  evil  weeds  which  afterwards 
grew  apace,  his  mother  died,  and  his  father,  half  heart-broken, 
returned  to  England.  To  sum  up  her  imprudence  and  un- 
justifiable indulgence,  she  had  contrived  to  jjlace  a  considera- 
ble part  of  her  fortune  at  her  son's  exclusive  control  or  disposal ; 
in  consequence  of  which  management,  George  Staunton  had 
not  been  long  in  England  till  he  learned  his  independence,  and 
how  to  abuse  it.     His  father  had  endeavored  to  rectify  the 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  347 

defects  of  his  education  by  placing  him  in  a  well-regnlated 
seminary.  But  although  he  showed  some  capacity  for  learn- 
ing, his  riotous  conduct  soon  became  intolerable  to  his  teachers. 
He  found  means  (too  easily  afforded  to  all  youths  who  have 
certain  expectations)  of  procuring  such  a  command  of  money 
as  enabled  him  to  anticipate  in  boyhood  the  frolics  and  follies 
of  a  more  mature  age,  and,  witli  these  accomplishments,  he  was 
returned  on  his  father's  hands  as  a  profligate  boy,  whose  ex- 
ample might  ruin  a  hundred. 

The  elder  Mr.  Staunton^  whose  mind,  since  his  wife's 
death,  had  been  tinged  with  a  melancholy  which  certainly 
his  son's  conduct  did  not  tend  to  dispel,  had  taken  orders, 
and  was  inducted  by  his  brother,  Sir  William  Staunton,  into 
the  family  living  of  Willingham.  The  revenue  was  a  matter 
of  consequence  to  him,  for  he  derived  little  advantage  from 
the  estate  of  his  late  wife  ;  and  his  own  fortune  was  that 
of  a  younger  brother. 

He  took  his  son  to  reside  with  him  at  the  rectory  ;  but  he 
soon  found  that  his  disorders  rendered  him  an  intolerable 
inmate.  And  as  the  young  men  of  his  own  rank  would  not 
endure  the  purse-proud  insolence  of  the  Creole,  he  fell  into 
that  taste  for  low  society  which  is  worse  than  "  pressing  to 
death,  whipping,  or  hanging."  His  father  sent  him  abroad, 
but  he  only  returned  wilder  and  more  desperate  than  before. 
It  is  true,  this  unhappy  youth  was  not  without  his  good 
qualities.  He  had  lively  wit,  good  temper,  reckless  generos- 
ity, and  manners  which,  while  he  was  under  restraint,  might 
pass  well  in  society.  But  all  these  availed  him  nothing.  He 
was  so  well  acquainted  with  the  turf,  the  gaming-table,  the 
cock-pit,  and  every  worse  rendezvous  of  folly  and  dissipation, 
that  his  mother's  fortune  was  spent  before  he  was  twenty-one, 
and  he  was  soon  in  debt  and  in  distress.  His  early  history  may 
be  concluded  in  the  words  of  our  British  Juvenal,  when  de- 
scribing a  similar  character  : 

Headstrong,  determined  in  his  own  career, 
He  thought  reproof  vmjust,  and  truth  severe. 
The  soul's  disease  was  to  its  crisis  come, 
He  first  abused  and  then  abjui-ed  liis  home  ; 
And  when  he  chose  a  vagabond  to  be, 
He  made  his  shame  his  glory,  "  I'll  be  free  1  "* 

'*  And  yet  'tis  pity  on  Measter  George,  too,"  continued  th© 
honest  boor,  ''for  he  has  an  open  hand,  and  winna  let  a  poor 
body  want  an  he  has  it." 

*  Crabbe's  Borough,  Letter  xii.  iLaing). 


348  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

The  virtue  of  profuse  generosity,  by  which,  indeed,  they 
themselves  are  most  directly  advantaged,  is  readily  admitted 
by  the  vulgar  as  a  cloak  for  many  sins. 

At  Stamford  our  heroine  was  deposited  in  safety  by  her 
communicative  guide.  She  obtained  a  place  in  the  coach, 
which,  although  termed  a  light  one,  and  accommodated  with 
no  fewer  than  six  horses,  only  reached  London  on  the  after- 
noon of  the  second  day.  The  recommendation  of  the  elder 
Mr.  Staunton  procured  Jeanie  a  civil  reception  at  the  inn 
where  the  carriage  stopped,  and,  by  the  aid  of  Mrs.  Bicker- 
ton^s  correspondent,  she  found  out  her  friend  and  relative 
Mrs.  Glass,  by  whom  she  was  kindly  received  and  hospitably 
entertained. 


CHAPTER  XXXV 

My  name  is  Argyle,  you  may  well  think  it  strange, 
To  live  at  the  court  and  never  to  change. 

Ballad. 

Few  names  deserve  more  honorable  mention  in  the  history  of 
Scotland,  during  this  period,  than  that  of  John  Duke  of  Ar- 
gyle and  Greenwich.  His  talents  as  a  statesman  and  a  soldier 
were  generally  admitted  ;  he  was  not  without  ambition,  but 
"without  the  illness  that  attends  it" — without  that  irregu- 
larity of  thought  and  aim  which  often  excites  great  men,  in 
his  peculiar  situation  (for  it  was  a  very  peculiar  one),  to  grasp 
the  means  of  raising  themselves  to  power  at  the  risk  of  throw- 
ing a  kingdom  into  confusion.     Pope  has  distinguished  him  as 

Argyle,  the  state's  whole  thunder  born  to  wield, 
And  shake  alike  the  senate  and  the  field. 

He  was  alike  free  from  the  ordinary  vices  of  statesmen,  false- 
hood, namely,  and  dissimiilation  ;  and  from  those  of  warriors, 
inordinate  and  violent  thirst  after  self-aggrandizement. 

Scotland,  his  native  country,  stood  at  this  time  in  a  very 
precarious  and  doubtful  situation.  She  was  indeed  united  to 
England,  but  the  cement  had  not  had  time  to  acquire  consist- 
ence. The  irritation  of  ancient  wrongs  still  subsisted,  and  be- 
twixt the  fretful  jealousy  of  the  Scottish  and  the  supercilious 
disdain  of  the  English,  quarrels  repeatedly  occurred,  in  the 
course  of  which  the  national  league,  so  important  to  the  safety 
of  both,  was  in  the  utmost  danger  of  being  dissolved.  Scot- 
land had,  besides,  the  disadvantage  of  being  divided  into  in- 
testine factions,  which  hated  each  other  bitterly,  and  waited 
but  a  signal  to  break  forth  into  action. 

In  such  circumstances,  another  man,  with  the  talents  and 
rank  of  Argyle,  but  without  a  mind  so  happily  regulated, 
would  have  sought  to  rise  from  the  earth  in  the  whirlwind, 
and  direct  its  fury.  He  chose  a  course  more  safe  and  more 
honorable. 

Soaring  above  the  petty  distinctions  of  faction,  his  voice 
was  raised,  whether  in  office  or  opposition,  for  those  measures 
which  were  at  once  just  and  lenient.     His  high  military  talents 


350  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

enabled  him,  during  the  memorable  year  1715,  to  render  such 
services  to  the  house  of  Hauover  as,  perhaps,  were  too  great 
to  be  either  acknowledged  or  repaid.  He  had  employed,  too, 
his  utmost  influence  in  softening  the  consequences  of  that  in- 
surrection to  the  unfortunate  gentlemen  whom  a  mistaken 
sense  of  loyalty  had  engaged  in  the  affair,  and  was  rewarded 
by  the  esteem  and  affection  of  his  country  in  an  uncommon 
degree.  This  popularity  with  a  discontented  and  warlike 
people  was  supposed  to  beasubjectof  Jealousy  at  court,  where 
the  power  to  become  dangerous  is  sometimes  of  itself  obnox- 
ious, though  the  inclination  is  not  united  with  it.  Besides, 
the  Duke  of  Argyle's  independent  and  somewhat  haughty 
mode  of  expressing  himself  in  Parliament,  and  acting  in  pub- 
lic, were  ill  calculated  to  attract  royal  favor.  He  was,  there- 
fore, always  respected,  and  often  employed ;  but  he  was  not  a 
favorite  of  George  the  Second,  his  consort,  or  his  ministers. 
At  several  different  periods  in  his  life,  the  Duke  might  be 
considered  as  in  absolute  disgrace  at  court,  although  he  could 
hardly  be  said  to  be  a  declared  member  of  opposition.  This 
rendered  him  the  dearer  to  Scotland,  because  it  was  usually 
in  her  cause  that  he  incurred  the  displeasure  of  his  sovereign; 
and  upon  this  very  occasion  of  the  Porteous  mob,  the  animated 
and  eloquent  opj^osition  which  he  had  offered  to  the  severe 
measures  which  were  about  to  be  adopted  towards  the  city  of 
Edinburgh  was  the  more  gratefully  received  in  that  metropo- 
lis as  it  was  understood  that  the  Duke's  interposition  had 
given  personal  offence  to  Queen  Caroline. 

His  conduct  upon  this  occasion,  as,  indeed,  that  of  all  the 
Scottish  members  of  the  legislature,  with  one  or  two  unworthy 
exceptions,  had  been  in  the  highest  degree  spirited.  The 
popular  tradition  concerning  his  reply  to  Queen  Caroline  has 
been  given  already,Jand  some  fragments  of  his  speech  against 
the  Porteous  bill  are  still  remembered.  He  retorted  upoi^. 
the  Chancellor,  Lord  Hardwicke,  the  insinuation  that  he  had 
stated  himself  in  this  case  rather  as  a  party  than  as  a  judge. 
^'^I  appeal,"  said  Argyle,  "to  the  House — to  the  nation,  if 
I  can  be  justly  branded  with  the  infamy  of  being  a  jobber  or 
a  partisan.  Have  I  been  a  briber  of  votes — a  buyer  of  bor- 
oughs— the  agent  of  corruption  for  any  purpose,  or  on  be- 
half of  any  party  ?  Consider  my  life,  examine  my  actions 
in  the  field  and  in  the  cabinet,  and  see  where  there  lies  a  blot 
that  can  attach  to  my  honor.  I  have  shown  myself  the  friend 
of  my  country,  the  loyal  subject  of  my  king.  I  am  ready  to 
do  so  again,  without  an  instant's  regard  to  the  frowns  or 
smiles    of  a  court.     I  have  experienced  both,  and  am  pre- 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  S61 

pared  with  indifference  for  either.  I  have  given  my  reasons 
for  opposing  this  bill,  and  have  made  it  appear  that  it  is  re- 
pugnant to  the  international  treaty  of  nnion,  to  the  liberty 
of  Scotland,  and,  reflectively,  to  that  of  England,  to  common 
Justice,  to  common  sense,  and  to  the  public  interest.  Shall 
the  metropolis  of  Scotland,  the  capital  of  an  independent 
nation,  the  residence  of  a  long  line  of  monarchs,  by  whom 
that  noble  city  was  graced  and  dignified — shall  such  a  city, 
for  the  fault  of  an  obscure  and  unknown  body  of  rioters,  be 
deprived  of  its  honors  and  its  privileges,  its  gates  and  its 
guards  ?  and  shall  a  native  Scotsman  tamely  behold  the  havoc? 
I  glory,  my  lords,  in  opposing  such  unjust  rigor,  and  reckon 
it  my  dearest  pride  and  honor  to  stand  up  in  defence  of  my 
native  country,  while  thus  laid  open  to  undeserved  shame  and 
unjust  spoliation/' 

Other  statesmen  and  orators,  both  Scottish  and  English, 
used  the  same  arguments  ;  the  bill  was  gradually  stripped  of 
its  most  oppressive  and  obnoxious  clauses,  and  at  length  ended 
in  a  fine  upon  the  city  of  Edinburgh  in  favor  of  Porteous's 
widow ;  so  that,  as  somebody  observed  at  the  time,  the  whole 
of  these  fierce  debates  ended  in  making  the  fortune  of  an  old 
cook-maid,  such  having  been  the  good  woman's  original  ca- 
pacity. 

The  court,  however,  did  not  forget  the  baffle  they  had  re- 
ceived in  this  affair,  and  the  Duke  of  Argyle,  who  had  con- 
tributed so  much  to  it,  was  thereafter  considered  as  a  person  in 
disgrace.  It  is  necessary  to  place  these  circumstances  under 
the  reader's  observation,  both  because  they  are  connected  with 
the  preceding  and  subsequent  part  of  our  narrative. 

The  Duke  was  alone  in  his  study,  when  one  of  his  gentle- 
men acquainted  him  that  a  country-girl  from  Scotland  was 
desirous  of  speaking  with  his  Grace. 

"A  country-girl,  and  from  Scotland  !"  said  the  Duke; 
•'what  can  have  brought  the  silly  fool  to  London?  Some 
lover  pressed  and  sent  to  sea,  or  some  stock  sunk  in  the  South 
Sea  funds,  or  some  such  hopeful  concern,  I  suppose,  and  then 
nobody  to  manage  the  matter  but  MacCallummore.  Well, 
this  same  popularity  has  its  inconveniences.  However,  show 
our  countrywoman  up,  Archibald  ;  it  is  ill  manners  to  keep 
her  in  attendance." 

A  young  woman  of  rather  low  stature,  and  whose  counte- 
nance might  be  termed  very  modest  and  pleasing  in  expres- 
sion, though  sun-burnt,  somewhat  freckled,  and  not  possess- 
ing regular  features,  was  ushered  into  the  splendid  library. 


352  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

She  wore  the  tartan  plaid  of  her  country,  adjnsted  so  as  partly 
to  cover  her  head,  and  partly  to  fall  back  over  her  shoulders. 
A  quantity  of  fair  hair,  disposed  with  great  simplicity  and 
neatness,  appeared  in  front  of  her  round  and  good-humored 
face,  to  which  the  solemnity  of  her  errand,  and  her  sense  of 
the  Duke's  rank  and  importance,  gave  an  appearance  of  deep 
awe,  but  not  of  slavish  fear  or  fluttered  bashfulness.  The 
rest  of  Jeanie's  dress  was  in  the  style  of  Scottish  maidens  of 
her  own  class,  but  arranged  with  that  scrupulous  attention  to 
neatness  and  cleanliness  which  we  often  find  united  with  that 
purity  of  mind  of  which  it  is  a  natural  emblem. 

She  stopped  near  the  entrance  of  the  room,  made  her  deep- 
est reverence,  and  crossed  her  hands  unon  her  bosom,  without 
uttering  a  syllable.  The  Duke  of  Argyle  advanced  towards 
her  ;  and  if  she  admired  his  graceful  deportment  and  rich 
dress,  decorated  with  the  orders  which  had  been  deservedly 
bestowed  on  him,  his  courteous  manner,  and  quick  and  intelli- 
gent cast  of  countenance,  he,  on  his  part,  was  not  less,  or  less 
deservedly,  struck  with  the  quiet  simplicity  and  modesty  ex- 
pressed in  the  dress,  manners,  and  countenance  of  his  humble 
countrywoman. 

'•  Did  you  wish  to  speak  with  me,  my  bonny  lass  ?  "  said 
the  Duke,  using  the  encouraging  epithet  which  at  once  acknowl- 
edged the  connection  betwixt  them  as  country-folk ;  "  or  did 
you  wish  to  see  the  Duchess  ?  " 

"  My  business  is  with  your  honor,  my  Lord — I  mean  your 
Lordship's  Grace.'' 

"And  what  is  it,  my  good  girl  ?"  said  the  Duke,  in  the 
same  mild  and  encouraging  tone  of  voice.  Jeanie  looked  at 
the  attendant.  "Leave  us,  Archibald,"  said  the  Duke,  "and 
wait  in  the  ante-room."  The  domestic  retired.  "  And  now 
sit  down,  my  good  lass,"  said  the  Duke  ;  "  take  your  breath — 
take  your  time,  and  tell  me  whatyouhavegottosay.  I  guess 
by  your  dress  you  are  just  come  up  from  poor  old  Scotland. 
Did  you  come  througli  tlie  streets  in  your  tartan  plaid  ?  " 

"No,  sir,"  said  Jeanie  ;  "a  friend  brought  me  in  ane  o' 
their  street  coaches — a  very  decent  woman,"  she  added,  her 
courage  increasing  as  she  became  familiar  with  the  sound  of 
her  own  voice  in  such  a  presence  ;  "  your  Lordship's  Grace 
kens  her  :  it's  Mrs.  Glass,  at  the  sign  o'  the  Thistle.'' 

"  0,  my  worthy  snuff  merchant !  I  have  always  a  chat 
with  Mrs.  Glass  when  I  purchase  my  Scotch  high-dried.  Well, 
but  your  business,  my  bonny  woman  :  time  and  tide,  you 
know,  wait  for  no  one." 

"  Your  honor — I  beg  your  Lordsiiip's  pardon,  I  mean  your 


THE  HEART  OF  MTDLOTHTAN  858 

(xrace  " — for  it  must  be  noticed  that  this  matter  of  addressing 
the  Duke  by  his  appropriate  title  had  been  anxiously  inculcated 
upon  Jeanie  by  her  friend  Mrs.  Glass,  in  whose  eyes  it  was  a 
matter  of  such  importance  that  her  last  words,  as  Jeanie  left 
the  coach  were,  "  Mind  to  say  your  Grace  ;"  and  Jeanie,  who 
had  scarce  ever  in  her  life  spoke  to  a  person  of  higher  quality 
than  the  Laird  of  Dumbiedikes,  found  great  difficulty  in  ar- 
ranging her  language  according  to  the  rules  of  ceremony. 

The  Duke,  who  saw  her  embarrassment,  said,  with  his 
usual  affability,  *'  Never  mind  my  Grace,  lassie  ;  just  speak  out 
a  plain  tale,  and  show  you  have  a  Scotch  tongue  in  your  head." 

"  Sir,  I  am  muckle  obliged.  Sir,  I  am  the  sister  of  that 
poor  unfortunate  criminal,  Effie  Deans,  who  is  ordered  for 
execution  at  Edinburgli." 

''Ah  !"  said  the  Duke,  ''I  have  heard  of  that  unhappy 
story,  I  think — a  case  of  child-murder,  under  a  special  Act  of 
Parliament.  Duncan  Forbes  mentioned  it  at  dinner  the  other 
day." 

^'  And  I  was  come  up  frae  the  North,  sir,  to  see  what  could 
be  done  for  her  in  the  way  of  getting  a  reprieve  or  pardon,  sir, 
or  the  like  of  that." 

"  Alas  !  my  poor  girl,"  said  the  Duke,  *'you  have  made  a 
long  and  a  sad  journey  to  very  little  purpose.  Your  sister  is 
ordered  for  execution." 

"But  I  am  given  to  understand  that  there  is  law  for  re- 
prieving her,  if  it  is  in  the  king's  pleasure,"  said  Jeanie. 

''Certainly  there  is,"  said  the  Duke  ;  "but  that  is  purely 
in  the  king's  breast.  The  crime  has  been  but  too  common; 
the  Scotch  crown  lawyers  think  it  is  right  there  should  be  an 
example.  Then  the  late  disorders  in  Edinburgh  luive  excited 
a  prejudice  in  government  against  the  nation  at  large,  which 
they  think  can  only  be  managed  by  measures  of  intimidation 
and  severity.  What  argument  have  you,  my  poor  girl,  except 
the  warmth  of  your  sisterly  affection  to  offer  against  all  this  ? 
What  is  your  interest  ?     What  friends  have  you  at  court  ?  " 

"  None,  excepting  God  and  your  Grace,"  said  Jeanie,  still 
keeping  her  ground  resolutely,  however. 

"Alas  !"  said  the  Duke,  "I  could  almost  say  with  old 
Ormond,  that  there  could  not  be  any  whose  influence 'was 
smaller  with  kings  and  ministers.  It  is  a  cruel  part  of  our 
situation,  young  woman — I  mean  of  the  situation  of  men  in 
my  circumstances — that  the  public  ascribe  to  them  influence 
which  they  do  not  possess ;  and  that  individuals  are  led  to  ex- 
pect from  them  assistance  which  we  liave  no  means  of  render- 
iag.     But  candor  and  plain  dealing  is  in  the  power  of  everr 


854  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

one,  and  I  must  not  let  you  imagine  you  have  resources  in  my 

influence  wbicli  do  not  exist,  to  make  your  distress  the  heavier. 
I  have  no  means  of  averting  your  sister's  fate.     She  must  die."' 

''We  must  a'  die,  sir,"  said  Jeanie ;  "it  is  our  common 
doom  for  our  fatliers  transgression  ;  but  we  shouldna  liasten 
ilk  other  out  o'  the  world,  that's  what  your  honor  kens  better 
than  me." 

"  My  good  young  woman,"  said  the  Duke,  mildly,  "  we  are 
all  apt  to  blame  the  law  under  which  we  immediately  suffer  ; 
but  you  seem  to  have  been  well  educated  in  your  line  of  life, 
and  you  must  know  that  it  is  alike  the  law  of  God  and  man 
that  the  murderer  shall  surely  die." 

"  But,  sir,  Effie — that  is,  my  poor  sister,  sir — canna  be 
proved  to  be  a  murderer  ;  and  if  she  be  not,  and  the  law  take 
her  life  notwithstanding,  wha  is  it  that  is  the  murderer  then  ?  " 

''I  am  no  lawyer,"  said  the  Duke  ;  "and  I  own  I  think 
the  statute  a  very  severe  one." 

"  You  are  a  law-maker,  sir,  with  your  leave  ;  and  therefore 
ye  have  power  over  tlie  law,"  answered  Jeanie. 

"Not  in  my  individual  capacity,"  said  the  Duke  ;  "though, 
as  one  of  a  large  body,  I  have  a  voice  in  the  legislation.  But 
that  cannot  serve  you  ;  nor  have  I  at  present — I  care  not  who 
knows  it — so  much  personal  influence  with  the  sovereign  as 
would  entitle  me  to  ask  from  him  the  most  insignificant  favor. 
What  could  tempt  you,  young  woman,  to  address  yourself  to 
me?" 

'^  It  was  yoursell,  sir.'* 

''  Myself  ?  "  he  replied.  "  I  am  sure  you  have  never  seen 
me  before." 

"  No,  sir ;  but  &'  the  world  kens  that  the  Duke  of  Argyle 
is  his  country's  friend  ;  and  that  ye  fight  for  the  right,  and 
speak  for  the  right,  and  that  there's  nane  like  you  in  our 
present  Israel,  and  so  they  that  think  themselves  wranged 
draw  to  refuge  under  your  shadow ;  and  if  ye  wunna  stir  to 
save  the  blood  of  an  innocent  countrywoman  of  your  ain,  what 
should  we  expect  frae  Southrons  and  strangers  ?  And  maybe 
I  had  another  reason  for  troubling  your  honor." 

"And  what  is  that  ?"  asked  the  Duke. 

"I  hae  understood  from  my  father  that  your  honor's 
house,  and  especially  your  gu desire  and  his  father,  laid  down 
their  lives  on  the  scaffold  in  the  persecuting  time.  And  my 
father  was  honored  to  gie  his  testimony  baith  in  the  cage  and 
in  the  pillory,  as  is  specially  mentioned  in  the  books  of  Pe- 
ter [Patrick]  Walker,  the  packman,  that  your  honor,  I  dare 
say,  kens,  for  he  uses  maist  partly  the  westland  of  Scotland. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  35b 

And,  sir,  there's  ane  that  takes  concern  in  me  that  wished  me 
to  gang  to  your  Grace's  presence,  for  his  gudesire  had  done 
your  gracious  gudesire  some  good  turn,  as  ye  will  see  frae 
these  papers/' 

With  these  words,  she  delivered  to  the  Duke  the  little 
parcel  whicli  she  had  received  from  Butler.  He  opened  it, 
and  in  the  envelope  read  with  some  surprise,  ''Muster-roll  of 
the  men  serving  in  the  troop  of  that  godly  gentleman,  Cap- 
tain Salathiel  Bangtext — Obadiah  Muggleton,  Sin-Despise 
Double-knock,  Stand-fast-in-faith  Gipps,  Turn-to-the-right 
Thwack-away.  What  the  deuce  is  this  ?  A  list  of  Praise- 
God  Bareboues'  Parliament,  I  think,  or  of  old  Noll's  evan- 
gelical army  ;  tliat  last  fellow  should  understand  his  wheelings, 
to  judge  by  his  name.   But  wliat  does  all  this  mean,  my  girl  ?'' 

"It  was  the  other  paper,  sir,"  said  Jeanie,  somewhat 
abashed  at  the  mistake. 

"  0,  this  is  my  unfortunate  grandfather's  hand  sure 
enough :  '  To  all  who  may  have  friendship  for  the  house  of 
Argyle,  these  are  to  certify  that  Benjamin  [Stephen]  Butler, 
of  Monk's  regiment  of  dragoons,  having  been,  under  God, 
the  means  of  saving  my  life  from  four  English  troopers  who 
were  about  to  slay  me,  I,  having  no  other  present  means  of 
recompense  in  my  power,  do  give  him  this  acknowledgment, 
hoping  that  it  may  be  useful  to  him  or  his  during  these 
troublesome  times  ;  and  do  conjure  my  friends,  tenants,  kins- 
men, and  whoever  will  do  aught  for  me,  either  in  the  Highlands 
or  Lowlands,  to  protect  and  assist  the  said  Benjamin  [Ste- 
plien]  Butler,  and  his  friends  or  family,  on  their  lawful  oc- 
casions, giving  them  such  countenance,  maintenance,  and 
supply  as  may  correspond  with  the  benefit  he  hath  bestowed 
on  me.     Witness  my  hand —  Lorne.' 

'*  This  is  a  strong  injunction.  This  Benjamin  [Stephen] 
Butler  was  your  grandfather,  I  suppose  ?  You  seem  too  young 
to  have  been  his  daughter." 

"He  was  nae  akin  to  me,  sir  ;  he  was  grandfather  to  ane 
— to  a  neighbor's  son — to  a  sincere  weel-wisher  of  mine,  sir,'^ 
dropping  her  little  courtesy  as  she  spoke. 

"0,  I  understand,"  said  the  Duke — "a  true-love  affair. 
He  was  the  grandsire  of  one  you  are  engaged  to  ?  " 

"One  I  was  engaged  to,  sir,"  said  Jeanie,  sighing;  *'but 
this  unhappy  business  of  my  poor  sister " 

"  What !  "  said  the  Duke,  hastily  ;  "he  has  not  deserted 
you  on  that  account,  has  he  ?  " 

"  No,  sir  ;  he  wad  be  the  last  to  leave  a  friend  in  difficul- 


356  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

ties,"  said  Jeanie  ;  "  but  I  mann  think  for  him  as  weel  as  for 
mysell.  He  is  a  clergyman,  sir,  and  it  would  not  beseem  him 
to  marry  the  like  of  me,  wi'  this  disgrace  on  my  kindred." 

**  Yon  are  a  singular  young  woman,"  said  the  Duke.  "You 
seem  to  me  to  think  of  every  one  before  yourself.  And  have 
yon  really  come  up  from  Edinburgh  on  foot  to  attempt  this 
hopeless  solicitation  for  your  sister's  life  ?" 

"  It  was  not  a'thegither  on  foot,  sir,"  answered  Jeanie  ; 
*'  for  I  sometimes  got  a  cast  in  a  wagon,  and  I  had  a  horse 
from  Ferrybridge,  and  then  the  coach " 

''  Well,  never  mind  all  that,"  interrupted  the  Duke. 
*'  What  reason  have  you  for  thinking  your  sister  innocent  ?  " 

"  Because  she  has  not  been  proved  guilty,  as  will  appear 
from  looking  at  these  papers."  • 

She  put  into  his  hand  a  note  of  the  evidence  and  copies 
of  her  sister's  declaration.  These  papers  Butler  had  procured 
after  her  departure,  and  Saddletree  had  them  forwarded  to 
London,  to  Mrs.  Glass's  care  ;  so  that  Jeanie  found  the  docu- 
ments, so  necessary  for  supporting  her  suit,  lying  in  readiness 
at  her  arrival. 

*'  Sit  down  in  that  chair,  my  good  girl,"  said  the  Duke, 
''until  I  glance  over  the  papers." 

She  obeyed,  and  watched  with  the  utmost  anxiety  each 
change  in  his  countenance  as  he  cast  his  eye  through  the 
papers  briefly,  yet  with  attention,  and  making  memoranda  as 
he  went  along.  After  reading  them  hastily  over,  he  looked 
up,  and  seemed  about  to  speak,  yet  changed  his  purpose,  as  if 
afraid  of  committing  himself  by  giving  too  hasty  an  opinion, 
and  read  over  again  several  passages  which  he  had  marked  as 
being  most  important.  All  this  he  did  in  shorter  time  than 
can  be  supposed  by  men  of  ordinary  talents ;  for  his  mind 
was  of  that  acute  and  penetrating  character  which  discovers, 
with  the  glance  of  intuition,  what  facts  bear  on  the  particu- 
lar point  that  chances  to  be  subjected  to  consideration.  At 
length  he  rose,  after  a  few  minutes'  deep  reflection.  "  Young 
woman,"  said  he, ''  your  sister's  case  must  certainly  be  termed 
a  hard  one." 

"  God  bless  you,  sir,  for  that  very  word  !"  said  Jeanie. 

"  It  seems  contrary  to  the  genius  of  British  law,"  con- 
tinued the  Duke,  "  to  take  that  for  granted  which  is  not 
proved,  or  to  punish  with  death  for  a  crime  which,  for  aught 
the  prosecutor  has  been  able  to  show,  may  not  have  been 
committed  at  all." 

"  God  bless  you,  sir ! "  again  said  Jeanie,  who  had  risen 
from  her  seat,  and,  with  clasped  hands,  eyes  glif,tering  through 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  357 

tears,  and  features  which  trembled  with  anxiety,  drank  in 
every  word  which  the  Duke  uttered. 

"  But,  alas !  my  poor  girl,"  he  continued,  ''  what  good 
will  my  opinion  do  you,  unless  I  could  impress  it  upon  those 
in  whose  hands  your  sister's  life  is  placed  by  the  law  ?  Besides, 
I  am  no  lawyer  ;  and  I  must  speak  with  some  of  our  Scottish 
gentlemen  of  the  gown  about  the  matter." 

"  0,  but,  sir,  what  seems  reasonable  to  your  honor  will 
certainly  be  the  same  to  them,"  answered  Jeanie. 

"I  do  not  know  that,"  replied  the  Duke;  "ilka  man 
buckles  his  belt  his  ain  gate — you  know  our  old  Scotch  prov- 
erb ?  But  you  shall  not  have  placed  this  reliance  on  me 
altogether  in  vain.  Leave  these  papers  with  me,  and  you 
shall  liear  from  me  to-morrow  or  next  day.  Take  care  to  be 
at  home  at  Mrs.  Glass's,  and  ready  to  come  to  me  at  a  mo- 
ment's warning.  It  will  be  unnecessary  for  you  to  give 
Mrs.  Glass  the  trouble  to  attend  you ;  and,  by  the  by,  you 
will  please  to  be  dressed  just  as  you  are  at  present." 

''  I  wad  liae  putten  on  a  cap,  sir,"  said  Jeanie,  "but  your 
honor  kens  it  isna  the  fashion  of  my  country  for  single 
women  ;  and  I  judged  that  being  sae  mony  hundred  miles 
frae  hame,  your  Grace's  heart  wad  warm  to  the  tartan,"  look- 
ing at  the  corner  of  her  plaid. 

"  You  judged  quite  right,"  said  the  Duke.  "  I  know  the 
full  value  of  the  snood  ;  and  MacCallummore's  heart  will  be  as 
cold  as  death  can  make  it  when  it  does  not  warm  to  the  tartan. 
Now,  go  away,  and  don't  be  out  of  the  way  when  I  send." 

Jeanie  replied,  "  There  is  little  fear  of  that,  sir,  for  I  have 
little  heart  to  go  to  see  sights  amang  this  wilderness  of  black 
houses.  But  if  I  might  say  to  your  gracious  honor,  that  if 
ye  ever  condescend  to  sjieak  to  ony  ane  that  is  of  greater  de- 
gree than  yoursell,  though  maybe  it  is  nae  civil  in  me  to  say 
sae,  just  if  you  would  think  there  can  be  nae  sic  odds  between 
you  and  them  as  between  poor  Jeanie  Deans  from  St,  Leonardos 
and  the  Duke  of  Argyle ;  and  so  dinna  be  chappit  back  or 
cast  down  wi'  the  first  rough  answer." 

"  I  am  not  apt,"  said  the  Duke,  laughing,  "  to  mind  rough 
answers  much.  Do  not  you  hope  too  much  from  what  I  have 
promised.  I  will  do-  my  best ;  but  God  has  the  hearts  of 
kings  in  His  own  hand." 

Jeanie  courtesied  reverently  and  withdrew,  attended  by 
the  Duke's  gentleman,  to  her  hackney-coach,  with  a  respect 
which  her  appearance  did  not  demand,  but  which  was  perhaps 
paid  to  the  length  of  the  interview  with  which  his  master  liad 
honored  her. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 

Ascend, 
While  radiant  summer  opens  all  its  pride, 
Thy  hill,  delightful  Shene  1    Here  let  us  sweep 
The  boundless  landscape. 

Thomson. 

Prom  lier  kind  and  officions,  but  somewliat  gossiping  friend, 
Mrs.  Glass,  Jeanie  underwent  a  very  close  catechism  on  their 
road  to  the  Strand,  where  the  Thistle  of  the  good  lady  flour- 
ished in  full  glory,  and,  with  its  legend  of  Nemo  me  impune, 
distinguished  a  shop  then  well  known  to  all  Scottish  folk  of 
high  and  low  degree. 

"  And  were  you  sure  aye  to  say  'Your  Grace '  to  him  ?" 
said  the  good  old  lady  ;  "  for  ane  should  make  a  distinction 
between  MacCallummore  and  the  bits  o^  southern  bodies  that 
they  ca'  lords  here  :  there  are  as  mony  o^  them,  Jeanie,  as 
would'gar  ane  think  they  mauncost  but  little  fash  in  the  mak- 
ing. Some  of  them  I  wadna  trust  wi'  six  penniesworth  of 
black  rappee ;  some  of  them  I  wadna  gie  mysell  the  trouble  to 
put  up  a  hapnyworth  in  brown  paper  for.  But  I  hope  you 
showed  your  breeding  to  the  Duke  of  Argyle,  for  what  sort  of 
folk  would  he  think  your  friends  in  London,  if  you  had  been 
lording  him,  and  him  a  duke  ?  " 

"lie  didna  seem  muckle  to  mind,**  said  Jeanie;  "he 
kennVl  that  I  was  landward  bred.** 

' '  Weel,  weel,**  answered  the  good  lady.  "  His  Grace  kens 
me  weel  ;  so  I  am  the  less  anxious  about  it.  I  never  fill  his 
snufE-box  but  he  says,  'How  d'ye  do,  good  Mrs.  Glass  ?  Hov/ 
are  all  our  friends  in  the  North  ?  *  or  it  may  be — '  Have  ye 
heard  from  the  North  lately  ?  *  And  you  may  be  sure  I  make 
my  best  courtesy,  and  answer,  '  My  Lord  Duke,  I  hope  your 
Grace's  noble  Duchess  and  your  Grace's  young  ladies  are  well ; 
and  I  hope  the  snuff  continues  to  give  your  Grace  satisfaction.' 
And  then  ye  will  see  the  people  in  the  shop  begin  to  look  about 
them  ;  and  if  there's  a  Scotchman,  as  there  may  be  three  oi 
half  a  dozen,  aff  go  the  hats,  and  mony  a  look  after  him,  and 
'  There  goes  the  Prince  of  Scotland,  God  bless  him  !  *  But 
ye  have  not  told  me  yet  the  Tery  words  he  said  t'ye,*' 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  S.'iO 

Jeanie  had  no  intention  to  be  quite  so  commnnicative 
She  had,  as  the  reader  may  have  observed,  some  of  the  caution 
and  shrewdness,  as  well  as  of  the  simplicity,  of  iier  country. 
She  answered  generally,  that  the  Duke  had  received  her  very 
compassionately,  and  had  promised  to  interest  himself  in  her 
sister's  affair,  and  to  let  her  hear  from  him  in  the  course  of  the 
next  day,  or  the  day  after.  She  did  not  choose  to  make  any 
mention  of  his  having  desired  her  to  be  in  readiness  to  attend 
him,  far  less  of  his  hint  that  she  should  not  bring  her  land- 
lady. So  that  honest  Mrs.  Glass  was  obliged  to  remain  sat- 
isfied with  the  general  intelligence  above  mentioned,  after 
having  done  all  she  could  to  extract  more. 

It  may  easily  be  conceived  that,  on  the  next  day,  Jeanie 
declined  all  invitations  and  inducements,  whether  of  exercise 
or  curiosity,|to  walk  abroad,  and  continued  to  inhale  the  close 
and  somewhat  professional  atmosphere  of  Mrs.  Glass's  small 
parlor.  The  latter  flavor  it  owed  to  a  certain  cupboard,  con- 
taining, among  other  articles,  a  few  canisters  of  real  Havana, 
which,  whether  from  respect  to  the  manufacturer  or  out  of 
a  reverent  fear  of  the  exciseman,  Mrs.  Glass  did  not  care 
to  trust  in  the  open  shop  below,  and  which  communicated  to 
the  room  a  scent  that,  however  fragrant  to  the  nostrils  of  the 
connoisseur,  was  not  very  agreeable  to  those  of  Jeanie. 

''Dear  sirs,"  she  said  to  herself,  "1  wonder  how  my 
cousin's  silk  manty,  and  her  gowd  watch,  or  onything  in  the 
world,  can  be  worth  sitting  sneezing  all  her  life  in  this  little 
stifling  room,  and  might  walk  on  green  braes  if  she  liked." 

Mrs.  Glass  was  equally  surprised  at  her  cousin's  reluctance 
to  .stir  abroad  and  her  indifference  to  the  fine  sights  of  Lon- 
don. "  It  would  always  help  to  pass  away  the  time,"  she 
said,  "to  have  something  to  look  at,  though  ane  loas  in  dis- 
tress." 

But  Jeanie  was  unpersuadable. 

The  day  after  her  interview  with  the  Duke  was  spent  in 
that  "•'  hope  delayed,  which  maketh  the  heart  sick."  Minutes 
glided  after  minutes  ;  hours  fled  after  hours  ;  it  became  too  late 
to  have  any  reasonable  expectation  of  hearing  from  the  Duke 
that  day ;  yet  the  hope  which  she  disowned,  she  could  not 
altogether  relinquish,  and  her  heart  throbbed,  ancl  her  ears 
tingled,  with  every  casual  sound  in  the  shop  below.  It  was  in 
vain.  The  day  wore  away  in  the  anxiety  of  protracted  and 
fruitless  expectation. 

The  next  morning  commenced  in  the  same  manner.  But 
before  noon  a  well-dressed  gentleman  entered  Mrs.  Glass's 
shop,  and  requested  to  see  a  young  woman  from  Scotland. 


360  WAVERLEY  NOVEIS 

"'That  will  be  my  cousin,  Jeanie  Deans,  Mr,  Archibald/* 
said  Mrs.  Glass,  with  a  courtesy  of  recognizance.  "  Have  yon 
any  message  for  her  from  his  Grace  the  Duke  of  Argyle,  Mr. 
Archibald  ?     I  will  carry  it  to  her  in  a  moment." 

"I  believe  I  must  give  her  the  trouble  of  stepping  down, 
Mrs.  Glass." 

*'Jeanie — Jeanie  Deans  ! "  said  Mrs.  Glass,  screaming  at 
the  bottom  of  the  little  staircase,  which  ascended  from  the 
corner  of  the  shop  to  the  higher  regions.  "Jeanie — Jeanie 
Deans,  I  say !  come  downstairs  instantly  ;  here  is  the  Duke 
of  Argyle's  groom  of  the  chambers  desires  to  see  you  directly." 
This  was  announced  in  a  voice  so  loud  as  to  make  all  who 
chanced  to  be  within  hearing  aware  of  the  imjjortant  com- 
munication. 

It  may  easily  be  supposed  that  Jeanie  did  not  tarry  long  in 
adjusting  herself  to  attend  the  summons,  yet  her  feet  almost 
failed  her  as  she  came  downstairs. 

''I  must  ask  the  favor  of  your  company  a  little  way,"  said 
Archibald,  with  civility. 

"I  am  quite  ready,  sir,"  said  Jeanie. 

''Is  my  cousin  going  out,  Mr.  Archibald  ?  then  I  willhae 
to  go  wi'  her,  no  doubt.  James  Easper — look  to  the  shop, 
James.  Mr.  Archibald,"  pushing  a  jar  towards  him, '*  you  take 
his  Grace's  mixture,  I  think  ?  Please  to  fill  your  box,  for  old 
acquaintance  sake,  while  I  get  on  my  things." 

Mr.  Archibald  transposed  a  modest  parcel  of  snuff  from 
the  jar  to  his  own  mull,  but  said  he  was  obliged  to  decline  the 
pleasure  of  Mrs.  Glass's  company,  as  his  message  was  particu- 
larly to  tlie  young  person. 

''Particularly  to  the  young  person!"  said  Mrs.  Glass; 
*'  is  not  that  uncommon,  Mr.  Archibald  ?  But  his  Grace  is 
the  best  judge;  and  you  are  a  steady  person,  Mr.  Archibald. 
It  is  not  every  one  that  comes  from  a  great  man's  house  I  would 
trust  my  cousin  with.  But,  Jeanie,  you  must  not  go  through 
the  streets  with  Mr.  Archibald  with  your  tartan  what-d'ye- 
call-it  there  upon  your  shoulders,  as  if  you  had  come  up  with 
a  drove  of  Higliland  cattle.  Wait  till  I  bring  down  my  silk 
cloak.     Why,  we'll  have  the  mob  after  you  ! " 

"I  have  a  hackney-coach  in  waiting,  madam,"  said  Mr. 
Archibald,  interrupting  the  officious  old  lady,  from  whom 
Jeanie  might  otherwise  have  found  it  difficult  to  escape,  "and 
I  believe  I  must  not  allow  her  time  for  any  change  of  dress." 

So  saying,  he  hurried  Jeanie  into  the  coach,  while  she  in- 
ternally praised  and  wondered  at  the  easy  manner  in  which  he 
shifted  off  Mrs.  Glass's  officious  offers  and  inquiries,  without 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  361 

mentioning  his  master's  orders,  or  going  into  any  explanation 
whatever. 

On  entering  the  coach,  Mr.  Archibald  seated  himself  in 
the  front  seat,  opposite  to  our  lieroine,  and  they  drove  on  in 
silence.  After  they  had  proceeded  nearly  half  an  hour,  with- 
out a  word  on  either  side,  it  occurred  to  Jeanie  that  the  dis- 
tance and  time  did  not  correspond  with  that  which  had  been 
occupied  by  her  journey  on  the  former  occasion  to  and  from 
the  residence  of  tlie  Duke  of  Argyle.  At  length  she  could  not 
help  asking  her  taciturn  companion,  '' Whilk  way  they  were 
going?" 

"  My  Lord  Duke  will  inform  you  himself,  madam,"  an- 
swered Archibald,  with  the  same  solemn  courtesy  which  marked 
his  whole  demeanor.  Almost  as  he  spoke  the  hackney-coach 
drew  up,  and  the  coachman  dismounted  and  opened  the  door. 
Archibald  got  out  and  assisted  Jeanie  to  get  down.  She  found 
herself  in  a  large  turnpike  road,  without  the  bounds  of  Lon- 
don, upon  the  other  side  of  which  road  was  drawn  up  a  plain 
chariot  and  four  horses,  the  panels  without  arms,  and  the  serv- 
ants without  liveries. 

"  You  have  been  punctual,  I  see,  Jeanie,"  said  the  Duke 
of  Argyle,  as  Archibald  opened  the  carriage  door.  "  You 
must  be  my  companion  for  the  rest  of  the  way.  Archibald 
will  remain  liere  with  the  hackney-coach  till  your  return." 

Ere  Jeanie  could  make  answer,  she  found  herself,  to  her 
no  small  astonishment,  seated  by  the  side  of  a  duke,  in  a  car- 
riage which  rolled  forward  at  a  rapid  yet  smooth  rate,  very 
different  in  both  particulars  from  the  lumbering,  jolting  ve- 
hicle which  she  had  just  left ;  and  which,  lumbering  and  jolt- 
ing as  it  was,  conveyed  to  one  who  had  seldom  been  in  a  coach 
before  a  certain  feeling  of  dignity  and  importance. 

"Young  woman,"  said  the  Duke,  "  after  thinking  as  at- 
tentively on  your  sister's  case  as  is  in  my  power,  I  continue  to 
be  impressed  with  the  belief  that  great  injustice  may  be  done 
by  the  execution  of  her  sentence.  So  are  one  or  two  liberal 
and  intelligent  lawyers  of  both  countries  whom  I  have  spoken 
with.  Nay,  pray  hear  me  out  before  you  thank  me.  I  have 
already  told  you  my  jiersohal  conviction  is  of  little  conse- 
quence, unless  I  could  impress  the  same  upon  others.  Now 
I  have  done  for  you  what  I  would  certainly  not  have  done  to 
serve  any  purpose  of  my  own  :  I  have  asked  an  audience  of  a 
lady  whose  interest  with  the  king  is  deservedly  very  high.  It 
has  been  allowed  me,  and  I  am  desirous  that  you  should  see 
her  and  speak  for  yourself.  You  have  no  occasion  to  be 
abashed  ;  tell  your  story  simply  as  you  did  to  me." 


363  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

"  I  am  much  obliged  to  your  Grace/^  said  Jeanie,  remem- 
bering Mrs.  Glass's  charge  ;  "  audi  am  sure,  since  I  have  had 
the  courage  to  speak  to  your  Grace  in  poor  Effie^s  cause,  I  have 
less  reason  to  be  shamefaced  in  speaking  to  a  leddy.  Bu  t,  sir, 
I  would  like  to  ken  what  to  ca'  her,  whether  '  Your  Grace,' 
or  'Your  Honor,'  or  'Your  leddyship,'  as  we  say  to  lairds 
and  leddies  in  Scotland,  and  I  will  take  care  to  mind  it ;  for 
I  ken  leddies  are  full  mair  particular  than  gentlemen  about 
their  titles  of  honor." 

''Yon  have  no  occasion  to  call  her  anything  but '  Madam.' 
Just  say  what  you  think  is  likely  to  make  the  best  impression. 
Look  at  me  from  time  to  time  :  if  I  put  my  hand  to  my  cravat 
so  [showing  her  the  motion],  you  will  stop  ;  but  I  shall  only 
do  this  when  you  say  anything  that  is  not  likely  to  please." 

"But,  sir,  your  Grace,"  said  Jeanie,  "if  it  wasna  ower 
muckle  trouble,  wad  it  no  be  better  to  tell  me  what  I  should 
say,  and  I  could  get  it  by  heart  ?" 

"  No,  Jeanie,  that  would  not  have  the  same  effect  :  that 
would  be  like  reading  a  sermon,  you  know,  which  we  good 
Presbyterians  think  has  less  unction  than  when  spoken  with- 
out book,"  replied  the  Duke.  "Just  speak  as  plainly  and 
boldly  to  this  lady  as  you  did  to  me  the  day  before  yesterday  ; 
and  if  you  can  gain  her  consent,  I'll  wad  ye  a  plack,  as  we  say 
in  the  North,  that  you  get  the  pardon  from  the  king." 

As  he  spoke  he  took  a  pamphlet  from  his  pocket  and  began 
to  read.  Jeanie  had  good  sense  and  tact,  which  constitute 
betwixt  them  that  which  is  called  natural  good-breeding.  She 
interpreted  the  Duke's  manoeuvre  as  a  hint  that  she  was  to 
ask  no  more  questions,  and  she  remained  silent  accordingly. 

The  carriage  rolled  rapidly  onward  through  fertile  meadows 
ornamented  with  splendid  old  oaks,  and  catching  occasionally 
a  glance  of  the  majestic  mirror  of  a  broad  and  placid  river. 
After  passing  through  a  pleasant  village,  the  equipage  stopped 
on  a  commanding  eminence,  where  tlie  beauty  of  English  land- 
scape was  displayed  in  its  utmost  luxuriance.  Here  the  Duke 
alighted,  and  desired  Jeanie  to  follow  him.  They  paused  for 
a  moment  on  the  brow  of  a  hill,  to  gaze  on  the  unrivalled 
landscape  which  it  presented.  A  huge  sea  of  verdure,  with 
crossing  and  intersecting  promontories  of  massive  and  tufted 
groves,  was  tenanted  by  numberless  flocks  and  herds,  which 
seemed  to  wander  unrestrained  and  unbounded  through  the 
rich  pastures.  The  Thames,  here  turreted  with  villas  and 
there  garlanded  with  forests,  moved  on  slowly  and  placidly 
like  the  mighty  monarch  of  the  scene,  to  whom  all  its  other 
beauties  were  but  accessories,  and  bore  on  his  bosom  a  hundred 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  868 

barks  and  skiffs,  whose  white  sails  and  gayly  fluttering  pen- 
nons gave  life  to  the  whole. 

The  Duke  of  Argyle  was,  of  course,  familiar  with  this 
scene  ;  but  to  a  man  of  taste  it  must  be.  always  new.  Yet,  as 
he  paused  and  looked  on  this  inimitable  landscape  with  the 
feeling  of  delight  which  it  must  give  to  the  bosom  of  every 
admirer  of  nature,  his  thoughts  naturally  reverted  to  his  own 
more  grand,  and  scarce  less  beautiful,  domains  of  Inverary. 
"  This  is  a  fine  scene, ^'  he  said  to  his  companion,  curious, 
perhaps,  to  draw  out  her  sentiments;  "we  have  nothing  like 
it  in  Scotland." 

"  It's  braw  rich  feeding  for  the  cows,  and  they  have  a  fine 
breed  o'  cattle  here,"  replied  Jeanie ;  ''but  I  like  just  as  weel 
to  look  at  the  craigs  of  Arthur's  Seat,  and  the  sea  coming  in 
ayont  them,  as  at  a'  thae  muckle  trees." 

The  Duke  smiled  at  a  reply  equally  professional  and  na- 
tional, and  made  a  signal  for  the  carriage  to  remain  where  it 
was.  Then  adopting  an  unfrequented  footpath,  he  conducted 
Jeanie  through  several  complicated  mazes  to  a  postern-door 
in  a  high  brick  wall.  It  was  shut ;  but  as  the  Duke  tapped 
slightly  at  it,  a  person  in  waiting  within,  after  reconnoitring 
through  a  small  iron  grate  contrived  for  the  purpose,  unlocked 
the  door  and  admitted  them.  They  entered,  and  it  was  im- 
mediately closed  and  fastened  behind  them.  This  was  all 
done  quickly,  the  door  so  instantly  closing,  and  the  person 
who  opened  it  so  suddenly  disappearing,  that  Jeanie  could 
not  even  catch  a  glimpse  of  his  exterior. 

They  found  themselves  at  the  extremity  of  a  deep  and  nar- 
row alley,  carpeted  with  the  most  verdant  and  close-shaven 
turf,  which  felt  like  velvet  under  their  feet,  and  screened  from 
the  sun  by  the  branches  of  the  lofty  elms  which  united  over 
the  path,  and  caiased  it  to  resemble,  in  the  solemn  obscurity 
of  the  light  which  they  admitted,  as  well  as  from  the  range 
of  columnar  stems,  and  intricate  union  of  their  arclied 
branches,  one  of  the  narrow  side  aisles  in  an  ancient  Gothic 
cathedral. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII 

I  beseech  you ; 
These  tears  beseech  you,  and  these  chaste  hands  woo  you, 
That  never  yet  were  heaved  but  to  tilings  holy — 
Things  Hke  yourself.     You  are  a  God  above  us  ; 
Be  as  a  God,  then,  full  of  sav  ing  mercy  ! 

The  Bloody  Brother. 

E]S"COUEAGED  as  slie  was  by  the  courteous  manners  of  her 
noble  countryman,  it  was  not  without  a  feeling  of  something 
like  terror  that  Jeanie  felt  herself  in  a  place  apparently  so 
lonely,  with  a  man  of  such  high  rank.  That  she  should  have 
been  permitted  to  wait  on  the  Duke  in  his  own  house,  and 
have  been  there  received  to  a  private  interview,  was  in  itself  an 
uncommon  and  distinguished  event  in  the  annals  of  a  life  so 
simple  as  liers  ;  but  to  find  herself  his  travelling  companion 
in  a  journey,  and  then  suddenly  to  be  left  alone  with  him  in 
so  secluded  a  situation,  had  something  in  it  of  awful  mystery. 
A  romantic  heroine  might  have  suspected  and  dreaded  the 
power  of  her  own  charms  ;  but  Jeanie  was  too  wise  to  let  such 
a  silly  thought  intrude  on  her  mind.  Still,  however,  she  had 
a  most  eager  desire  to  know  where  she  now  was,  and  to  whom 
she  was  to  be  presented. 

She  remarked  that  the  Duke's  dress,  though  still  such  as 
iudicated  rank  and  fashion  (for  it  was  not  the  custom  of  men 
of  quality  at  that  time  to  dress  themselves  like  their  own  coach- 
men or  grooms)  was  nevertheless  plainer  than  that  in  which 
she  had  seen  him  upon  a  former  occasion,  and  was  divested, 
in  particular,  of  all  those  badges  of  external  decoration  which 
intimated  superior  consequence.  In  short,  he  was  attired  as 
plainly  as  any  gentleman  of  fashion  could  appear  in  the  streets 
of  London  in  a  morning ;  and  this  circumstance  helped  to 
shake  an  opinion  which  Jeanie  began  to  entertain,  that  jjer- 
haps  he  intended  she  should  plead  her  cause  in  the  presence 
of  royalty  itself.  "  But,  surely,"  said  she  to  herself,  "  he  wad 
hae  putten  on  his  braw  star  and  garter,  an  he  had  thought  o' 
coming  before  the  face  of  Majesty  ;  and  after  a',  this  is  mair 
like  a  gentleman's  policy  than  a  royal  palace." 

There  «yas  some  sense  in  Jeanie's  reasoning  ;   yet  she  was 

864 


TEE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  365 

not  sufficiently  mistress  either  of  the  circumstances  of  eti- 
quette, or  the  jjarticular  relations  which  existed  betwixt  the 
government  and  the  Duke  of  Argyle,  to  form  an  accurate 
judgment.  The  Duke,  as  we  have  said,  was  at  this  time  in 
open  opposition  to  the  administration  of  Sir  Robert  Walpole, 
and  was  understood  to  be  out  of  favor  witli  the  royal  family, 
to  whom  he  had  rendered  such  important  services.  But  it  was 
a  maxim  of  Queen  Caroline  to  bear  herself  towards  her  polit- 
ical friends  with  such  caution  as  if  there  was  a  possibility  of 
their  one  day  being  her  enemies,  and  towards  political  oppo- 
nents with  the  same  degree  of  circumspection,  as  if  they  might 
again  become  friendly  to  her  measures.  Since  Margaret  of 
Anjou,  no  queen-consort  had  exercised  such  weight  in  the 
})olitical  aff':iirs  of  England,  and  the  personal  address  which 
she  displayed  on  many  occasions  had  no  small  share  in  reclaim- 
ing from  their  political  heresy  many  of  those  determined 
Tories  wliO,  after  the  reign  of  the  Stuarts  had  been  extin- 
guished in  the  person  of  Queen  Anne,  were  disposed  rather 
to  transfer  their  allegiance  to  her  brother,  the  Chevalier  de 
St.  George,  than  to  acquiesce  in  the  settlement  of  the  crown 
on  the  Hanover  family.  Her  husband,  whose  most  shining 
quality  was  courage  in  the  field  of  battle,  and  who  endured 
the  office  of  King  of  England  without  ever  being  able  to  ac- 
quire English  habits,  or  any  familiarity  with  English  disposi- 
tions, found  the  utmost  assistance  from  the  address  of  his 
partner  ;  and  while  he  jealously  affected  to  do  everything  ac- 
cording to  his  own  will  and  pleasure,  was  in  secret  prudent 
enough  to  take  and  follow  the  advice  of  his  more  adroit  con- 
sort. He  intrusted  to  her  the  delicate  office  of  determining 
the  various  degrees  of  favor  necessary  to  attach  the  wavering, 
or  to  confirm  such  as  were  already  friendly,  or  to  regain  those 
whose  good  will  had  been  lost. 

With  all  the  winning  address  of  an  elegant,  and,  according 
to  the  times,  an  accomplished  woman.  Queen  Caroline  pos- 
sessed the  masculine  soul  of  the  other  sex.  She  was  proud 
by  nature,  and  even  her  policy  could  not  always  temper  her 
expressions  of  displeasure,  although  few  were  more  ready  at 
repairing  any  false  step  of  this  kind,  when  her  prudence  came 
up  to  the  aid  of  her  passions.  She  loved  the  real  possession 
of  power  rather  than  the  show  of  it,  and  whatever  she  did  her- 
self that  was  either  wise  or  popular  she  always  desired  that 
the  king  should  have  the  full  credit  as  well  as  the  advantage 
of  the  measure,  conscious  that,  by  adding  to  his  respecta- 
bility, she  was  most  likely  to  maintain  her  own.  And  so 
desi^-ous  was  she  to  comply  with  all  his  tastes,  that,  when 


806  WAVERLET  NOVELS 

threatened  with  the  gout,  she  had  repeatedly  had  recourse  to 
checking  the  fit  by  the  use  of  the  cold  bath,  thereby  endan- 
gering her  life,  that  she  might  be  able  to  attend  the  king  in 
his  walks. 

It  was  a  very  consistent  part  of  Queen  Caroline's  charac- 
ter to  keep  up  many  private  correspondences  with  those  to 
whom  in  public  she  seemed  unfavorable,  or  who,  for  various 
reasons,  stood  ill  with  the  court.  By  this  means  she  kept  in 
her  hands  the  thread  of  many  a  political  intrigue,  and,  with- 
out pledging  herself  to  anything,  could  often  prevent  discon- 
tent from  becoming  hatred  and  opposition  from  exaggerating 
itself  into  rebellion.  If  by  any  accident  her  correspondence 
with  such  persons  chanced  to  be  observed  or  discovered,  which 
she  took  all  possible  pains  to  prevent,  it  was  represented  as  a 
mere  intercourse  of  society,  having  no  reference  to  politics  ; 
an  answer  with  which  even  the  prime  minister,  Sir  Kobert 
Walpole,  was  compelled  to  remain  satisfied,  when  he  discov- 
ered that  the  Queen  had  given  a  private  audience  to  Pulteney, 
afterwards  Earl  of  Bath,  his  most  formidable  and  most  invet- 
erate enemy. 

In  thus  maintaining  occasional  intercourse  with  several 
persons  who  seemed  most  alienated  from  the  crown,  it  may 
readily  be  supposed  that  Queen  Caroline  had  taken  care  not 
to  break  entirely  with  the  Duke  of  Argyle.  His  high  birth- 
his  great  talents,  the  estimation  in  which  he  was  held  in  his 
own  country,  the  great  services  which  he  had  rendered  the 
house  of  Brunswick  in  1715,  placed  him  high  in  that  rank  of 
persons  who  were  not  to  be  rashly  neglected.  He  had,  almost 
by  his  single  and  unassisted  talents,  stopped  the  irruption  of 
the  banded  force  of  all  the  Highland  chiefs  ;  there  was  little 
doubt  that,  with  the  slightest  encouragement,  he  could  put 
them  all  in  motion  and  renew  the  civil  war ;  and  it  was  well 
known  that  the  most  flattering  overtures  had  been  transmit- 
ted to  the  Duke  from  the  court  of  St.  Germains.  The  char- 
acter and  temper  of  Scotland  were  still  little  known,  and  it 
was  considered  as  a  volcano  which  might,  indeed,  slumber  for 
a  series  of  years,  but  was  still  liable,  at  a  moment  the  least  ex- 
pected, to  break  out  into  a  wasteful  eruption.  It  was  there- 
fore of  the  highest  importance  to  retain  some  hold  over  so 
important  a  personage  as  the  Duke  of  Argyle,  and  Caroline 
preserved  the  power  of  doing  so  by  means  of  a  lady  with 
whom,  as  wife  of  George  II.,  she  might  have  been  supposed 
to  be  on  less  intimate  terms. 

It  was  not  the  least  instance  of  the  Queen's  address  that 
she  had  contrived  that  one  of  her  principal  attendants.  Lady 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  367 

Suffolk,  should  upifce  in  lier  own  person  the  two  apparently 
inconsistent  characters  of  her  husband's  mistress  and  her  own 
very  obsequious  and  complaisant  confidante.  By  this  dexter- 
ous management  the  Queen  secured  her  power  against  the 
danger  which  might  most  have  threatened  it — the  thwarting 
influence  of  an  ambitious  rival ;  cind  if  she  submitted  to  the 
mortification  of  being  obliged  to  connive  at  her  husband's  in- 
fidelity, she  was  at  least  guarded  against  what  she  might  think 
its  most  dangerous  effects,  and  was  besides  at  liberty  now  and 
then  to  bestow  a  few  civil  insults  upon  "  her  good  Howard,'' 
whom,  however,  in  general,  slie  treated  with  great  decorum.* 
Lady  Suffolk  lay  under  strong  obligations  to  the  Duke  of  Ar- 
gyle,  for  reasons  which  may  be  collected  from  Horace  Wal- 
pole's  Eeminiscences  of  that  reign,  and  through  her  means 
the  Duke  had  some  occasional  corresjoondence  with  Queen 
Caroline,  much  interrupted,  however,  since  the  part  he  had 
taken  in  the  debate  concerning  the  Porteous  mob,  an  affair 
which  the  Queen,  though  somewhat  unreasonably,  was  dis- 
posed to  resent  rather  as  an  intended  and  premeditated  inso- 
lence to  her  own  person  and  authority  than  as  a  sudden 
ebullition  of  popular  vengeance.  Still,  however,  the  com- 
munication remained  open  betwixt  them,  though  it  had  been 
of  late  disused  on  both  sides.  These  remarks  will  be  found 
necessary  to  understand  the  scene  which  is  about  to  be  pre- 
sented to  the  reader. 

From  the  narrow  alley  which  they  had  traversed,  the  Duke 
turned  into  one  of  the  same  character,  but  broader  and  still 
longer.  Here,  for  the  first  time  since  they  had  entered  these 
gardens,  Jeanie  saw  jDcrsons  approaching  them. 

They  were  two  ladies,  one  of  whom  walked  a  little  behind 
the  other,  yet  not  so  much  as  to  prevent  her  from  hearing  and 
replying  to  whatever  observation  was  addressed  to  her  by  the 
lady  who  walked  foremost,  and  that  without  her  having  the 
trouble  to  turn  her  person.  As  they  advanced  very  slowly, 
Jeanie  had  time  to  study  their  features  and  appearance.  The 
Duke  also  slackened  his  pace,  as  if  to  give  her  time  to  collect 
herself,  and  repeatedly  desired  her  not  to  be  afraid.  The  lady 
who  seemed  the  principal  person  had  remarkably  good  features, 
though  somewhat  injured  by  the  small-pox,  that  venomous 
scourge  which  each  village  Esculapius  (thanks  to  Jenner)  can 
now  tame  as  easily  as  their  tutelary  deity  subdued  the  python. 
The  lady's  eyes  were  brilliant,  her  teeth  good,  and  her  counte- 
nance formed  to  express  at  will  either  majesty  or  courtesy. 
Her  form,  though  rather  emhonpoint,  was  nevertheless  grace- 

*  See  Horace  Walpole's  Reviiniscences. 


368  WAVERLEY  NOVELS  *  ,       ' 

ful ;  and  the  elasticity  and  firmness  of  her  step  gave  no  room 
to  suspect,  what  was  actually  the  case,  that  she  suffered  oc- 
casionally from  a  disorder  the  most  unfavorable  to  pedestrian 
exercise.  Her  dress  was  rather  rich  than  gay,  and  her  man- 
ner commanding  and  noble. 

_:^3r  companion  was  of  lower  stature,  with  light  brown  hair 
and  expressive  blue  eyes.  Her  features,  v/ithout  being  ab- 
solutely regular,  were  perhaps  more  pleasing  than  if  they  had 
been  critically  handsome.  A  melancholy,  or  at  least  a  pensive, 
expression,  for  which  her  lot  gave  too  much  cause,  predomi- 
nated when  she  was  silent,  but  gave  way  to  a  pleasing  and 
good-humored  smile  when  she  spoke  to  any  one. 

When  they  were  with.in  twelve  or  fifteen  yards  of  these 
ladies,  the  Duke  made  a  sign  that  Jeanie  should  stand  still, 
and  stepping  forward  himself,  with  the  grace  whicli  was  nat- 
ural to  him,  made  a  profound  obeisance,  which  was  formally, 
yet  in  a  dignified  manner,  returned  by  the  personage  whom 
he  approached. 

"  I  hope,"  she  said,  with  an  affable  and  condescending 
smile,  "  that  I  see  so  great  a  stranger  at  court  as  the  Duke  of 
Argyle  has  been  of  late  in  as  good  health  as  his  friends  there 
and  elsewhere  could  wish  him  to  enjoy." 

The  Duke  replied,  "That  he  had  been  perfectly  well ;" 
and  added,  "  that  the  necessity  of  attending  to  the  public  busi- 
ness before  the  House,  as  well  as  the  time  occupied  by  a  late 
journey  to  Scotland,  had  rendered  him  less  assiduous  in  pay- 
ing his  duty  at  the  levee  and  drawing-room  tlian  he  could 
have  desired." 

"  "When  your  Grace  can  find  time  for  a  duty  so  frivolous," 
replied  the  Queen,  "you  are  aware  of  your  title  to  be  well  re- 
ceived. I  hope  my  readiness  to  comply  with  the  wish  which 
you  expressed  yesterday  to  Lady  Suffolk  is  a  sufficient  proof 
that  one  of  the  royal  family,  at  least,  has  not  forgotten  ancient 
and  important  services,  in  resenting  something  which  resem- 
bles recent  neglect."  This  was  said  apparently  with  great 
good-humor,  and  in  a  tone  which  expressed  a  desire  of  con- 
ciliation. 

The  Duke  replied,  "  That  he  would  account  himself  the 
most  unfortunate  of  men,  if  he  could  be  supposed  capable  of 
neglecting  his  duty,  in  modes  and  circumstances  when  it  was 
expected  and  would  have  been  agreeable.  He  was  deeply 
gratified  by  the  honor  which  her  Majesty  was  now  doing  to 
him  personally  ;  and  he  trusted  she  would  soon  perceive  that 
it  was  in  a  matter  essential  to  his  Majesty's  interest  that  he 
had  the  boldness  to  give  her  this  trouble." 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  366 

*'YoTi  cannot  oblige  me  more,  my  Lord  Duke/'  replied 
the  Queen,  "  than  by  giving  me  the  advantage  of  your  lights 
and  experience  on  any  point  of  the  King's  service.  Your 
Grace  is  aware  that  I  can  only  be  tlie  medium  through  which 
the  matter  is  subjected  to  his  Majesty's  superior  wisdom  ;  but 
if  it  is  a  suit  which  respects  your  Grace  personally,  it  shall 
lose  no  support  by  being  preferred  tlirough  me." 

"It  is  no  suit  of  mine,  madam,"  replied  the  Duke  ;  "nor 
have  I  any  to  prefer  for  myself  personally,  although  I  feel  in 
full  force  my  obligation  to  your  Majesty.  It  is  a  business 
which  concerns  his  Majesty,  as  a  lover  of  justice  and  of  mercy, 
and  which,  I  am  convinced,  may  be  highly  useful  in  conciliat- 
ing the  unfortunate  irritation  which  at  present  subsists  among 
his  Majesty's  good  subjects  in  Scotland." 

There  were  two  parts  of  this  speech  disagreeable  to  Caro- 
line. In  the  first  place,  it  removed  the  flattering  notion  she 
had  adopted,  that  Argyle  designed  to  use  her  personal  inter- 
cession in  making  his  peace  with  the  administration,  and  re- 
covering the  employments  of  which  he  had  been  deprived  ; 
and  next,  she  was  displeased  that  he  should  talk  of  the  dis- 
contents in  Scotland  as  irritations  to  be  conciliated,  rather 
than  suppressed. 

Under  the  influence  of  these  feelings,  she  answered  hastily, 
"  That  his  Majesty  has  good  subjects  in  England,  my  Lord 
Duke,  he  is  bound  to  thank  God  and  the  laws ;  that  he  has 
subjects  in  Scotland,  I  think  he  may  thank  God  and  his 
sword." 

The  Duke,  though  a  courtier,  colored  slightly,  and  the 
Queen,  instantly  sensible  of  her  error,  added,  without  display- 
ing the  least  change  of  countenance,  and  as  if  the  words  had 
been  an  original  branch  of  the  sentence — "And  the  swords  of 
those  real  Scotchmen  who  are  friends  to  the  house  of  Bruns- 
wick, particularly  that  of  his  Grace  of  Argyle." 

"  My  sword,  madam,"  replied  the  Duke,  "  like  that  of  my 
fathers,  has  been  always  at  the  command  of  my  lawful  king 
and  of  my  native  country  :  I  trust  it  is  impossible  to  separate 
their  real  rights  and  interests.  But  the  present  is  a  matter  of 
more  private  concern,  and  respects  the  person  of  an  obscure 
individual." 

"What  is  the  affair,  my  Lord  ?"  said  the  Queen.  "Let 
us  find  out  what  we  are  talking  about,  lest  we  should  miscon- 
etme  and  misunderstand  each  other." 

*'  The  ma:ter,  madam,"  answered  the  Duke  of  Argyle, 
"regards  the  fate  of  an  unfortunate  young  woman  in  Scot- 
land, now  lying  under  sentence  of  death,  for  a  crime  of  which 


370  WAVERLET  NOVELS 

I  think  it  highly  probable  that  she  is  innocent.  And  my 
hiimble  petition  to  your  Majesty  is,  to  obtain  your  powerful 
intercession  with  the  King  for  a  pardon." 

It  was  now  the  Queen's  turn  to  color,  and  she  did  so  over 
cheek  and  brow,  neck  and  bosom.  She  paused  a  moment,  as 
if  unwilling  to  trust  her  voice  with  the  lirst  expression  of  her 
displeasure ;  and  on  assuming  an  air  of  dignit}-  and  an  austere 
regard  of  control,  she  at  length  replied,  "My  Lord  Duke,  I 
will  not  ask  your  motives  for  addressing  to  me  a  request  which 
circumstances  have  rendered  such  an  extraordinary  one.  Your 
road  to  the  King's  closet,  as  a  peer  and  a  privy-councillor, 
entitled  to  reqiiest  an  audience,  was  open,  without  giving  me 
the  pain  of  this  discussion.  /,  at  least,  have  had  enough  of 
Scotch  pardons." 

The  Duke  was  prepared  for  this  burst  of  indignation,  and 
he  was  not  shaken  by  it.  He  did  not  attempt  a  reply  while 
the  Queen  was  in  the  first  heat  of  displeasure,  but  remained 
in  the  same  firm  yet  respectful  posture  which  he  had  assumed 
during  the  interview.  The  Queen,  trained  from  her  situation 
to  self-command,  instantly  perceived  the  advantage  she  might 
give  against  herself  by  yielding  to  passion;  and  added,  in  the 
same  condescending  and  affable  tone  in  which  she  had  opened 
the  interview,  "You  must  allow  me  some  of  the  privileges  of 
the  sex,  my  Lord;  and  do  not  judge  im charitably  of  me, 
though  I  am  a  little  moved  at  the  recollection  of  the  gross  in- 
sult and  outrage  done  in  your  capital  city  to  the  royal  author- 
ity, at  the  very  time  when  it  was  vested  in  my  unworthy  per- 
son. Your  Grace  cannot  be  surprised  that  I  should  both  have 
felt  it  at  the  time  and  recollected  it  now." 

"  It  is  certainly  a  matter  not  speedily  to  be  forgotten,"  an- 
swered the  Duke.  "My  own  poor  thoughts  of  it  have  been 
long  before  your  Majesty,  and  I  must  have  expressed  myself 
very  ill  if  I  did  not  convey  my  detestation  of  the  murder  which 
was  committed  under  such  extraordinary  circumstances.  I 
might,  indeed,  be  so  unfortunate  as  to  differ  with  his  Majes- 
ty's advisers  on  the  degree  in  which  it  was  either  just  or  pol- 
itic to  punish  the  innocent  instead  of  the  guilty.  But  I  trust 
your  Majesty  will  permit  me  to  be  silent  on  a  topic  in  which 
my  sentiments  have  not  the  good  fortune  to  coincide  with 
those  of  more  able  men." 

"  We  will  not  prosecute  a  topic  on  which  we  may  probably 
differ,"  said  the  Queen.  "  One  word,  however,  I  may  say  in 
private  —  you  know  our  good  Lady  Suffolk  is  a  little  deaf  — 
the  Duke  of  Argyle,  when  disposed  to  renew  his  acquaintance 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN.  371 

with  his  master  and  mistress,  will  hardly  find  many  topics  on 
which  we  should  disagree." 

"  Let  me  hope/'  said  the  Duke,  bowing  profoundly  to  so 
flattering  an  intimation,  "  that  I  shall  not  bo  so  unfortunate 
as  to  have  found  one  on  the  present  occasion." 

"  I  must  first  impose  on  your  Grace  the  duty  of  confession," 
said  the  Queen,  "  before  I  grant  you  absolution.  What  is 
your  particular  interest  in  this  young  woman  ?  She  does  not 
seem  [and  she  scanned  Jeanie,  as  she  said  this,  with  the  eye  of 
a  connoisseur]  much  qualified  to  alarm  my  friend  the  Duch- 
ess's jealousy." 

''I  think  your  Majesty,"  replied  the  Duke,  smiling  in  his 
turn,  "  will  allow  my  taste  may  be  a  pledge  for  me  on  that 
score.'" 

"Then,  though  she  has  not  much  the  air  d'une grande 
dame,  I  suppose  she  is  some  thirtieth  cousin  in  the  terrible 
f^hapter  of  Scottish  genealogy  ?  " 

"  No,  madam,"  said  the  Duke  ;  "  but  I  wish  some  of  my 
nearer  relations  had  half  her  worth,  honesty,  and  affection." 

"  Her  name  must  be  Campbell,  at  least  ?  "  said  Queen  Car- 
oline. 

"No,  madam  ;  her  name  is  not  quite  so  distinguished,  if  I 
may  be  permitted  to  say  so,"  answered  the  Duke. 

"  Ah  !  but  she  comes  from  Inverary  or  Argyleshire  ?'* 
said  the  Sovereign. 

"  She  has  never  been  further  north  in  her  life  than  Edin- 
burgh, madam." 

"  Then  my  conjectures  are  all  ended,"  said  the  Queen,  "  and 
your  Grace  must  yourself  take  the  trouble  to  explain  the  af- 
fair of  your  joro^fe^ee." 

With  that  precision  and  easy  brevity  which  is  only  acquired 
by  habitually  conversing  in  the  higher  ranks  of  society,  and 
which  is  the  diametrical  opposite  of  that  protracted  style  of 
disquisition 

Which  squires  call  potter,  and  which  men  call  prose, 

the  Duke  explained  the  singular  law  under  which  Efiie  Deans 
had  received  sentence  of  death,  and  detailed  the  affectionate 
exertions  which  Jeanie  had  made  in  behalf  of  a  sister  for  whose 
sake  she  was  willing  to  sacrifice  all  but  truth  and  conscience. 
Queen  Caroline  listened  with  attention  ;  she  was  rather  fond, 
it  must  be  remembered,  of  an  argument,  and  soon  found  mat- 
ter in  what  the  Duke  told  her  for  raising  difficulties  to  hig  re- 
quest. 


37a  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

*'It  appears  to  me,  my  Lord/^  she  replied,  ''that  this  is 
a  severe  law.  But  still  it  is  adopted  upon  good  grounds,  I  am 
bound  to  suppose,  as  the  law  of  the  country,  and  the  girl  has 
been  convicted  under  it.  The  very  presumptions  which  the 
law  construes  into  a  positive  proof  of  guilt  exist  in  her  case ; 
and  all  tliat  your  Grace  has  said  concerning  the  possibility  of 
her  innocence  may  be  a  very  good  argument  for  annulling  the 
Act  of  Parliament,  but  cannot,  while  it  stands  good,  be  ad- 
mitted in  favor  of  any  individual  convicted  upon  the  statute.'" 

The  Duke  saw  and  avoided  the  snare ;  for  he  was  conscious 
that,  by  replying  to  the  argument,  he  must  have  been  inevita- 
bly led  to  a  discussion,  in  the  course  of  wliich  the  Queen  was 
likely  to  be  hardened  in  her  own  opinion,  until  she  became 
obliged,  out  oi  mere  respect  to  consistency,  to  let  the  crim- 
inal suffer.  '^If  your  Majesty,"  he  said,  "  would  condescend 
to  hear  my  poor  countrywoman  herself,  perhaps  she  may  find 
an  advocate  in  your  own  heart  more  able  than  I  am  to  combat 
the  doubts  suggested  by  your  understanding." 

The  Queen  seemed  to  acquiesce,  and  the  Duke  made  a  signal 
for  Jcanie  to  advance  from  the  spot  where  she  had  hitherto 
remained  watching  countenances  wliich  were  too  long  ac- 
customed to  suppress  all  apparent  signs  of  emotion  to  convey 
to  her  any  interesting  intelligence.  Her  Majesty  could  not 
help  smiling  at  the  awe-struck  manner  in  which  the  quiet, 
demure  figure  of  the  little  Scotchwoman  advanced  towards 
her,  and  yet  more  at  the  first  sound  of  her  broad  northern 
accent.  But  Jeanie  had  a  voice  low  and  sweetly  toned,  an 
admirable  tiling  in  woman,  and  eke  besought  "  her  Leddyship 
to  liave  pity  on  a  poor  misguided  young  creature,"  in  tones  so 
affecting  that,  like  the  notes  of-  some  of  her  native  songs, 
provincial  vulgarity  was  lost  in  pathos. 

"Stand  up,  young  woman,"  caid  the  Queen,  but  in  a  kind 
tone,  "  and  tell  me  wliat  sort  of  a  barbarous  people  your  coun- 
try-folk are,  where  ch:l-.-murder  is  become  so  common  as  to 
require  the  restraint  of  laws  like  yours  ?  " 

"  If  your  Loddyshi]^-  pleases,"  answered  Jeanie,  "  there  are 
"mony  places  beside  Scotland  where  mothers  are  unkind  to 
their  ain  flesh,  and  blood." 

It  must  be  observed,  that  the  disputes  between^George  the 
Second  and  Frederick,  Prince  of  Wales,  were  then  at  the 
highest,  and  that  the  good-natured  part  of  the  public  laid  the 
blame  on  the  Queen.  She  colored  highly,  and  darted  a  glance 
of  a  most  penetrating  character  firetat  Jeanie  and  thcr.  t  the 
Duke.  Both  sustained  it  unmoved — Jeanie  from  totvl  uncon- 
sciousness of  the  offence  she  had  given,  and  the  Duke  from 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  373 

his  habitual  composure.  But  in  his  heart  he  thought,  ''My 
unlucky  protegee  lias,  with  this  luckless  answer,  shot  dead, 
by  a  kind  of  chance-medley,  her  only  hope  of  success." 

Lady  Suffolk  good-humoredly  and  skilfully  interposed  in 
this  awkward  crisis.  "  You  should  tell  this  lady,"  she  said  to 
Jeanie,  "  the  particular  causes  which  render  this  crime  com- 
mon in  your  country." 

''Some  thinks  it's  the  kirk-session  ;  that  is,  it's  the — it^s 
the  cutty-stool,  if  your  Leddyship  pleases,"  said  Jeanie,  look- 
ing down  and  courtesying. 

"  The  what  ?"  said  Lady  Suffolk,  to  whom  the  phrase  was 
new,  and  who  besides  was  rather  deaf. 

"  That's  the  stool  of  repentance,  madam,  if  it  please  your 
Leddyship,"  answered  Jeanie,  "for  light  life  and  conversa- 
tion, and  for  breaking  the  seventh  command."  Here  she 
raised  her  eyes  to  the  Duke,  saw  his  hand  at  his  chin,  and, 
totally  unconscious  of  what  she  had  said  out  of  joint,  gave 
double  effect  to  the  innuendo  by  stoj^ping  short  and  looking 
embarrassed. 

As  for  Lady  Suffolk,  she  retired  like  a  covering  party 
which,  having  interposed  betwixt  their  retreating  friends  and 
the  enemy,  have  suddenly  drawn  on  themselves  a  fire  unex- 
pectedly severe. 

"  The  deuce  take  the  lass,"  thought  the  Duke  of  Argyle  to 
himself  ;  "■  there  goes  another  shot,  and  she  has  hit  with  both 
barrels  right  and  left ! " 

Lideed,  the  Duke  had  himself  his  share  of  the  confusion, 
for,  having  acted  as  master  of  ceremonies  to  this  innocent  of- 
fender, he  felt  much  in  the  circumstances  of  a  country  squire 
who,  having  introduced  his  spaniel  into  a  well-appointed  draw- 
ing-room, is  doomed  to  witness  the  disorder  and  damage  which 
arises  to  china  and  to  dress-gowns  in  consequence  of  its  un- 
timely frolics.  Jeanie's  last  chance-hit,  however,  obliterated 
the  ill  impression  which  had  arisen  from  the  first  ;  for  her 
Majesty  had  not  so  lost  the  feelings  of  a  M'ife  in  those  of  a 
Queen  but  that  she  could  enjoy  a  jest  at  the  expense  of  "her 
good  Suffolk."  She  turned  towards  the  Duke  of  Argyle  with  a 
smile,  which  marked  that  she  enjoyed  the  triumph,  anci  ob- 
served, "The  Scotch  are  a  rigidly  moral  people."  Then  again 
applying  herself  to  Jeanie,  she  asked  how  she  travelled  up  from 
Scotland. 

"  L^pon  my  foot  mostly,  madam,"  was  the  reply. 

"What,  all  that  immense  way  upon  foot  ?  How  far  can 
you  walk  in  a  day  ?" 

"t'ive-and-twonty  miles  and  a  bittock." 


374  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

"  And  a  what  ?  "  said  the  Queen,  looking  towards  the  Duke 
of  Argyle. 

"  And  about  five  miles  more/'  replied  the  Duke. 

**I  thought  I  was  a  good  walker/'  said  the  Queen,  ''but 
this  shames  me  sadly." 

"  May  your  Leddyship  never  hae  sae  weary  a  heart  that  ye 
canna  be  sensible  of  the  weariness  of  the  limbs  !  "  said  Jeanie. 

''  That  came  better  off,"  thought  the  Duke  ;  "  it's  the  first 
thing  she  has  said  to  the  purpose.", 

''And  I  didna  just  a'thegither  walk  the  haill  way  neither, 
for  I  had  whiles  the  cast  of  a  cart ;  and  I  had  the  cast  of  a 
horse  from  Ferrybridge,  and  divers  other  easements,"  said 
Jeanie,  cutting  short  her  story,  for  she  observed  the  Duke 
made  the  sign  he  had  fixed  upon. 

"  With  all  these  accommodations,"  answered  the  Queen, 
"  you  must  have  had  a  very  fatiguing  journey,  and,  I  fear,  to 
little  purpose  ;  since,  if  the  King  were  to  pardon  your  sister,  in 
all  probability  it  would  do  her  little  good,  for  I  suppose  your 
people  of  Edinburgh  would  hang  her  out  of  spite." 

"  She  will  sink  herself  now  outright,"  thought  the  Duke. 

But  he  was  wrong.  The  shoals  on  which  Jeanie  had  touched 
in  this  delicate  conversation  lay  underground,  and  were  un- 
known to  her  ;  this  rock  was  above  water,  and  she  avoided  it. 

"She  was  confident,"  she  said,  "  that  baith  town  and  coun- 
try wad  rejoice  to  see  his  Majesty  taking  compassion  on  a  poor 
vinfriended  creature." 

"  His  Majesty  has  not  found  it  so  in  a  late  instance,"  said 
the  Queen  ;  "  but  I  suppose  my  Lord  Duke  would  advise  him 
to  be  guided  by  the  votes  of  the  rabble  themselves  who  should 
be  hanged  and  who  spared  ? " 

"  No,  madam/'  said  the  Duke  ;  "  but  I  would  advise  his 
Majesty  to  be  guided  by  his  own  feelings,  and  those  of  his 
royal  consort ;  and  then,  I  am  sure,  punishment  will  only 
attach  itself  to  guilt,  and  even  tben  with  cautious  reluc- 
tance." 

"  Well,  my  Lord,"  said  her  Ma  j  ;sty,  "  all  these  fine  speeches 
do  not  convince  me  of  the  propriety  of  so  soon  showing  any 
mark  of  favor  to  your — I  suppose  I  must  not  say  rebellious  ? 
— but,  at  least,  your  very  disaffected  and  intractable  metrop- 
olis. Why,  the  whole  nation  is  in  a  league  to  screen  the  sav- 
age and  abominable  murderers  of  that  unhappy  man  ;  other- 
wise, how  is  it  possible  but  that,  of  so  many  perpetrators,  and 
engaged  in  so  public  an  action  for  such  a  length  of  time,  one 
at  least  mast  have  been  recognized  ?  Even  this  wench,  foi* 
anght  I  can  tell,  may  be  a  depository  of  the  secret.     Hark 


THE  HEART   OF  MIDLOTHIAN  378 

y^«,  yoang  woman,  had  yon  any  friends  engaged  in  the  Por- 
teous  mob  ?  " 

"  No,  madam,"  answered  Jeanie,  happy  that  the  question 
was  so  framed  that  she  could,  with  a  good  conscience,  answer 
it  in  the  negative, 

"  But  I  suppose,"  continued  the  Queen,  "if  you  were  pos- 
sessed of  such  a  secret  you  would  hold  it  matter  of  conscience 
to  keep  it  to  yourself  ?  " 

"  I  would  pray  to  be  directed  and  guided  what  was  the 
line  of  duty,  madam,"  answered  Jeanie. 

"Yes,  and  take  that  which  suited  your  own  inclinations," 
replied  her  Majesty. 

"  If  it  like  you,  madam,"  said  Jeanie,  "I  would  hae  gaen 
to  the  end  of  the  earth  to  save  the  life  of  John  Porteous,  or 
any  other  unhappy  man  in  his  condition  ;  but  I  might  law- 
fully doubt  how  far  I  am  called  upon  to  be  the  avenger  of  his 
blood,  though  it  may  become  the  civil  magistrate  to  do  so. 
He  is  dead  and  gane  to  his  place,  and  they  that  have  slain 
him  must  answer  for  their  ain  act.  But  my  sister — my  puir 
sister  Effie,  still  lives,  though  her  days  and  hours  are  num- 
bered !  She  still  lives,  and  a  word  of  the  King's  mouth 
might  restore  her  to  a  broken-hearted  auld  man,  that  never, 
in  his  daily  and  nightly  exercise,  forgot  to  pray  that  his  Maj- 
esty might  be  blessed  with  a  long  and  a  prosperous  reign,  and 
that  his  throne,  and  the  throne  of  his  posterity,  might  be  es- 
tablished in  rigliteousness.  0,  madam,  if  ever  ye  kenn'd 
what  it  w^as  to  sorrow  for  and  wdth  a  sinning  and  a  suffering 
creature,  whose  mind  is  sae  tossed  that  she  can  be  neither 
ca'd  fit  to  live  or  die,  have  some  compassion  on  our  misery  ! 
Save  an  honest  house  from  dishonor,  and  an  unhappy  girl, 
not  eighteen  years  of  age,  from  an  early  and  dreadful  death  ! 
Alas  !  it  is  not  when  we  sleep  soft  and  wake  merrily  ourselves, 
that  we  think  on  other  people's  sufferings.  Our  hearts  are 
waxed  light  within  us  then,  and  we  are  for  righting  our  ain 
wrangs  and  fighting  our  ain  battles.  But  when  the  hour  of 
trouble  comes  to  the  mind  or  to  the  body — and  seldom  may 
it  visit  your  Leddyship — and  when  the  hour  of  death  comes, 
that  comes  to  high  and  low — lang  and  late  may  it  be  yours — 
0,  my  Leddy,  then  it  isna  what  we  hae  dune  for  oursells,  but 
what  we  hae  dune  for  others,  that  we  think  on  maist  pleas- 
antly. And  the  thoughts  that  ye  hae  intervened  to  spare  the 
puir  thing's  life  will  be  sweeter  in  that  hour,  come  when  it 
may,  than  if  a  word  of  your  mouth  could  hang  the  haill  Por- 
teous mob  at  the  tail  of  ae  tow." 

Tear  followed  tear  down  Jeanie's  cheeks,  as,  her  features 


376  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

glowing  and  quivering  with  emotion,  she  pleaded  her  sister's 
cause  with  a  pathos  which  was  at  once  simple  and  solemn. 

"  This  is  eloquence,"  said  her  Majesty  to  the  Duke  of 
Argyle.  "  Young  woman,"  she  continued,  addressing  herself 
to  Jeanie,  *'/ cannot  grant  a  pardon  to  your  sister,  but  you 
shall  not  want  my  warm  intercession  with  his  Majesty.  Take 
this  housewife  case,"  she  continued,  putting  a  small  embroi- 
dered needle-case  into  Jeanie's  hands  ;  '^'  do  not  open  it  now, 
but  at  your  leisure  you  will  find  something  in  it  which  will  re- 
mind you  that  you  have  had  an  interview  with  Queen  Caro- 
line."" 

Jeanie,  having  her  suspicions  thus  confirmed,  dropped  on 
her  knees,  and  would  have  expanded  herself  in  gratitude  ;  but 
the  Duke,  who  was  upon  thorns  lest  she  should  say  more  or 
less  than  just  enough,  toucbed  his  chin  once  more. 

"  Our  business  is,  I  think,  ended  for  the  present,  my 
Lord  Duke,"  said  the  Queen,  "  and,  I  trust,  to  your  satisfac- 
tion. Hereafter,  I  hope  to  see  your  Grace  more  frequently, 
both  at  Richmond  and  St.  James's.  Come,  Lady  Suffolk, 
we  must  wish  his  Grace  good  morning." 

They  exchanged  their  parting  reverences,  and  the  Duke, 
so  soon  as  the  ladies  had  turned  their  backs,  assisted  Jeanie 
to  rise  from  the  ground,  and  conducted  her  back  througli  the 
avenue,  which  she  trod  with  the  feeling  of  one  who  walks  in 
h«r  sleep. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII 

So  soon  as  I  can  win  the  offended  King, 
I  will  be  known  your  advocate. 

Cymbeline. 

'L^HE  Dnke  of  Argyle  led  the  way  in  silence  to  the  small  postern 
by  which  they  had  been  admitted  into  Richmond  Park,  so  long 
the  favorite  residence  of  Queen  Caroline.  It  was  opened  by 
the  same  half-seen  janitor,  and  they  found  themselves  beyond 
the  precincts  of  the  royal  demesn  e.  Still  not  a  word  was  spoken 
on  either  side.  The  Duke  probably  wished  to  allow  his  rustic 
protegee  time  to  recruit  her  faculties,  dazzled  and  sunk  with 
colloquy  sublime  :  and  betwixt  what  she  had  guessed,  had 
heard,  and  had  seen,  Jeanie  Deans's  mind  was  too  much  agi- 
tated to  permit  her  to  ask  any  questions. 

They  found  the  carriage  of  the  Duke  in  the  place  where 
they  had  left  it ;  and  when  they  resumed  their  places,  soon 
began  to  advance  rapidly  on  their  ]-eturn  to  town. 

"I  think,  Jeanie,"  said  the  Duke,  breaking  silence,  ''you 
have  every  reason  to  congratulate  yourself  on  the  issue  of  your 
interview  with  her  Majesty.^' 

''And  that  leddy  was  the  Queen  hersell  ?"  said  Jeanie  ; 
"I  misdoubted  it  when  I  saw  that  your  honor  didna  put  on 
your  hat.  And  yet  I  can  hardly  believe  it,  even  when  I  heard 
her  speak  it  hersell." 

"It  was  certainly  Queen  Caroline,"  replied  the  Duke. 
"  Have  you  no  curiosity  to  see  what  is  in  the  little  pocket- 
book  ?" 

"  Do  yon  think  the  pardon  will  be  in  it,  sir  ?  "  said  Jeanie, 
with  the  eager  animation  of  hope. 

"  Why,  no,"  replied  the  Duke  ;  "  that  is  nnlikely.  They 
seldom  carry  these  things  about  them,  unless  they  were  likely 
to  be  wanted  ;  and,  besides,  her  Majesty  told  you  it  was  the 
King,  not  she,  who  was  to  grant  it." 

"  That  is  true  too,"  said  Jeanie  ;  "but  I  am  so  confused 
in  my  mind.  But  does  your  honor  think  there  is  a  certainty 
of  Effie's  pardon,  then  ?  "  continued  she,  still  holding  in  her 
hand  the  unopened  pocket-book. 

sr? 


378  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

"  Why,  kings  are  kittle  cattle  to  shoe  behind,  as  we  say 
in  the  North/'  replied  the  Duke  ;  "but  his  wife  knows  his 
trim,  and  I  have  not  the  least  doubt  that  the  matter  is  quite 
certain." 

'•'  0,  God  be  praised  !  God  be  praised  !"  ejaculated  Jeanie  ; 
*'  and  may  the  gude  leddy  never  want  the  heart's  ease  she  has 
gien  me  at  this  moment.  And  God  bless  yon  too,  my  Lord  I 
without  your  help  I  wad  ne'er  hae  won  near  her." 

The  Duke  let  her  dwell  upon  this  subject  for  a  considerable 
time,  curious,  perhaps,  to  see  how  long  the  feelings  of  grati- 
tude would  continue  to  supersede  those  of  curiosity.  But  so 
feeble  was  the  latter  feeling  in  Jeanie's  mind,  that  his  Grace,, 
with  whom,  perhaps,  it  was  for  the  time  a  little  stronger,  was 
obliged  once  more  to  bring  forward  the  subject  of  the  Queen's 
present.  It  was  opened  accordingly.  In  the  inside  of  the 
case  was  the  usual  assortment  of  silk  and  needles,  with  scis- 
sors, tweezers,  etc. ;  and  in  the  pocket  was  a  bank-bill  for  fifty 
pounds. 

The  Duke  had  no  sooner  informed  Jeanie  of  the  value  of 
this  last  document,  for  she  was  unaccustomed  to  see  notes  for 
such  sums,  than  she  expressed  her  regret  at  the  mistake  which 
had  taken  place.  ''For  the  hussy  itsell,''  she  said,  "was  a 
very  valuable  thing  for  a  keepsake,  with  the  Queen's  name 
written  in  the  inside  with  her  ain  hand,  doubtless — Caroline — 
as  plain  as  could  be,  and  a  crown  drawn  aboon  it."  She  there- 
fore tendered  the  bill  to  the  Duke,  requesting  him  to  find  some 
mode  of  returning  it  to  the  royal  owner. 

"  No,  no,  Jeanie,"  said  the  Duke,  "  there  is  no  mistake  in 
the  case.  Her  Majesty  knows  you  have  been  put  to  great  ex- 
pense, and  she  wishes  to  make  it  up  to  you." 

"I  am  sure  she  is  even  ower  gude,"  said  Jeanie,  "and  it 
glads  me  muckle  that  I  can  pay  back  Dumbiedikes  his  siller, 
without  distressing  my  father,  honest  man." 

"Dumbiedikes  !  What,  a  freeholder  of  Midlothian,  is  he 
not?"  said  his  Grace,  whose  occasional  residence  in  that 
country  made  him  acquainted  with  most  of  the  heritors,  as 
lauded  persons  are  termed  in  Scotland.  "He  has  a  house  not 
far  from  Dalkeith,  wears  a  black  wig  and  a  laced  hat  ?" 

"'  Yes,  sir,"  answered  Jeanie,  who  had  her  reasons  for  being 
brief  in  her  answers  upon  this  topic. 

"Ah  !  my  old  friend  Dumbie  !"  vsaid  the  Duke  ;  "I  have 
thrice  seen  him  fou,  and  only  once  heard  the  sound  of  his 
voice.     Is  he  a  cousin  of  yours,  Jeanie  ?  " 

"No,  sir — my  Lord." 

"  Then  he  must  be  a  well-wisher,  I  suspect  ?** 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  379 

*' Ye — yes,  my  Lord,  sir, "answered  Jeanie,  blushing,  and 
with  hesitation. 

"  Aha-!  then,  if  the  Laird  starts,  I  suppose  my  friend  But» 
ler  must  be  in  some  danger  ?  " 

"  0  no,  sir,"  answered  Jeanie  much  more  readily,  but  at 
the  same  time  l)hishing  much  more  deeply. 

"Well,  Jeanie,"  said  the  Duke,  "you  are  a  girl  may  be 
safely  trusted  with  your  own  matters,  and  I  shall  inquire  no 
further  about  them.  But  as  to  this  same  pardon,  I  must  see 
to  get  it  passed  through  the  proper  forms  ;  and  I  have  a  friend 
in  office  who  will,  for  auld  lang  syne,  do  me  so  much  favor. 
And  then,  Jeanie,  as  I  shall  have  occasion  to  send  an  express 
down  to  Scotland  who  will  travel  with  it  safer  and  more 
swiftly  than  you  can  do,  I  will  take  care  to  have  it  put  into  the 
proper  channel  ;  meanwhile,  you  may  write  to  your  friends, 
by  post,  of  your  good  success." 

"  And  does  your  honor  think," said  Jeanie,  "  that  will  do 
as  weel  as  if  I  were  to  take  my  tap  in  my  lap  and  slip  my  ways 
hame  again  on  my  ain  errand  ?  " 

"Much  better,  certainly,"  said  the  Duke.  "You  know 
the  roads  are  not  very  safe  for  a  single  woman  to  travel." 

Jeanie  internally  acquiesced  in  this  observation. 

"And  I  have  a  plan  for  you  besides.  One  of  the  Duch- 
esses attendants,  and  one  of  mine — your  acquaintance  Archi- 
bald— are  going  down  to  Inverary  in  a  light  calash,  with  four 
horses  I  have  bought,  and  there  is  room  enough  in  the  car- 
riage for  you  to  go  with  them  as  far  as  Glasgow,  where  Archi- 
bald will  find  means  of  sending  you  safely  to  Edinburgh. 
And  in  the  way,  I  beg  you  will  teach  the  woman  as  much  as 
you  can  of  the  mystery  of  cheese-making,  for  she  is  to  have  a 
charge  in  the  dairy,  and  I  dare  swear  you  are  as  tidy  about 
your  milk-pail  as  about  your  dress." 

"  Does  your  honor  like  cheese  ?"  said  Jeanie,  with  a  gleam 
of  conscious  delight  as  she  asked  the  question. 

"  Like  it ! "  said  the  Duke,  whose  good-nature  anticipated 
what  was  to  follow — "  cakes  and  cheese  are  a  dinner  for  an 
emperor,  let  alone  a  Highlaudman." 

"  Because,"  said  Jeanie,  with  modest  confidence,  and 
great  and  evident  self-gratulation,  "we  have  been  thought  so 
particular  in  making  cheese,  that  some  folk  think  it  as  gude 
as  the  real  Dunlop  ;  and  if  your  Honor's  Grace  wad  but  ac- 
cept a  stane  or  twa,  blithe,  and  fain,  and  proud  it  wad  make 
us  !  But  maybe  ye  may  like  the  ewe-milk,  that  is,  the  Buck- 
holmside  *  cheese  better  :  or  maybe  the  gait-milk,  as  ye  come 

*  See  Buckholmside  Cheese.    Note  30. 


380  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

true  tlie  Highlands — and  I  canna  pretend  just  to  the  same 
skeel  o'  them  ;  but  my  cousin  Jean,  that  lives  at  Locker- 
machus  in  Laummermuir,  I  could  speak  to  her,  and " 

"  Quite  unnecessary, ''  said  the  Duke  ;  "  the  Dunlop  is  the 
very  cheese  of  which  I  am  so  fond,  and  I  will  take  it  as  the 
greatest  favor  you  can  do  me  to  send  one  to  Caroline  Park. 
But  remember,  be  on  honor  with  it,  Jeanie,  and  make  it  all 
yourself,  for  I  am  a  real  good  judge/' 

"I  am  not  feared," said  Jeanie,  confidently,  "that  I  may 
please  your  honor  ;  for  I  am  sure  you  look  as  if  you  could 
hardly  find  fault  wi'  onybody  that  did  their  best ;  and  weel 
is  it  my  part,  I  trow,  to  do  mine/' 

This  discourse  introduced  a  topic  upon  which  the  two  trav- 
ellers, though  so  different  in  rank  and  education,  found  each 
a  good  deal  to  say.  Tlie  Duke,  besides  his  other  patriotic 
qualities,  was  a  distinguished  agriculturist,  and  proud  of  hia 
knowledge  in  that  department.  He  entertained  Jeanie  with 
his  observations  on  the  different  breeds  of  cattle  in  Scotland, 
and  tlieir  capacity  for  the  dairy,  and  received  so  much  infor- 
mation from  her  practical  experience  in  return,  that  he  prom- 
ised her  a  couple  of  Devonshire  cows  in  reward  for  the  lesson. 
In  short,  his  mind  was  so  transported  back  to  his  rural  em- 
ployments and  amusements,  that  he  sighed  when  his  carriage 
stopped  opposite  to  the  old  hackney-coach,  which  Archibald 
had  kept  in  attendance  at  the  place  where  they  had  left  it. 
While  the  coachman  again  bridled  his  lean  cattle,  which  had 
been  indulged  with  a  bite  of  musty  hay,  the  Duke  cautioned 
Jeanie  not  to  be  too  communicative  to  her  landlady  concern- 
ing what  had  passed.  "  There  is."  he  said,  "  no  use  of  speak- 
ing of  matters  till  they  are  actually  settled  ;  and  you  may 
refer  the  good  lady  to  Archibald,  if  she  presses  you  hard  with 
questions.  She  is  his  old  acquaintance,  and  he  knows  how  to 
manage  with  her." 

He  then  took  a  cordial  farewell  of  Jeanie,  and  told  her  to 
be  ready  in  the  ensuing  week  to  return  to  Scotland,  saw  her 
safely  established  in  her  hackney-coach,  and  rolled  off  in  hia 
own  carriage,  humming  a  stanza  of  the  ballad  which  he  ia 
said  to  have  composed  : 

"  At  the  sight  of  Dunbarton  once  again, 
I'll  cock  up  my  bonnet  and  march  amain. 
With  my  claymore  hanging  down  to  my  heel. 
To  whang  at  the  bannocks  of  barley  meal." 

Perhaps  one  ought  to  be  actually  a  Scotchman  to  conceive 
how  ardently,  unddr  all  distinctions  of  rank  and  situation. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  381 

they  feel  their  mutual  connection  with  each  other  as  natives 
of  the  same  country.  There  are,  I  believe,  more  associations 
common  to  the  inhabitants  of  a  rude  and  wild  than  of  a  well- 
cultivated  and  fertile  country  :  their  ancestors  have  more  sel- 
dom changed  their  place  of  residence  ;  their  mutual  recollec- 
tion of  remarkable  objects  is  more  accurate  ;  the  high  and  the 
low  are  more  interested  in  each  other's  welfare  ;  the  feelings 
of  kindred  and  relationship  are  more  widely  extended  ;  and, 
in  a  word,  the  bonds  of  patriotic  aifection,  always  honorable 
even  when  a  little  too  exclusively  strained,  have  more  influence 
on  men's  feelings  and  actions. 

The  rumbling  hackney-coach,  which  tumbled  over  the 
(then)  execrable  London  pavement  at  a  rate  very  different 
from  that  whicli  had  conveyed  the  ducal  carriage  to  Eich- 
mond,  at  length  deposited  Jeanie  Deans  and  her  attendant  at 
the  national  sign  of  the  Thistle.  Mrs.  Glass,  who  had  been 
in  long  and  anxious  expectation,  now  rushed,  full  of  e^ger 
curiosity  and  open-mouthed  interrogation,  upon  our  heroine, 
who  was  positively  unable  to  sustain  the  overwhelming  cata- 
ract of  her  questions,  which  burst  forth  with  the  sublimity  of 
a  grand  gardyloo — "  Had  she  seen  the  Duke,  God  bless  him  ! 
— the  Duchess — the  young  ladies  ?  Had  she  seen  the  King, 
God  bless  him  ! — the  Queen — the  Prince  of  Wales — the  Prin- 
cess— or  any  of  the  rest  of  the  royal  family  ?  Had  she  got 
her  sister's  pardon  ?  Was  it  out  and  out,  or  was  it  only  a 
commutation  of  punishment  ?  How  far  had  she  gone — where 
had  she  driven  to — whom  had  she  seen — what  had  been  said — 
what  had  kept  her  so  long  ?  " 

Such  were  the  various  questions  huddled  upon  each  other 
by  a  curiosity  so  eager  that  it  could  hardly  wait  for  its  own 
gratification.  Jeanie  would  have  been  more  than  sufficiently 
embarrassed  by  this  overbearing  tide  of  interrogations,  had 
not  Archibald,  who  had  probably  received  from  his  master  a 
hint  to  that  purpose,  advanced  to  her  rescue.  "  Mrs.  Glass," 
said  Archibald,  'Miis  Grace  desired  me  particularly  to  say, 
that  he  would  take  it  as  a  great  favor  if  you  would  ask  the 
young  woman  no  questions,  as  he  wishes  to  exjalain  to  you 
more  distinctly  than  she  can  do  how  her  affairs  stand,  and 
consult  you  on  some  matters  which  she  cannot  altogether  so 
well  explain.  The  Duke  will  call  at  the  Thistle  to-morrow  or 
next  day  for  that  purpose." 

"  His  Grace  is  very  condescending,"  said  Mrs.  Glass,  her 
zeal  for  inquiry  slaked  for  the  present  by  the  dexterous  ad- 
ministration of  this  sugar-plum  ;  ''  his  Grace  is  sensible  that 
L  am  in  a  manner  accountable  for  the  conduct  of  my  young 


ass  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

kinswoman,  and  no  doubt  his  Grace  is  the  best  judge  how  far 
he  should  intrust  her  or  me  with  the  management  of  her  af- 
fairs." 

''  His  Grace  is  quite  sensible  of  that/'  answered  Archibald, 
with  national  gravity,  "  and  will  certainly  trust  what  he  has 
to  say  to  the  most  discreet  of  the  two  ;  and  therefore,  Mrs. 
Glass,  his  Grace  relies  you  will  speak  nothing  to  Mrs.  Jean 
Deans,  either  of  her  own  affairs  or  her  sister's,  until  he  sees 
you  himself.  He  desired  me  to  assure  you,  in  the  meanwhile, 
that  all  was  going  on  as  well  as  your  kindness  could  wish, 
Mrs.  Glass." 

"  His  Grace  is  very  kind — very  considerate  ;  certainly,  Mr. 

Archibald,  his  Grace's  commands  shall  be  obeyed,  and 

But  you  have  had  a  far  drive,  Mr.  Archibald,  as  I  guess  by 
the  time  of  your  absence,  and  I  guess  [with  an  engaging 
smile]  you  winna  be  the  waur  o'  a  glass  of  the  right  Rosa 
Solis." 

"  I  thank  you,  Mrs.  Glass,"  said  the  great  man's  great 
man,  "  but  I  am  under  the  necessity  of  returning  to  my  Lord 
directly."  And  making  his  adieus  civilly  to  both  cousins,  he 
left  the  shop  of  the  lady  of  the  Thistle. 

"I  am  glad  your  affairs  have  prospered  so  well,  Jeanie,  my 
love,"  said  Mrs,  Glass  ;  "  though,  indeed,  there  was  little 
fear  of  them  so  soon  as  the  Duke  of  Argyle  was  so  conde- 
scending as  to  take  them  into  hand.  I  will  ask  you  no  ques- 
tions about  them,  because  his  Grace,  who  is  most  considerate 
and  prudent  in  such  matters,  intends  to  tell  me  all  that  you 
ken  yourself,  dear,  and  doubtless  a  great  deal  more  ;  so  that 
anything  that  may  lie  heavily  on  your  mind  may  be  imparted 
to  me  in  the  meantime,  as  you  see  it  is  his  Grace's  pleasure 
that  I  should  be  made  acquainted  with  the  whole  matter  forth- 
with, and  whether  you  or  he  tells  it  will  make  no  difference 
in  the  world,  ye  ken.  If  I  ken  what  he  is  going  to  say  before- 
hand, I  will  be  much  more  ready  to  give  my  advice,  and 
whether  you  or  he  tell  me  about  it  cannot  much  signify  after 
all,  my  dear.  So  you  may  just  say  whatever  you  like,  only 
mind  I  ask  you  no  questions  about  it." 

Jeanie  was  a  little  embarrassed.  She  thought  that  the 
communication  she  had  to  make  was  perhaps  the  only  means 
she  might  have  in  her  power  to  gratify  her  friendly  and  hospi- 
table kinswoman.  But  her  prudence  instantly  suggested  that 
her  secret  interview  with  Queen  Caroline,  which  seemed  to 
pass  under  a  certain  sort  of  mystery,  was  not  a  proper  subject 
for  the  gossip  of  a  woman  like  Mrs.  Glass,  of  whose  heart  she 
had  a  much  better  opinion  than  of  her  pruaence.     She  tnere- 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  383 

fore  answered  in  general,  "That  the  Duke  had  had  the  ex- 
traordinary kindness  to  make  very  particular  inquiries  into 
her  sister's  had  aflfair,  and  that  he  thouglit  he  had  found  the 
means  of  putting  it  a'  straight  again,  but  that  he  proposed  to 
tell  all  that  he  thought  about  tlie  matter  to  Mrs.  Glass  her- 
self/' 

This  did  not  quite  satisfy  the  penetrating  mistress  of  the 
Thistle.  Searching  as  her  own  small  rappee,  she,  in  spite  of 
her  promise,  urged  Jeanie  with  still  further  questions.  "  Had 
she  been  a'  that  time  at  Argyle  House  ?  Was  the  Duke  with 
her  the  whole  time  ?  and  had  she  seen  the  Duchess  ?  and  had 
she  seen  the  young  ladies,  and  specially  Lady  Caroline  Camp- 
bell ? "  To  these  questions  Jeanie  gave  the  general  reply, 
"  That  she  knew  so  little  of  the  town  that  she  could  not  tell 
exactly  where  she  had  been ;  that  she  had  not  seen  the  Duch- 
ess to  her  knowledge  ;  that  she  had  seen  two  ladies,  one  of 
whom,  she  understood,  bore  tlie  name  of  Caroline  ;  and  more,'* 
she  said,  "she  could  not  tell  about  the  matter." 

"It  would  be  the  Duke's  eldest  daughter.  Lady  Caroline 
Campbell,  there  is  no  doubt  of  that,"  said  Mrs.  Glass ;  "but, 
doubtless,  I  shall  know  more  particularly  through  his  Grace. 
And  so,  as  the  cloth  is  laid  in  the  little  parlor  above  stairs, 
and  it  is  past  three  o'clock — for  I  have  been  waiting  this  hour 
for  you,  and  I  have  had  a  snack  myself — and,  as  they  used 
to  say  in  Scotland  in  my  time — I  do  not  ken  if  the  word  be 
used  now — there  is  ill  talking  between  a  full  body  and  a  fast- 
ing  " 


CHAPTER  XXXIX 

Heaven  first  sent  letters  to  some  wretch's  aid — ■ 
Some  banish'd  lover,  or  some  captive  maid. 

Pope. 

By  dint  of  unwonted  labor  with  the  pen,  Jeanie  Deans  con- 
trived to  indite,  and  give  to  tlie  cliarge  of  the  postman  on  ths 
ensuing  day,  no  less  than  three  letters,  an  exertion  altogether 
strange  to  her  habits  ;  insomuch  so  that,  if  milk  had  been 
plenty,  she  would  rather  have  made  thrice  as  many  Dunlop 
cheeses.  The  first  of  them  was  very  brief.  It  was  addressed 
to  George  Staunton,  Esq.,  at  the  Eectory,  Willingham,  by 
Grantham  ;  the  address  being  part  of  the  information  which 
she  had  extracted  from  the  communicative  peasant  who  rode 
before  her  to  Stamford.     It  was  in  these  words  : 

••'Sir, 

"  To  prevent  farder  mischieves,  whereof  there  hath  been 
enough,  comes  these  :  Sir,  I  have  my  sister's  pardon  from  the 
Queen's  Majesty,  whereof  I  do  not  doubt  you  will  be  glad, 
liaving  had  to  say  naut  of  matters  whereof  you  know  the  pur- 
port. So,  sir,  I  pray  for  your  better  welfare  in  bodie  and  soul, 
and  that  it  will  please  the  fisycian  to  visit  you  in  His  good  time. 
Alwaies,  sir,  I  pray  you  will  never  come  again  to  see  my  sister, 
whereof  there  has  been  too  much.  And  so,  wishing  you  no 
evil,  but  even  your  best  good,  that  you  may  be  turned  from 
your  iniquity — for  why  suld  ye  die  ? — I  rest  your  humble  serv- 
ant to  command.  Ye  kejst  wha." 

The  next  letter  was  to  her  father.  It  was  too  long  alto- 
gether for  insertion,  so  we  only  give  a  few  extracts.  It  com- 
menced— 

''  Dearest  and  truly  honored  Father, 

"This  comes  with  my  duty  to  inform  yon,  that  it  has 
pleased  God  to  redeem  that  captivitie  of  my  poor  sister,  in 
respect  the  Queen's  blessed  Majesty,  for  whom  we  are  ever 
bound  to  pray,  hath  redeemed  her  soul  from  the  slayer,  grant- 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  385 

ing  the  ransom  of  her,  whilk  is  ane  pardon  or  reprieve.     And 
I  spoke  with  the  Queen  face  to  face,  and  yet  live  ;  for  she  is 
not  muckle  differing  from  other  grand  leddies,  saving  that 
she  has  a  stately  presence,  and  een  like  a  blue  liuntin'-hawk\ 
whilk  gaed  throu'  and  throu'  me  like  a  Hieland  durk.     And 
all  this  good  was,  alway  under  the  Great  Giver,  to  whom  all 
are  but  instruments,  wrought  forth  for  us  by  the  Duk  of  Ar- 
gile,  wha  is  ane  native  true-hearted  Scotsman,  and  not  pride- 
lu',  like  other  folk  we  ken  of  ;  and  likewise  skeely  enow  in 
bestial,  whereof  he  has  promised  to  gie  me  twa  Devonshire 
kye,  of  which  he  is  enamoured,  although  I  do  still  baud  by  the 
real  hawkit  Airshire  breed  ;  and  I  have  promised  him  a  cheese  ; 
and   I  wad  wuss  ye,  if  Gowans,  the  brockit  cow,  has  a  quey, 
that  she  suld  suck  her  fillof  milk,  as  I  am  given  to  understand 
he  has  none  of  that  breed,  and  is  not  scorufu^,  but  will  take  a 
thing  frae  a  pnir  body,  that  it  may  lighten  their  heart  of  the 
loading  of  debt  that  they  awe  him.     Also  his  Honor  the  Dnke 
will  accept  ane  of  our  Dunlop  cheeses,  and  it  sail  be  my  fant 
if  a  better  was  ever  yearned  in  Lowden.      [Here  follow  some 
observations  respecting  the  breed  of  cattle  and  the  produce 
of  the  dairy,  which  it  is  onr  intention  to  forward  to  the  Board 
of  Agriculture.]     Nevertheless,  these  are  but  matters  of  the 
after-harvest,  in  respect  of  the  great  good  wliich  Providence 
hath  gifted  us  with,  and,  in  especial,  poor  Effie's  life.     And 
0,  my  dear  father,  since  it  hath  pleased  God  to  be  merciful 
to  her,  let  her  not  want  your  free  pardon,  whilk   will  make 
her  meet  to  be  ane  vessel  of  grace,  and  also  a  comfort  to  your 
ain  graie  hairs.     Dear  father,  will  ye  let  the  Laird  ken  that 
we  liave  had  friends  strangely  raised  up  to  us,  and  that  the 
talent  whilk  he  lent  me  will  be  thankfully  repaid  ?     I  hae 
some  of  it  to  the  fore  ;  and  the  rest  of  it  is  not  knotted  up  in 
ane  purse  or  napkin,  but  in  ane  wee  bit  paper,  as  is  the  fash- 
ion heir,  whilk  I  am  assured   is  gude  for  the  siller.     And, 
dear  father,  through  Mr.  Butler's  means  I  hae  gnde  friend- 
ship with  the  Duke,  for  there  had  been  kindness  between  their 
forbears  in  the  auld  troublesome  time    by-past.     And  Mrs. 
Glass  has  been  kind  like  my  very  mother.     She  has  a  braw 
house  here,  and  lives  bien  and  warm,  wi'  twa  servant  lasses, 
and  a  man  and  a  callant  in  the  shop.     And  she  is  to  send  you 
doun  a  pound  of  her  hie-dried,  and  some  other  tobaka,  and 
we  maun  think  of  some  propine  for  her,  since  her  kindness 
hath  been  great.     And  the  Duk  is  to  send  the  pardun  doun 
by  an  express  messenger,  in  respect  that  I  canna  travel  sae 
fast ;  and  I  am  to  come  doun  wi'  twa  of  iiis  Honor's  servants 
— that  is,  John  Archibald,  a  decent  elderly  gentleman,  that 


386  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

says  he  has  seen  yon  lang  syne,  when  ye  were  buying  beasts 
in  the  west  frae  the  Laird  of  Aughtermuggitie — but  maybe 
ye  winna  mind  him — ony  way,  he's  a  civil  man — and  Mrs. 
Dolly  Dutton,  that  is  to  be  dairymaid  at  Inverara  ;  and  they 
bring  me  on  as  far  as  Glasgo',  whilk  will  make  it  nae  pinch 
to  win  hame,  whilk  I  desire  of  all  things.  May  the  Giver  of 
all  good  things  keep  ye  in  your  outgauns  and  incomingSj 
whereof  devoutly  prayeth  your  loving  dauter, 

"Jean  Deans.'' 

The  third  letter  was  to  Butler,  and  its  tenor  as  follows  : 

*'  Master  Butler, 

"  Sir — It  will  be  pleasure  to  yon  to  ken  that  all  I  came  for 
is,  thanks  be  to  God,  weel  dune  and  to  the  gude  end,  and  that 
your  forbear's  letter  was  right  welcome  to  the  Duke  of  Argile, 
and  that  he  wrote  your  name  down  with  a  keelyvine  pen  in  a 
leathern  book,  whereby  it  seems  like  he  will  do  for  you  either 
wi'  a  scule  or  a  kirk  ;  he  has  enow  of  baith,  as  I  am  assured. 
And  I  have  seen  the  Queen,  which  gave  me  a  hussy-case  out 
of  her  own  hand.  She  had  not  her  crown  and  skeptre^  but 
they  are  laid  by  for  her,  like  the  bairns'  best  claise,  to  be  worn 
when  she  needs  them.  And  they  are  keepit  in  a  tour,  whilk 
is  not  like  the  tour  of  Liberton,  nor  yet  Craigmillar,  but  mair 
like  to  the  castell  of  Edinburgh,  if  the  buildings  were  taen  and 
set  down  in  the  midst  of  the  Nor'  Loch.  Also  the  Queen  was 
very  bounteous,  giving  me  a  paper  worth  fiftie  pounds,  as  I 
am  assured,  to  pay  my  expenses  here  and  back  agen.  Sae, 
Master  Butler,  as  we  were  aye  neebours'  bairns,  forbye  ony- 
thing  else  that  may  hae  been  spoken  between  us,  I. trust  you 
winna  skrimp  yoursell  for  what  is  needfu'  for  your  health, 
since  it  signifies  not  muckle  whilk  o'  us  has  the  siller,  if  the 
other  wants  it.  And  mind  this  is  no  meant  to  hand  ye  to  ony- 
thing  whilk  ye  wad  rather  forget,  if  ye  suld  get  a  charge  of  a 
kirk  or  a  scule,  as  above  said.  Only  I  hope  it  will  be  a  scule, 
and  not  a  kirk,  because  of  these  difficulties  anent  aiths  and 
patronages,  whilk  might  gang  ill  doun  wi'  my  honest  father. 
Only  if  ye  could  compass  a  harmonious  call  frae  the  parish  of 
Skreegh-me-dead,  as  ye  anes  had  hope  of,  I  trow  it  wad  please 
him  weel ;  since  I  hae  heard  him  say  that  the  root  of  the  mat- 
ter was  mair  deeply  hafted  in  that  wild  muirland  parish  than 
in  the  Canongate  of  Edinburgh,  I  wish  I  had  whaten  books 
ye  wanted,  Mr,  Butler,  for  they  haehaill  houses  of  them  hero, 
and  they  are  obliged  to  set  sum  out  in  the  street,  whilk  aj*e 
said  cheap,  doubtless  to  get  them  out  of  the  weather.     It  is  a 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  387 

mnckle  place,  and  I  hae  seen  sae  mnckle  of  it  that  my  poor 
head  turns  round.  And  ye  ken  lang  syne  I  am  nae  great  pen- 
woman,  and  it  is  near  eleven  o'clock  o'  the  night.  I  am  cum- 
ming  down  in  good  company,  and  safe  ;  and  I  had  troubles  in 
gaun  up,  whilk  makes  me  blyther  of  travelling  wi'  kenn'd 
folk.  My  cousin,  Mrs.  Glass,  has  a  braw  house  here,  but 
a'thing  is  sae  poisoned  wi'  snuff  that  I  am  like  to  be  scomfished 
whiles.  But  what  signifies  these  things,  in  comparison  of  the 
great  deliverance  whilk  has  been  vouchsafed  to  my  father's 
house,  in  whilk  you,  as  our  auld  and  dear  well-wisher,  will,  I 
doubt  not,  rejoice  and  be  exceedingly  glad  ?  And  I  am,  dear 
Mr.  Butler,  your  sincere  well-wisher  in  temporal  and  eternal 
things,  J.  D." 

After  these  labors  of  an  unwonted  kind,  Jeanie  retired  to 
her  bed,  yet  scarce  could  sleep  a  few  minutes  together,  so  often 
was  she  awakened  by  the  heart-stirring  consciousness  of  her 
sister's  safety,  and  so  powerfully  urged  to  deposit  her  burden  of 
Joy  where  she  had  before  laid  her  doubts  and  sorrows,  in  the 
warm  and  sincere  exercises  of  devotion. 

All  the  next,  and  all  the  succeeding  day,  Mrs.  Glass  fid- 
geted about  her  shop  in  the  agony  of  expectation,  like  a  pea — 
to  use  a  vulgar  simile  which  her  profession  renders  appro- 
priate— upon  one  of  her  own  tobacco-pipes.  With  the  third 
morning  came  the  expected  coach,  with  four  servants  clustered 
behind  on  the  foot-board,  in  dark  brown  and  yellow  liveries  ; 
the  Duke  in  person,  with  laced  coat,  gold-headed  cane,  star 
and  garter — all,  as  the  story-book  says,  very  grand. 

He  inquired  for  his  little  countrywoman  of  Mrs.  Glass, 
but  without  requesting  to  see  her,  probably  because  he  was 
unwilling  to  give  an  appearance  of  personal  intercourse  be- 
twixt them  which  scandal  might  have  misinterpreted.  "The 
Queen,"  he  said  to  Mrs.  Glass,  "  had  taken  the  case  of  her 
kinswoman  into  her  gracious  consideration,  and  being  specially 
moved  by  the  affectionate  and  resolute  character  of  the  elder 
sister,  had  condescended  to  use  her  powerful  intercession  with 
his  Majesty,  in  consequence  of  which  a  pardon  had  been  de- 
spatched to  Scotland  to  Effie  Deans,  on  condition  of  her  ban- 
ishing herself  forth  of  Scotland  for  fourteen  years.  The 
King's  Advocate  had  insisted,"  he  said,  "  upon  this  qualifica- 
tion of  the  pardon,  having  pointed  out  to  his  Majesty's  min- 
isters that,  within  the  course  of  only  seven  years,  twenty-one 
instances  of  child-murder  had  occurred  in  Scotland." 

"  Weary  on  him  !  "  said  Mrs.  Glass,  "  what  for  needed  he 
to  iiave  tailed  that  of  his  ain  country,  and  to  the  English  folk 


388     )  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

abune  a'  ?  1  used  aye  to  think  the  Advocate  *  a  douce  decent 
man,  but  it  is  an  ill  bird — begging  your  Grace's  pardon  for 
speaking  of  such  a  coorse  by-word.  And  then  what  is  the 
poor  liissie  to  do  in  a  foreign  land  ?  Why,  wae's  me,  it's  just 
sendiiW  her  to  play  the  same  pranks  ower  again,  out  of  sight 
or  guic|[ance  of  her  friends." 

~  )oh  !  pooh  !"  said  the  Duke,  "  that  need  not  be  anti- 
cipatedA  Why,  she  may  come  up  to  London,  or  she  may  go 
over  to  America,  and  marry  well  for  all  that  is  come  and 
gone.' 

"  In  {roth,  and  so  she  may,  as  your  Grace  is  pleased  to  inti- 
mate," replied  Mrs.  Glass  ;  "  and  now  I  think  upon  it,  there  is 
my  old  correspondent  in  Virginia,  Ephraim  Buckskin,  that  has 
supplied  the  Thistle  this  forty  years  with  tobacco,  and  it  is  not 
a  little  that  serves  our  turn,  and  he  has  been  writing  to  me 
this  ten  years  to  send  him  out  a  wife.  The  carle  is  not  above 
sixty,  and  hale  and  hearty,  and  well-to-pass  in  the  world,  and 
a  line  from  my  hand  would  settle  the  matter,  and  Effie  Deans's 
misfortune — forbye  that  tliere  is  no  special  occasion  to  speak 
about  it — would  be  thought  little  of  there." 

"Is  she  a  pretty  girl  ?"  said  the  Duke  ;  "her  sister  does 
not  get  beyond  a  good  comely  sonsy  lass." 

"Oh,  far  prettier  is  Effie  than  Jeanie,"  said  Mrs.  Glass, 
**  though  it  is  long  since  I  saw  her  mysell;  but  I  hear  of  the 
Deanses  by  all  my  Lowden  friends  when  they  come  ;  your 
Grace  kens  we  Scots  are  clannish  bodies." 

"So  much  the  better  for  us,"  said  the  Duke,  "and  the 
worse  for  those  who  meddle  with  us,  as  your  good  old-fashioned 
Scots  sign  says,  Mrs.  Glass.  And  now  I  hope  you  will  approve 
of  the  measures  I  have  taken  for  restoring  your  kinswoman  to 
her  friends."  These  he  detailed  at  length,  and  Mrs.  Glass 
gave  her  unqualified  approbation,  with  a  smile  and  a  courtesy  at 
every  sentence.  "And  now,  Mrs.  Glass,  you  must  tellJeanie 
I  hope  she  will  not  forget  my  cheese  when  she  gets  dowr  to 
Scotland.  Archibald  has  my  orders  to  arrange  all  her  ex= 
penses." 

"  Begging  your  Grace's  humble  pardon,"  said  Mrs.  Glass, 
"  it's  a  pity  to  trouble  yourself  about  them  ;  the  Deanses  are 
wealthy  people  in  their  way,  and  the  lass  has  money  in  her 
pocket." 

"  That's  all  very  true,"  said  the  Duke  ;  "but  you  know, 
where  MacCallummore  travels  he  pays  all :  it  is  our  High- 
land privilege  to  take  from  all  what  we  want,  and  to  give  to 
all  what  th^y  want." 

*The  celebrated  Duncan  Forbes,  soon  afterwards  Lord  President  of  the  College 
of  Justice,  was  at  this  time  Lord  Advocate. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  389 

''  Yonr  Grace's  better  at  giving  than  taking,"  said  Mrs. 
Glass. 

"  To  show  you  the  contrary,"  said  the  Duke,  "  I  will  fill  my 
box  out  of  this  canister  without  paying  you  a  bawbee  ; "  and 
again  desiring  to  be  remembered  to  Jeanie,  with  his  good 
wishes  for  her  safe  journey,  he  departed,  leaving  Mrs.  Glass 
uplifted  in  heart  and  in  countenance,  the  proudest  and  hap- 
piest of  tobacco  and  snuff  dealers. 

Reflectively,  his  Grace's  good- humor  and  affability  had  a 
favorable  effect  upon  Jeanie's  situation.  Her  kinswoman, 
though  civil  and  kind  to  her,  had  acquired  too  much  of  Lon- 
don breeding  to  be  perfectly  satisfied  with  her  cousin's  rustic 
and  national  dress,  and  was,  besides,  something  scandalized  at 
the  cause  of  her  journey  to  London.  Mrs.  Glass  might,  there- 
fore, have  been  less  sedulous  in  her  attentions  towards  Jeanie, 
but  for  the  interest  which  the  foremost  of  the  Scottish  nobles 
(for  such,  in  all  men's  estimation,  was  the  Duke  of  Argyle) 
seemed  to  take  in  her  fate.  Now,  however,  as  a  kinswoman 
whose  virtues  and  domestic  affections  had  attracted  the  notice 
and  approbation  of  royalty  itself,  Jeanie  stood  to  her  relative 
in  a  light  very  different  and  much  more  favorable,  and  was 
not  only  treated  with  kindness,  but  with  actual  observance  and 
respect. 

It  depended  upon  herself  alone  to  have  made  as  many  visits, 
and  seen  as  many  sights,  as  lay  within  Mrs.  Glass's  power  to 
compass.  But,  excepting  that  she  dined  abroad  with  one  or 
two  '^far-away  kinsfolk,"  and  that  she  paid  the  same  respect, 
on  Mrs.  Glass's  strong  urgency,  to  Mrs.  Deputy  Dabby,  wife 
of  the  Worshipful  Mr.  Deputy  Dabby,  of  Farringdon  With- 
out, she  did  not  avail  herself  of  the  opportunity.  As  Mrs. 
Dabby  was  the  second  lady  of  great  rank  whom  Jeanie  had 
seen  in  London,  she  used  sometimes  afterwards  to  draw  a 
parallel  betwixt  her  and  the  Queen,  in  which  she  observed, 
that  "  Mrs.  Dabby  was  dressed  twice  as  grand,  and  was  twice 
as  big,  and  spoke  twice  as  loud,  and  twice  as  muckle,  as  the 
Queen  did,  but  she  hadna  the  same  goss-hawk  glance  that 
makes  the  skin  creep  and  the  knee  bend  ;  and  though  she  had 
very  kindly  gifted  her  with  a  loaf  of  sugar  and  twa  punds  of 
tea,  yet  she  hadna  a'thegither  the  sweet  look  that  the  Queen 
had  when  she  put  the  needle-book  into  her  hand." 

Jeanie  might  have  enjoyed  the  sights  and  novelties  of  this 
great  city  more,  had  it  not  been  for  the  qualification  added 
to  her  sister's  pardon,  which  greatly  grieved  her  affectionate 
disposition.  On  this  subject,  however,  her  mind  was  some- 
what relieved  by  a  letter  which  she  received  in  return  of  post. 


300  WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 

in  answer  to  that  -which  she  had  written  to  her  father.  With 
his  affectionate  blessing,  it  brought  his  full  approbation  of  the 
step  which  she  had  taken,  as  one  inspired  by  the  immediate 
dictates  of  Heaven,  and  which  she  had  been  thrust  upon  in 
order  that  she  might  become  the  means  of  safety  to  a  perish- 
ing household. 

*'  If  ever  a  deliverance  was  dear  and  precious,  this,''  said 
the  letter,  "is  a  dear  and  precious  deliverance;  and  if  life 
saved  can  be  made  more  sweet  and  savory,  it  is  when  it  cometh 
by  the  hands  of  those  whom  we  hold  in  the  ties  of  affection. 
And  do  not  let  your  heart  be  disquieted  within  you,  that  this 
victim,  who  is  rescued  from  the  horns  of  the  altar,  whereuntil 
she  was  fast  bound  by  the  chains  of  human  law,  is  now  to  be 
driven  beyond  the  bounds  of  our  land.  Scotland  is  a  blessed 
land  to  those  who  love  the  ordinances  of  Christianity,  and  it 
is  a  fair  land  to  look  upon,  and  dear  to  them  who  have  dwelt 
in  it  a'  their  days ;  and  weel  said  that  judicious  Christian,  worthy 
John  Livingstone,  a  sailor  in  Borrowstounness,  as  the  famous 
Patrick  Walker  reporteth  his  words,  that  howbeit  he  thought 
Scotland  was  a  G-ehennah  of  wickedness  when  he  was  at  home, 
yet,  when  he  was  abroad,  he  accounted  it  aue  paradise  ;  for  the 
evils  of  Scotland  he  found  everywhere,  and  the  good  of  Scot- 
land he  found  nowhere.  But  we  are  to  hold  in  remembrance 
that  Scotland,  though  it  be  our  native  land,  and  the  land  of 
onr  fathers,  is  not  like  Groshen  in  Egypt,  on  whilk  the  sun  of 
the  heavens  and  of  the  Grospel  shineth  allenarly,  and  leaveth 
the  rest  of  the  world  in  utter  darkness.  Therefore,  and  also 
because  this  increase  of  profit  at  St.  Leonard's  Crags  may  be  a 
cauld  waff  of  wind  blawing  from  the  frozen  land  of  earthly 
self,  where  never  plant  of  grace  took  root  or  grew,  and  because 
my  concerns  make  me  take  something  ower  muckle  a  grip  of 
the  gear  of  the  warld  in  mine  arms,  I  receive  this  dispensation 
anent  Effie  as  a  call  to  depart  out  of  Haran,  as  righteous  Abra- 
ham of  old,  and  leave  my  father's  kindred  and  my  mother's 
house,  and  the  ashes  and  mould  of  them  who  have  gone  to 
sleep  before  me,  and  which  wait  to  be  mingled  with  these  anld 
crazed  bones  of  mine  own.  And  my  heart  is  lightened  to  do 
this,  when  I  call  to  mind  the  decay  of  active  and  earnest  re- 
ligion in  this  land,  and  survey  the  height  and  the  depth,  the 
length  and  the  breadth,  of  national  defections,  and  how  the 
love  of  many  is  waxing  lukewarm  and  cold  ;  and  I  am  strength- 
ened in  this  resolution  to  change  my  domicile  likewise,  as  I 
hear  that  store-farms  are  to  be  set  at  an  easy  mail  in  Northum- 
berland, where  there  are  many  precious  souls  that  are  of  our 
true  though  suffering  persuasion.     And  sic  part  of  the  kye  or 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  391 

stock  as  I  judge  it  fit  to  keep  may  be  driven  thither  without 
incommodity — say  about  Wooler,  or  that  gate,  keeping  aye  a 
shouther  to  the  hills — and  the  rest  may  besauld  to  gude  profit 
and  advantage,  if  we  had  grace  weel  to  use  and  guide  these 
gifts  of  the  warld.  The  Laird  has  been  a  true  friend  on  our 
unhappy  occasions,  and  I  have  paid  him  back  the  siller  for 
Effie's  misfortune,  whereof  Mr.  Nichil  Novit  returned  him  no 
balance,  as  the  Laird  and  I  did  expect  he  wad  hae  done.  But 
law  licks  up  a',  as  the  common  folk  say.  I  have  had  the  siller 
to  borrow  out  of  sax  purses.  Mr.  Saddletree  advised  to  give 
the  Laird  of  Lounsbeck  a  charge  on  his  band  for  a  thousand 
merks.  But  I  hae  nae  broo'  of  charges,  since  that  awfu* 
morning  that  a  tout  of  a  horn  at  the  Cross  of  Edinburgh  blew 
half  the  faithfu^  ministers  of  Scotland  out  of  their  pulpits. 
However,  I  sail  raise  an  adjudication,  whilk  Mr.  Saddletree 
says  comes  instead  of  the  auld  apprisings,  and  will  not  lose 
weel- won  gear  with  the  like  of  him  if  it  may  be  helped.  As 
for  the  Queen,  and  the  credit  that  she  hath  done  to  a,  poor 
man's  daughter,  and  the  mercy  and  the  grace  ye  found  with 
her,  I  can  only  pray  for  her  weel-being  here  and  hereafter, 
for  the  establishment  of  her  house  now  and  forever  upon  the 
throne  of  these  kingdoms.  I  doubt  not  but  what  you  told  her 
Majesty  that  I  was  the  same  David  Deans  of  whom  there  was 
a  sport  at  the  Revolution,  when  I  noited  thegither  the  heads 
of  twa  false  prophets,  these  ungracious  Graces  the  prelates,  as 
they  stood  on  the  Hie  Street,  after  being  expelled  from  the 
Convention  Parliament.*  The  Duke  of  Argyle  is  a  noble  and 
true-hearted  nobleman,  who  pleads  the  cause  of  the  poor,  and 
those  who  have  none  to  help  them  ;  verily  his  reward  shall 
not  be  lacking  unto  him.  I  have  been  writing  of  many  things, 
but  not  of  that  whilk  lies  nearest  mine  heart.  I  have  seen 
the  misguided  thing ;  she  will  be  at  freedom  the  morn,  on 
enacted  caution  that  she  shall  leave  Scotland  in  four  weeks. 
Her  mind  is  in  an  evil  frame — casting  her  eye  backward  on 
Egypt,  I  doubt,  as  if  the  bitter  waters  of  the  wilderness  were 
harder  to  endure  than  the  brick  furnaces,  by  the  side  of  which 
there  were  savory  flesh-pots.  I  need  not  bid  you  make  haste 
down,  for  you  are,  excepting  always  my  Crept  Master,  my  only 
comfort  in  these  straits.  I  charge  you  to  withdraw  your  feet 
from  the  delusion  of  that  Vanity  Fair  in  whilk  ye  are  a  so- 
journer, and  not  to  go  to  their  worship,  whilk  is  an  ill-mumbled 
mass,  as  it  was  weel  termed  by  James  the  Sext,  though  he  after- 
wards, with  his  unhappy  son,  strove  to  bring  it  ower  back 
and  belly  into  his  native  kingdom,  wherethrough  their  race 

*  8ee  Expulsion  of  the  Bishops  from  the  Scottish  Conveation.    Note  31. 


392  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

have  been  cat  off  as  foam  npon  the  water,  and  ouall  be  as 
wanderers  among  the  nations ;  see  the  prophecies  of  Hosea, 
ninth  and  seventeenth,  and  the  same,  tenth  and  seventh. 
But  us  and  our  house,  let  us  say  with  the  same  prophet :  '  Let 
us  return  to  the  Lord ;  for  he  hath  torn  and  he  will  heal  us, 
he  hath  smitten  and  he  will  bind  us  up.'" 

He  proceeded  to  say,  that  he  approved  of  her  proposed 
mode  of  returning  by  Glasgow,  and  entered  into  sundry  mi- 
nute particulars  not  necessary  to  be  quoted.  A  single  line  in 
the  letter,  but  not  the  least  frequently  read  by  the  party  to 
whom  it  was  addressed,  intimated  that  "  Eeuben  Butler  had 
been  as  a  son  to  him  in  his  sorrows."  As  David  Deans  scarce 
ever  mentioned  Butler  before  without  some  gibe,  more  or  less 
direct,  either  at  his  carnal  gifts  and  learning  or  at  his  grand- 
father's heresy,  Jeanie  drew  a  good  omen  from  no  such  qual- 
ifying clause  being  added  to  this  sentence  respecting  him. 

A  lover's  hope  resembles  the  bean  in  the  nursery  tale  : 
let  it  once  take  root,  and  it  will  grow  so  rapidly  that  in  the 
course  of  a  few  hours  the  giant  Imagination  builds  a  castle 
on  the  top,  and  by  and  by  comes  Disappointment  with  the 
*'  curtal  axe,"  and  hews  down  both  the  plant  and  the  super- 
structure. Jeanie's  fancy,  though  not  the  most  powerful 
of  her  faculties,  was  lively  enough  to  transport  her  to  a 
wild  farm  in  N"orthumberland,  well  stocked  with  milk-cows, 
yeald  beasts,  and  sheep  ;  a  meeting-house  hard  by,  frequented 
by  serious  Presbyterians,  who  had  united  in  an  harmonious  call 
to  Reuben  Butler  to  be  their  spiritual  guide  ;  Effie  restored, 
not  to  gayety,  but  to  cheerfulness  at  least ;  their  father,  with 
his  gray  hairs  smoothed  down,  and  spectacles  on  his  nose ; 
herself,  with  the  maiden  snood  exchanged  for  a  matron's 
curch — all  arranged  in  a  pew  in  the  said  meeting-house,  listen- 
ing to  words  of  devotion,  rendered  sweeter  and  more  power- 
ful by  the  affectionate  ties  which  combined  them  with  the 
preacher.  She  cherished  such  visions  from  day  to  day,  until 
her  residence  in  London  began  to  become  insupportable  and 
tedious  to  her ;  and  it  was  with  no  ordinary  satisfaction  that 
she  received  a  summons  from  Argyle  House,  requiring  her 
in.  two  days  to  be  prepared  to  join  their  northward  party. 


CHAPTEE  XL 

One  was  a  female,  who  had  grievous  ill 
Wrought  in  revenge,  and  she  enjoy'd  it  still ; 
Sullen  she  was,  and  threatening  ;  in  her  eye 
Glared  the  stern  triumph  that  she  dared  to  die. 

Crabbe. 

The  summons  of  preparation  arrived  after  Jeanie  Deans 
had  resided  in  the  metropolis  about  three  weeks. 

On  the  morning  appointed  she  took  a  grateful  farewell  of 
Mrs.  Glass,  as  that  good  woman's  attention  to  her  particu- 
larly required,  placed  herself  and  her  movable  goods,  which 
purchases  and  presents  had  greatly  increased,  in  a  hackney- 
coach,  and  joined  her  travelling  companions  in  the  house- 
keeper's apartment  at  Argyle  House,  While  the  carriage  was 
getting  ready,  she  was  informed  that  the  Duke  wished  to 
speak  with  her ;  and  being  ushered  into  a  splendid  saloon, 
she  was  surprised  to  find  that  he  wished  to  present  her  to  his 
lady  and  daughters. 

"  I  bring  you  my  little  countrywoman,  -Duchess,"  these 
were  the  words  of  the  introduction.  ''With  an  army  of 
young  fellows  as  gallant  and  steady  as  she  is,  and  a  good 
cause,  I  would  not  fear  two  to  one." 

"  Ah,  papa  ! "  said  a  lively  young  lady,  about  twelve  years 
old,  "remember  you  were  full  one  to  two  at  Sheriffmuir, and 
yet  [singing  the  well-known  ballad] — 

"  Some  say  that  we  wan,  and  some  say  that  they  wan, 
And  some  say  that  nane  wan  at  a',  man  ; 
But  of  ae  thing  I'm  sure,  that  on  Sheriffmuir 
A  battle  there  was  that  I  saw,  man.  " 

"  What,  little  Mary  turned  Tory  on  my  hands  ?  This  will 
be  fine  news  for  our  countrvwoman  to  carry  down  to  Scot- 
land ! " 

"  We  may  all  turn  Tories  for  the  thanks  we  have  got  for 
remaining  Whigs,"  said  the  second  young  lady. 

"  Well,  hold  your  peace,  you  discontented  monkeys,  and 
go  dress  your  babies  ;  and  as  for  the  Bob  of  Dumblane, 

"  If  it  wasna  weel  bobbit,  weel  bobbit,  weel  bobbit, 
If  it  wasna  weel  bobbit,  we'll  bobb  it  again." 


394  W AVE  RLE  Y  NOVELS 

" Papa's  wit  is  running  low/'  said  Lady  Mary  ;  ''the  poor 
gentleman  is  repeating  himself  ;  he  sang  that  on  the  field  of 
battle,  when  he  was  told  the  Highlanders  had  cut  his  left 
wing  to  pieces  with  their  claymores." 

A  pull  by  the  hair  was  the  repartee  to  this  sally. 
"  Ah  !  brave  Highlanders  and  bright  claymores,"  said  the 
Duke,  "  well  do  I  wish  them,  'for  a'  the  ill  they've  done  me 
yet,'  as  the  song  goes.  But  come,  madcaps,  say  a  civil  word 
to  your  countrywoman.  I  wish  ye  had  half  her  canny  hamely 
sense  ;  I  think  you  may  be  as  leal  and  true-hearted." 

The  Duchess  advanced,  and,  in  few  words,  in  which  there 
was  as  much  kindness  as  civility,  assured  Jeanie  of  the  respect 
which  she  had  for  a  character  so  affectionate,  and  yet  so  firm, 
and  added,  "  When  you  get  home,  you  will  perhaps  hear 
from  me." 

'' And  from  me."  "And  from  me."  ''And  from  me, 
Jeanie,"  added  the  young  ladies  one  after  the  other,  "  for  you 
are  a  credit  to  the  land  we  love  so  well." 

Jeanie,  overpowered  with  these  unexpected  compliments, 
and  not  aware  that  the  Duke's  investigation  had  made  him 
acquainted  with  her  behavior  on  her  sister's  trial,  could  only 
answer  by  blushing,  and  courtesying  round  and  round,  and 
uttering  at  intervals,  "  Mony  thanks  !  mony  thanks  ! " 

"Jeanie,"  said  the  Duke,  "you  must  have  dock  an'  dor- 
roch,  or  you  will  be  unable  to  travel." 

There  was  a  salver  with  cake  and  wine  on  the  table.  He 
took  up  a  glass,  drank  "to  all  true  hearts  that  lo'ed  Scot- 
land," and  offered  a  glass  to  his  guest. 

Jeanie,  however,  declined  it,  saying,  "  that  she  had  never 
tasted  wine  in  her  life." 

"  How  comes  that,  Jeanie  ?"said  the  Duke  ;  "wine  mak- 
eth  glad  the  heart,  you  know." 

"  Ay,  sir,  but  my  father  is  like  Jonadab  the  son  of  Rechab, 
who  charged  his  children  that  they  should  drink  no  wine." 

"  I  thought  your  father  would  have  had  more  sense,"  said 
the  Duke,  "unless,  indeed,  he  prefers  brandy.  But,  however, 
Jeanie,  if  you  will  not  drink,  you  must  eat,  to  save  the  char- 
acter of  my  house." 

He  thrust  upon  her  a  large  piece  of  cake,  nor  would  he 
permit  her  to  break  off  a  fragment  and  lay  the  rest  on  the 
salver.  "  Put  it  in  your  pouch,  Jeanie,"  said  he  ;  "  you  will 
be  glad  of  it  before  you  see  St.  Giles's  steeple.  I  wish  to 
Heaven  I  were  to  see  it  as  soon  as  you  !  and  so  my  best  service 
to  all  my  friends  at  and  about  Auld  Reekie,  and  a  blithe  jour- 
ney to  you." 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  396 

And,  mixing  the  frankness  of  a  soldier  with  his  natural 
affability,  he  shook  hands  with  his  protegee,  and  committed 
her  to  the  charge  of  Archibald,  satisfied  that  he  had  provided 
sufficiently  for  her  being  attended  to  by  his  domestics,  from 
the  unusual  attention  with  which  he  had  himself  treated  her. 

Accordingly,  in  the  course  of  her  journey,  she  found  both 
her  companions  disposed  to  pay  her  every  possible  civility,  so 
that  her  return,  in  point  of  comfort  and  safety,  formed  a 
strong  contrast  to  her  journey  to  London. 

Her  heart  also  was  disburdened  of  the  weight  of  grief, 
shame,  apprehension,  and  fear  which  had  loaded  her  before 
her  interview  with  the  Queen  at  Kichmond.  But  the  human 
mind  is  so  strangely  capricious  that,  when  freed  from  the 
pressure  of  real  misery,  it  becomes  open  and  sensitive  to  the 
apprehension  of  ideal  calamities.  She  was  now  much  disturbed 
in  mind  that  she  had  heard  nothing  from  Reuben  Butler,  to 
whom  the  operation  of  writing  was  so  much  more  familiar  than 
it  was  to  herself. 

"  It  would  have  cost  him  sae  little  fash/^  she  said  to  her- 
self ;  "  for  I  hae  seen  his  pen  gang  as  fast  ower  the  paper  as 
ever  it  did  ower  the  water  when  it  was  in  the  gray  goose's 
wing.  Wae's  me  !  maybe  he  may  be  badly  ;  but  then  my 
father  wad  likely  hae  said  something  about  it.  Or  maybe  he 
may  hae  taen  the  rue,  and  kensna  how  to  let  me  wot  of  his 
change  of  mind.  He  needna  be  at  muckle  fash  about  it,'* 
she  went  on,  drawing  herself  up,  though  the  tear  of  honest 
pride  and  injured  affection  gathered  in  her  eye,  as  she  enter- 
tained the  suspicion  ;  "  Jeanie  Deans  is  no  the  lass  to  pu'liim 
by  the  sleeve,  or  put  him  in  mind  of  what  he  wishes  to  forget. 
I  sail  wish  him  weel  and  happy  a'  the  same ;  and  if  he  has 
the  luck  to  get  a  kirk  in  our  country,  I  sail  gang  and  hear  him 
just  the  very  same,  to  show  that  I  bear  nae  malice."  And  as 
she  imagined  the  scene,  the  tear  stole  over  her  eye. 

In  these  melancholy  reveries  Jeanie*  had  full  time  to  in- 
dulge herself  ;  for  her  travelling  companions,  servants  in  a 
distinguished  and  fashionable  family,  had,  of  course,  many 
topics  of  conversation  in  which  it  was  absolutely  impossible 
she  could  have  either  pleasure  or  portion.  She  had,  there- 
fore, abundant  leisure  for  reflection,  and  even  for  self-tor- 
menting, during  the  several  days  which,  indulging  the  young 
horses  the  Duke  was  sending  down  to  the  North  with  suffi- 
cient ease  and  short  stages,  they  occupied  in  reaching  the 
neighborhood  of  Carlisle. 

In  approaching  the  vicinity  of  that  ancient  city,  they  dis- 
cerned a  considerable  crowd  upon  an  eminence  at  a  little 


396  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

distance  from  the  high-road,  and  learned  from  some  passengers 
who  were  gathering  towards  that  busy  scene  from  the  south- 
ward, that  the  cause  of  the  concourse  was  the  laudable  public 
desire  "  to  see  a  domned  Scotch  witch  and  thief  get  half  of 
her  due  upo'  Haribee  Broo'  yonder  :  for  she  was  only  to  be 
hanged  ;  she  should  hae  been  boomed  aloive,  an' cheap  on't." 

"  Dear  Mr.  Archibald,"  said  the  dame  of  the  dairy  elect, 
''  I  never  seed  a  woman  hanged  in  a,'  my  life,  and  only  four 
men,  as  made  a  goodly  spectacle." 

Mr.  Archibald,  however,  was  a  Scotchman,  and  promised 
himself  no  exuberant  pleasure  in  seeing  his  countrywoman 
undergo  "  the  terrible  behests  of  law."  Moreover,  he  was  a 
man  of  sense  and  delicacy  in  his  way,  and  the  late  circum- 
stances of  Jeanie's  family,  with  the  cause  of  her  expedition  to 
London,  were  not  unknown  to  him ;  so  that  he  answered 
dryly,  it  was  impossible  to  stop,  as  he  must  be  early  at  Carlisle 
on  some  business  of  the  Duke's,  and  he  accordingly  bid  the 
postilions  get  on. 

The  road  at  that  time  passed  at  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile's 
distance  from  the  eminence  called  Haribee  or  Harabee  Brow, 
which,  though  it  is  very  moderate  in  size  and  height,  is  nev- 
ertheless seen  from  a  great  distance  around,  owing  to  the 
flatness  of  the  country  through  which  the  Eden  flows.  Here 
many  an  outlaw  and  border-rider  of  both  kingdoms  had  wa- 
vered in  the  wind  during  the  wars,  and  scarce  less  hostile 
truces,  between  the  two  countries.  Upon  Harabee,  in  latter 
days,  other  executions  had  taken  place  with  as  little  ceremony 
as  compassion  ;  for  these  frontier  provinces  remained  long  un- 
settled, and,  even  at  the  time  of  which  we  write,  were  ruder 
than  those  in  the  centre  of  England. 

The  postilions  drove  on,  wheeling,  as  the  Penrith  road  led 
them,  round  the  verge  of  the  rising  ground.  Yet  still  the 
eyes  of  Mrs.  Dolly  Putton,  which,  with  the  head  and  sub- 
stantial person  to  which  they  belonged,  were  all  turned  to- 
wards the  scene  of  action,  could  discern  plainly  the  outline 
of  the  gallows-tree,  relieved  against  the  clear  sky,  the  dark 
shade  formed  by  the  persons  of  the  executioner  and  the 
criminal  upon  the  light  rouuds  of  the  tall  aerial  ladder,  until 
one  of  the  objects,  launched  into  the  air,  gave  unequivocal 
signs  of  mortal  agony,  though  appearing  in  the  distance  not 
larger  than  a  spider  dependent  at  the  extremity  of  his  invis- 
ible thread,  while  the  remaining  form  descended  from  its 
elevated  situation,  and  regained  with  all  speed  an  undistin- 
guished place  among  the  crowd.  This  termination  of  the 
tragic  scene  drew  forth,  of  course,  a  squall  from  Mrs.  Dutton, 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  397 

and  Jeanie,  with  instinctive  curiosity,  turned  her  head  in  the 
same  direction. 

Tlie  sight  of  a  female  culprit  in  the  act  of  undergoing  the 
fatal  punisliment  from  which  her  beloved  sister  had  been  so 
recently  rescued  was  too  much,  not  perhaps  for  her  nerves, 
but  for  her  mind  and  feelings.  She  turned  her  head  to  the 
other  side  of  the  carriage,  with  a  sensation  of  sickness,  of 
loathing,  and  of  fainting.  Her  female  companion  over- 
whelmed her  with  questions,  with  proffers  of  assistance,  with 
requests  that  the  carriage  might  be  stopped,  that  a  doctor 
might  be  fetched,  that  drops  might  be  gotten,  that  burnt 
feathers  and  asafo^tida,  fair  water,  and  hartshorn  might  be 
procured,  all  at  once,  and  without  one  instant's  delay.  Arch- 
ibald, more  calm  and  considerate,  only  desired  the  carriage  to 
push  forward  ;  and  it  was  not  till  they  had  got  beyond  sight 
of  the  fatal  spectacle  that,  seeing  the  deadly  paleness  of 
Jeanie's  countenance,  he  stopped  the  carriage,  and  jumping 
out  himself,  went  in  search  of  the  most  obvious  and  most 
easily  procured  of  Mrs.  Button's  pharmacopoeia — a  draught, 
namely,  of  fair  water. 

While  Archibald  was  absent  on  this  good-natured  piece  of 
service,  damning  the  ditches  which  produced  nothing  but 
mud,  and  thinking  upon  the  thousand  bubbling  springlets  of 
his  own  mountains,  the  attendants  on  the  execution  began 
to  pass  the  stationary  vehicle  in  their  way  back  to  Carlisle. 

From  their  half-heard  and  half-understood  words,  Jeanie, 
whose  attention  was  involuntarily  riveted  by  them,  as  that  of 
children  is  by  ghost  stories,  though  they  know  the  pain  with 
which  they  will  afterwards  remember  them — Jeanie,  I  say, 
could  discern  that  tlie  present  victim  of  the  law  had  died 
''game,"  as  it  is  termed  by  those  unfortunates  ;  that  is,  sul- 
len, reckless,  and  impenitent,  neither  fearing  God  nor  regard- 
ing man. 

"  A  sture  woife,  and  a  dour,"  said  one  Cumbrian  peasant, 
as  he  clattered  by  in  his  wooden  brogues,  with  a  noise  like 
the  trampling  of  a  dray-horse. 

"  Slie  has  gone  to  ho  master,  with  ho'snamein  her  mouth," 
said  another.  'SShame  the  country  should  be  harried  wi* 
Scotch  witches  and  Scotch  bitches  this  gate  ;  but  I  say  hang 
and  drown." 

"  Ay,  ay.  Gaffer  Tramp,  take  awa*  yealdon,  take  awa'  low; 
hang  the  witch,  and  there  will  be  less  scathe  amang  us  ;  mine 
owsen  hae  been  reckan  this  towmont." 

"  And  mine  bairns  hae  been  crining  too,  mon,"  replied 
liis  neighbor. 


398  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

"  Sileuce  wi'  your  f  ule  tongues,  ye  churls/'  said  an  old 
woman  who  hobbled  past  them  as  they  stood  talking  near  the 
carriage  ;  *'  this  was  nae  witch,  but  a  bluidy- fingered  thief 
Toud  murderess." 

"Ay  ?  was  it  e'en  sae,  Dame  Hinchup  ?"  said  one  in  a 
civil  tone,  and  stepping  out  of  his  place  to  let  the  old  woman 
pass  along  the  footpath.  ''Nay,  you  know  best,  sure  ;  bi^t  at 
or.^r  rate  we  hae  but  tint  a  Scot  of  her,  and  that's  a  thing 
better  lost  than  found." 

The  old  woman  passed  on  without  making  any  answer. 

''  A.J,  ay,  neighbor,"  said  Gaffer  Tramp,  '' seest  thou  how 
one  witch  will  speak  for  t'other — Scots  or  English,  the  same 
to  i.iem." 

His  companion  shook  his  head,  and  replied  in  the  same 
subdued  tone,  "  Ay,  ay,  when  r.  Sark-foot  wife  gets  on  her 
broomstick,  the  dames  of  Allonby  are  ready  to  mount,  just 
as  sure  as  the  by- word  gangs  o'  the  hills — 

"  If  Skiddaw  hath  a  cap, 
Criffel  wots  full  weel  of  that." 

"  But,"  continued  Gaffer  Tramp,  "  thinkest  thou  the 
daughter  o'  yon  hangit  body  isna  a::  rank  a  Avitcli  as  ho  ?" 

"  I  kenna  cloarly,"  returned  the  fellow,  "  but  the  folk 
are  speaking  o'  swimming  her  i'  the  Eden."  And  they 
passed  on  their  several  roads,  after  wishing  each  other  good 
morning. 

Just  as  the  clowns  left  the  place,  and  as  Mr.  Archibald  re- 
turned with  some  fair  water,  a  crowd  of  boys  and  girls,  and 
some  of  the  lower  rabble  of  more  mature  age,  came  up  from 
the  place  of  execution,  grouping  themselves  with  many  a  yell 
of  delight  around  a  tall  female  fantastically  dressed,  who  was 
dancing,  leaping,  and  bounding  in  the  midst  of  them.  A 
horrible  recollection  pressed  on  Jeanio  as  she  looked  on  this 
unfortunate  creature  ;  and  the  reminiscence  was  mutual,  for, 
by  a  sudden  exertion  of  groat  strength  and  agility,  Madge 
Wildfire  broke  out  of  the  noisy  circle  of  tormentors  who  sur- 
rounded her,  and  clinging  fast  to  the  door  of  the  calash,  ut- 
tered, in  a  sound  betwixt  laughter  and  screaming,  ''Eh,  d'ye 
ken,  Jeanie  Deans,  they  hae  hangit  our  mother?"  Then 
suddenly  changing  her  tone  to  that  of  the  most  piteous  en- 
treaty, she  added,  "  0  gar  them  let  me  gang  to  cut  her  down  ! 
— let  me  but  cut  her  down  !  She  is  my  mother,  if  she  was 
waur  than  the  deil,  and  she'll  be  nae  mair  kenspeckle  than 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  399 

half-hangit  Maggie  Dickson,*  that  cried  sant  mony  a  day  after 
she  had  been  hangit ;  he:  voice  was  roupit  and  hoarse,  and 
her  neck  was  a  wee  agee,  or  ye  wad  hae  kenn'd  nae  odds  on 
her  frae  ony  other  saut-wife." 

Mr,  Archibald,  embarrassed  by  the  madwoman's  clinging 
to  the  carriage,  and  detaining  around  thom  her  noisy  and 
mischievous  attendants,  was  all  thir:  Vi^hilc  looking  ju ,  for  a 
constable  or  beadle,  to  whom  he  might  commit  the  unfortu- 
nate creature.  But  seeing  no  such  person  of  auf  lority,  he 
endeavcrofl  to  loosen  her  hold  from  the  carriage,  that  they 
might  escape  from  her  by  driving  on.  This,  however,  could 
hardly  be  achieved  without  some  degree  of  violence ;  Madge 
held  fast,  and  renewed  her  frantic  entreaties  to  be  permitted 
to  cut  down  her  mother.  "It  was  but  a  tenpenny  tow  lost," 
she  said,  "'and  what  was  that  to  a  woman's  life  ?"  There 
came  up,  however,  a  parcel  of  savage-looking  fellows,  butch- 
ers and  graziers  chiefly,  among  whose  cattle  tlioro  had  been 
of  late  a  very  general  and  fatal  distemper,  which  their  wisdom 
imputed  to  witchcraft.  They  laid  violent  hands  on  Madge, 
and  tore  her  from  the  carriage,  exclaiming,  "  What,  doest 
stop  folk  o'  king's  highway  ?  Hast  no  done  mischief  enow 
already,  wi'  thy  murders  and  thy  witcherings  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Jeanie  Deans — Jeanie  Deans  !"  exclaimed  the  poor 
mauiac,  "save  my  mother,  and  I  will  take  ye  to  the  Inter- 
preter's house  again  ;  and  I  will  teach  ye  a'  my  bonny  sangs  ; 
and  I  will  tell  ye  what  came  o'  the "  The  rest  of  her  en- 
treaties were  drowned  in  the  shouts  of  the  rabble. 

"Save  her,  for  God's  sake  ! — save  her  from  those  people  !" 
exclaimed  Jeanie  to  Archibald. 

"  She  is  mad,  but  quite  innocent — she  is  mad,  gentle- 
men," said  Archibald  ;  "  do  not  use  her  ill,  take  her  before 
the  mayor." 

"  Ay,  ay,  we'se  hae  care  enow  on  her,"  answered  one  of 
the  fellows  ;  "  gang  thou  thy  gate,  man,  and  mind  thine  own 
matterc." 

"  He's  a  Scot  by  his  tongue,"  said  another  ;  "  and  an  he 
will  come  out  o'  his  whirligig  there,  I'se  gie  him  his  tartan 
plaid  fu'  o'  broken  banes." 

It  was  clear  nothing  could  be  done  to  rescue  Madge  ;  and 
Archibald,  who  was  a  man  of  humanity,  could  only  bid  the 
postilions  hurry  on  to  Carlisle,  that  he  might  obtain  some 
assistance  to  the  unfortunate  woman.  As  they  drove  off,  they 
heard  the  hoarse  roar  with  which  the  mob  preface  acts  of  riot 
or  cruelty,  yet  even  above  that  deep  and  dire  note  they  could 

*  See  Note  ZSi. 


400  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

discern  the  screams  of  the  unfortunate  victim.  They  were 
soon  out  of  hearing  of  the  cries,  but  had  no  sooner  entered 
the  streets  of  Carlisle  than  Archibald,  at  Jeanie's  earnest 
and  urgent  entreaty,  went  to  a  magistrate,  to  state  the  cru- 
elty which  was  likely  to  be  exercised  on  this  unhappy  creat- 
ure. 

In  about  an  hour  and  a  half  he  returned,  and  reported  to 
Jeanie  that  the  magistrate  had  very  readily  gone  in  person, 
v/ith  some  assistants,  to  the  rescue  of  the  unfortunate  woman, 
and  that  he  had  himself  accompanied  him  ;  that  when  they 
camo  to  the  muddy  pool  in  which  the  mob  were  ducking  her, 
according  to  their  favorite  mode  of  punishment,  the  magis- 
trate succeeded  in  rescuing  her  from  their  hands,  but  in  a 
state  of  insensibility,  owing  to  the  cruel  treatment  which  she 
had  received.  He  added,  that  he  had  seen  her  carried  to  the 
workhouse,  and  understood  that  she  had  been  brought  to  her- 
self, and  was  expected  to  do  well. 

This  last  averment  was  a  slight  alteration  in  point  of  fact, 
for  Midge  Wildfire  was  not  expected  to  survive  tlie  treatment 
she  h  id  received  ;  but  Jeanie  seemed  so  much  agitated  that 
Mr.  Archibald  did  not  think  it  prudent  to  tell  her  the  worst 
at  once.  Indeed,  she  appeared  so  fluttered  and  disordered  by 
this  alarming  accident  that,  although  it  had  been  their  inten- 
tion to  proceed  to  Longtown  that  evening,  her  companions 
judged  it  most  advisable  to  pass  the  night  at  Carlisle. 

This  was  particularly  agreeable  to  Jeanie,  who  resolved,  if 
possible,  to  procare  an  interview  with  Madge  Wildfire.  Con- 
necting some  of  her  wild  flights  with  the  narrative  of  George 
Staunton,  she  was  unwilling  to  omit  the  opportunity  of  ex- 
tracting from  her,  if  possible,  some  information  concerning 
the  fate  of  that  unfortunate  infant  which  had  cost  her  sister 
so  dear.  Her  acquaintance  with  the  disordered  state  of  poor 
Madge's  mind  did  not  permit  her  to  cherish  much  hope  that 
she  could  acquire  from  her  any  useful  intelligence ;  but  then, 
since  Madge's  mother  had  suffered  her  deserts,  and  was  silent 
forever,  it  was  her  only  chance  of  obtaining  any  kind  of  in- 
formation, and  she  was  loath  to  lose  the  opportunity. 

She  colored  her  wish  to  Mr.  Archibald  by  saying  that  she 
had  seen  Madge  formerly,  and  wished  to  know,  as  a  matter  of 
humanity,  how  she  was  attended  to  under  her  present  mis- 
fortunes. That  complaisant  person  immediately  went  to  the 
workhouse,  or  hospital,  in  which  he  had  seen  the  sufferer 
lodged,  and  brought  back  for  reply,  that  the  medical  attend- 
ants positively  forbade  her  seeing  any  one.  When  the  appli- 
cation for  admittance  was  repeated  next  day,  Mr.  Archibald 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  401 

was  informed  that  she  had  been  very  quiet  and  composed,  iii- 
somnch  that  the  clergyman  wlio  acted  as  chaplain  to  the  es- 
tablishment, thought  it  expedient  to  read  j)rayers  beside  her 
bed,  but  that  her  wandering  fit  of  mind  had  returned  soon 
after  his  departure  ;  hoM^ever,  her  countiywoman  might  see 
her  if  she  chose  it.  She  was  not  expected  to  live  above  an  hour 
or  two. 

Jeanie  had  no  sooner  received  this  information  than  she 
hastened  to  the  hospital,  her  companions  attending  her.  They 
found  the  dying  person  in  a  large  ward,  where  there  were  ten 
beds,  of  which  the  patient's  was  the  only  one  occupied. 

Madge  was  singing  when  they  entered — singing  her  own 
wild  snatches  of  songs  and  obsolete  airs,  with  a  voice  no  longer 
overstrained  by  false  spirits,  but  softened,  saddened,  and  sub- 
dued by  bodily  exhaustion.  She  was  still  insane,  but  was  no 
longer  able  to  express  her  wandering  ideas  in  the  wild  notes 
of  her  former  state  of  exalted  imagination.  There  was  death 
in  the  plaintive  tones  of  her  voice,  which  yet,  in  this  moder- 
ated and  melancholy  mood,  had  something  of  the  lulling  sound 
with  which  a  mother  sings  her  infant  asleep.  As  Jeanie  en- 
tered, she  heard  first  the  air,  and  then  a  part  of  tlie  chorus 
and  words,  of  what  had  been,  perhaps,  the  song  of  a  jolly 
harvest-home  : 

"  Our  work  is  over — over  now, 
The  goodman  wipes  his  weary  broW, 
The  last  long  wain  wends  slow  away, 
And  we  are  free  to  sport  and  play. 

"  The  night  comes  on  when  sets  the  sun. 
And  labor  ends  when  day  is  done. 
When  Autumn's  gone  and  Winter's  come. 
We  hold  our  .jovial  harvest-home." 

Jeanie  advanced  to  the  bedside  when  the  strain  was  finished, 
and  addressed  Madge  by  her  name.  But  it  produced  no  symp- 
toms of  recollection.  On  the  contrary,  the  patient,  like  one 
provoked  by  interruption,  changed  her  posture,  and  called 
out,  with  an  impatient  tone,  "  Nurse — nurse,  turn  my  face  to 
the  wa',  that  I  may  never  answer  to  that  name  ony  mair,  and 
never  see  mair  of  a  wicked  world." 

The  attendant  on  the  hospital  arranged  her  in  her  bed  as 
she  desired,  with  her  face  to  the  wall  and  her  back  to  the  light. 
So  soon  as  she  was  quiet  in  this  new  position,  she  began  again 
to  sing  in  the  same  low  and  modulated  strains,  as  if  she  was 
recovering  the  state  of  abstraction  which  the  interruption  of 
her  visitants  had  disturbed.     The  strain,  however,  was  differ- 


403  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

ent,  and  rather  resembled  the  music  of  the  Methodist  hymns, 
though  the  measure  of  the  song  was  similar  to  that  of  the 
former ; 

"  When  the  fight  of  grace  is  fought, 
When  the  marriage  vest  is  wrought, 
When  Faith  hath  chased  cold  Doubt  away, 
And  Hope  but  sickens  at  delay. 
When  Charity,  imprisoned  here, 
Longs  for  a  more  expanded  sphere, 
Doff  thy  robes  of  sin  and  clay, 
Christian,  rise,  and  come  away." 

The  strain  was  solemn  and  affecting,  sustained  as  it  was  by 
the  pathetic  warble  of  a  voice  which  had  naturally  been  a  fine 
one,  and  which  weakness,  if  it  diminished  its  power,  had  im- 
proved in  softness.  Archibald,  though  a  follower  of  the  court, 
and  Q, pococurante  by  profession,  was  confused,  if  not  affected  ; 
the  dairymaid  blubbered  ;  and  Jeanie  felt  the  tears  rise  spon- 
taneously to  her  eyes.  Even  the  nurse,  accustomed  to  all 
modes  in  which  the  spirit  can  pass,  seemed  considerably  moved. 

The  patient  was  evidently  growing  weaker,  as  was  intimated 
by  an  apparent  difficulty  of  breathing  which  seized  her  from 
time  to  time,  and  by  the  utterance  of  low,  listless  moans,  inti- 
mating that  nature  was  succumbing  in  the  last  conflict.  But 
the  spirit  of  melody,  which  must  originally  have  so  strongly 
possessed  this  unfortunate  young  woman,  seemed,  at  every 
interval  of  ease,  to  triumph  over  her  pain  and  weakness.  And  it 
was  remarkable  that  there  could  always  be  traced  in  her  songs 
something  appropriate,  though  perhaps  only  obliquely  or  col- 
laterally so,  to  her  present  situation.  Her  next  seemed  to  be 
the  fragment  of  some  old  ballad  : 

"  Cauld  is  my  bed,  Lord  Archibald, 
And  sad  my  sleep  of  sorrow ; 
But  thine  sail  be  as  sad  and  cauld, 
My  fause  true-love,  to-morrow. 

"  And  weep  ye  not,  my  maidens  free, 
Though  death  your  mistress  borrow ; 
For  he  for  whom  I  die  to-day 
Sail  die  for  me  to-morrow." 

Again  she  changed  the  tune  to  one  wilder,  less  monoto- 
nous, and  less  regular.  But  of  the  words  only  a  fragment  or 
two  could  be  collected  by  those  who  listened  to  this  singular 
scene : 

* '  Proud  Maisie  is  in  the  wood. 
Walking  so  early. 
Sweet  Robin  sits  eta  the  bush, 
Singing  so  rarely. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  403 

"  '  Tell  me,  thou  bonny  bird, 
When  shall  I  marry  me? 
*  When  six  braw  gentlemen 
Kirkward  shall  carry  ye.* 


*' '  Who  mak(>s  the  bridal  bed, 

Birdie,  say  truly?  ' 

*  The  gray-headed  sexton, 

That  delves  the  grave  duly. 


"  The  glowworm  o'er  grave  and  stone 
Shall  light  thee  steady  ; 
The  owl  from  the  steeple  sing, 
'  Welcome,  proud  lady.' " 

Her  voice  died  away  with  the  last  notes,  and  she  fell  into 
a  slumber,  from  which  the  experienced  attendant  assured 
them  that  she  never  would  awake  at  all,  or  only  in  the  death- 
agony. 

The  nurse's  prophecy  proved  true.  The  poor  maniac 
parted  with  existence  without  again  uttering  a  sound  of  any 
kind.  But  our  travellers  did  not  witness  this  catastrophe. 
They  left  the  hospital  as  soon  as  Jeanie  had  satisfied  herself 
that  no  elucidation  of  her  sister's  misfortunes  was  to  be  hoped 
from  the  dying  person.* 

*  See  Madge  Wildfire.    NoteM. 


CHAPTER  XLI 

Wilt  thou  go  on  with  me? 
The  moon  is  bright,  the  sea  is  calm, 
And  I  know  well  the  ocean  paths  .  .  , 

Thou  wilt  go  on  with  me  1 

Tfialaha. 

The  fatigue  and  agitation  of  these  various  scenes  had  agitated 
Jeaiiie  so  mucii,  notwitlistanding  her  robust  strength  of  con- 
stitution, that  Arcliibald  judged  it  necessary  that  slie  sliould 
have  a  day's  repose  at  the  village  of  Longtown.  It  was  in 
vain  that  Jeanie  herself  protested  against  any  delay.  The  Duke 
of  Argyle's  man  of  confidence  was  of  course  consequential  ; 
and  as  he  had  been  bred  to  the  medical  profession  in  his 
youth — at  least  he  used  this  expression  to  describe  his  having, 
thirty  years  before,  pounded  for  six  months  in  the  mortar  of 
old  Mungo  Mangleman,  the  surgeon  at  Greenock — he  was 
obstinate  whenever  a  matter  of  health  was  in  question. 

In  this  case  he  discovered  febrile  symptoms,  and  having 
once  made  a  happy  application  of  that  learned  phrase  to 
Jeanie's  case,  all  further  resistance  became  in  vain  ;  and  she 
was  glad  to  acquiesce,  and  even  to  go  to  bed  and  drink  water- 
gruel,  in  order  that  she  might  possess  her  soul  in  quiet,  and 
without  interruption. 

Mr.  Archibald  was  equally  attentive  in  another  particular. 
He  observed  that  the  execution  of  the  old  woman,  and  the 
miserable  fate  of  her  daughter,  seemed  to  have  had  a  more 
powerful  effect  upon  Jeanie's  mind  than  the  usual  feelings  of 
humanity  might  naturally  have  been  expected  to  occasion. 
Yet  she  was  obviously  a  strong-minded,  sensible  young  wom- 
an, and  in  no  respect  subject  to  nervous  affections ,  and 
therefore  Archibald,  being  ignorant  of  any  special  connection 
between  his  master's  protegee  and  these  unfortunate  persons, 
excepting  that  she  had  seen  Madge  formerly  in  Scotland,  nat- 
urally imputed  the  strong  impression  these  events  had  made 
upon  her  to  her  associating  them  with  the  unhappy  circum- 
stances in  which  her  sister  had  so  lately  stood.  He  became 
anxious,  therefore,  to  prevent  anything  occurring  which  might 
recall  these  associations  to  Jeanie's  mind. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  405 

Archibald  had  speedily  an  opportunity  of  exercising  this 
precaution.  A  peddler  brought  to  LongtoAvn  that  evening, 
among  other  wares,  a  large  broadside  sheet,  giving  an  ac- 
count of  the  "  Last  Speech  and  Execution  of  Margaret  Mur- 
dockson,  and  of  the  Barbarous  Murder  of  her  Daughter,  Mag- 
dalene or  Madge  Murdockson,  called  Madge  Wildfire  ;  and  of 
her  Pious  Conversation  wiili  his  lieverence  Archdeacon  Flem- 
ing ; "  which  authentic  publication  had  apparently  taken 
place  on  the  day  they  left  Carlisle,  and  being  an  article  of  a 
nature  peculiarly  acceptable  to  such  country-folk  as  Were 
within  hearing  of  the  transaction,  the  itinerant  bibliopolist 
had  forthwith  added  them  to  his  stock  in  trade.  He  found 
a  merchant  sooner  than  lie  expected  ;  for  Archibald,  much 
applauding  his  own  prudence,  purcliased  the  whole  lot  for 
two  shillings  and  nine])ence  ;  and  the  peddler,  delighted  with 
the  profit  of  such  a  wholesale  transaction,  instantly  returned 
to  Carlisle  to  supply  himself  witii  more. 

The  considerate  Mr.  Archibald  was  about  to  commit  his 
whole  purchase  to  the  flames,  but  it  was  rescued  by  the  yet 
more  considerate  dairy-damsel,  who  said,  very  prudently,  it 
was  a  pity  to  waste  so  much  ])aper,  which  might  crejoe  iiair, 
pin  up  bonnets,  and  serve  many  other  useful  purposes  ;  and 
who  promised  to  put  the  parcel  into  her  own  trunk,  and  keep 
it  carefully  out  of  the  sight  of  Mrs.  Jeanie  Deans  :  '•  Though, 
by  the  by,  she  had  no  great  notion  of  folk  being  so  very  nice. 
Mrs.  Deans  might  have  had  enough  to  think  about  the  gal- 
lows all  this  time  to  endure  a  sight  of  it,  without  all  this  to 
do  about  it." 

Archibald  reminded  tlie  dame  of  the  dairy  of  the  Duke's 
very  particular  charge  that  they  should  be  attentive  and  civil 
to  Jeanie  ;  as  also  that  they  were  to  part  company  soon,  and 
consequently  would  not  be  doomed  to  observing  any  one's 
health  or  temper  during  the  rest  of  the  journey ;  with  which 
answer  Mrs.  Dolly  Dutton  Avas  obliged  to  hold  herself  satisfied. 

On  the  morning  they  resumed  their  journey,  and  prose- 
cuted it  successfully,  travelling  through  Dumfriesshire  and 
part  of  Lanarkshire,  until  tliey  arrived  at  the  small  town  of 
Rutherglen,  within  about  four  miles  of  Glasgow.  Here  an 
express  brought  letters  to  Archibald  from  the  principal  agent 
of  the  Duke  of  Argyle  in  Edinburgh. 

He  said  nothing  of  their  contents  that  evening  ;  but  wlien 
they  were  seated  in  the  carriage  the  next  day,  the  faithful 
squire  informed  Jeanie  that  he  had  received  directions  from 
the  Duke's  factor,  to  whom  his  Grace  had  recommended  him 
to  carry  her,  if  she  had  no  objection,  for  a  stage  or  two  be- 


406  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

yond  Glasgow.  Some  temporary  causes  of  discontent  had  oc- 
casioned tumults  in  tliat  city  and  the  neigliborhood,  which 
would  render  it  unadvisable  for  Mrs.  Jeanie  Deans  to  travel 
alone  and  unprotected  betwixt  that  city  and  Edinburgh  ; 
whereas,  by  going  forward  a  little  further,  they  would  meet 
one  of  his  Grace's  sub-factors,  who  was  coming  down  from 
the  Highlands  to  Edinburgh  with  his  wife,  and  under  whose 
charge  she  might  journey  with  comfort  and  in  safety. 

Jeanie  remonstrated  against  this  arrangement.  "  She  had 
beeti  lang,''  she  said,  "  frae  hame  :  her  father  and  her  sister 
behoved  to  be  very  anxious  to  see  her ;  there  were  other 
friends  she  had  that  werena  weel  in  health.  She  was  willing 
to  pay  for  man  and  horse  at  Glasgow,  and  surely  naebody  wad 
meddle  wi'  sae  harmless  and  feckless  a  creature  as  she  was. 
She  was  muckle  obliged  by  the  offer  ;  but  never  hunted  deer 
langed  for  its  resting-place  as  I  do  to  find  myself  at  St. 
Leonard's." 

The  groom  of  the  chambers  exchanged  a  look  with  his 
female  companion,  which  seemed  'so  full  of  meaning  that 
Jeanie  screamed  aloud — "  0,  Mr.  Archibald — Mrs.  Dutton, 
if  ye  ken  of  ony thing  that  has  happened  at  St.  Leonard's, 
for  God's  sake — for  pity's  sake,  tell  me,  and  dinna  keep  me  in 
siuspense  ! " 

''  I  really  know  nothing,  Mrs.  Deans,"  said  the  groom  of 
the  chambers. 

"  And  I — I — I  am  sure  I  knows  as  little,"  said  the  dame  of 
the  dairy,  while  some  communication  seemed  to  tremble  on 
her  lips,  which,  at  a  glance  of  Archibald's  eye,  she  appeared 
to  swallow  down,  and  compressed  her  lips  thereafter  into  a 
state  of  extreme  and  vigilant  firmness,  as  if  she  had  been 
afraid  of  its  bolting  out  before  she  was  aware. 

Jeanie  saw  that  there  was  to  be  something  concealed  from 
her,  and  it  was  only  the  repeated  assurances  of  Archibald  that 
her  father — her  sister — all  her  friends  were,  as  far  as  he 
knew,  well  and  happy,  that  at  all  pacified  her  alarm.  From 
such  respectable  people  as  those  with  whom  she  travelled  she 
could  apprehend  no  harm,  and  yet  her  distress  Avasso  obvious 
that  Archibald,  as  a  last  resource,  pulled  out  and  put  into  her 
hand  a  slip  of  paper,  on  which  these  words  were  written  : 

**  Jeanie  Deans — You  will  do  me  a  favor  by  going  with 
Archibald  and  my  female  domestic  a  day's  journey  beyond 
Glasgow,  and  asking  them  no  questions,  which  will  greatly 
oblige  your  friend, 

"  Argyle  &  Geeenwich." 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  407 

Although  this  laconic  epistle,  from  a  nobleman  to  whom 
she  was  bound  by  such  inestimable  obligations,  silenced  all 
Jeanie's  objections  to  the  proposed  route,  it  rather  added  to 
than  diminislied  tlie  eiigerness  of  her  curiosity.  The  pro- 
ceeding to  Ghisgow  seemed  now  no  longer  to  be  an  object  with 
her  fellow-travellers.  On  the  contrary,  they  kept  the  left- 
hand  side  of  the  river  Clyde,  and  travelled  through  a  thou- 
sand beautiful  and  changing  views  downtlie  side  of  that  noble 
stream,  till,  ceasing  to  hold  its  inland  character,  it  began  to 
assume  tliat  of  a  navigable  river. 

"  You  are  not  forgaun  intill  Glasgow,  then  ?^*said  Jeanie, 
as  she  observed  tlnit  the  drivers  made  no  motion  for  inclining 
their  horses'  heads  towards  the  ancient  bridge,  which  was 
then  tlie  only  mode  of  access  to  St.  Mungo's  capital. 

"  No,"  replied  Archibald  ;  "there  is  some  popular  commo- 
tion, and  as  our  Duke  is  in  opposition  to  the  court,  perhaps 
we  might  be  too  well  received  ;  or  they  might  take  it  in  their 
heads  to  remember  that  the  Captain  of  Carrick  came  down 
upon  them  with  his  Highlandmen  in  the  time  of  Shawfield's 
mob  *  in  1725,  and  then  we  would  be  too  ill  received.  And, 
at  any  rate,  it  is  best  for  lis,  and  for  me  in  particular,  who 
may  be  supposed  to  possess  his  Grace's  mind  upon  many  par- 
ticulars, to  leave  the  good  people  of  the  Gorbals  to  act  ac- 
cording to  their  own  imaginations,  without  either  provoking 
or  encouraging  them  by  my  presence." 

To  reasoning  of  such  tone  and  consequence  Jeanie  had 
nothing  to  reply,  although  it  seemed  to  her  to  contain  fully 
as  much  self-importance  as  truth. 

The  carriage  meantime  rolled  on  ;  the  river  expanded  it- 
self, and  gradually  assumed  the  dignity  of  an  estuary,  or  arm 
of  the  sea.  The  influence  of  the  advancing  and  retiring 
tides  became  more  and  more  evident,  and  in  the  beautiful 
words  of  him  of  the  laurel  wreath,  the  river  waxed 

A  broader  and  a  broader  stream. 

The  cormorant  stands  upon  its  shoals. 
His  black  and  dripping  wings 
Half  d^en'd  to  the  wind.f 

"  Which  way  lies  Inverary  ?  "  said  Jeanie,  gazing  on  the 
dusky  ocean  of  Highland  hills,  which  now,  piled  above  each 
other,  and  intersected  by  many  a  lake,  stretched  away  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  river  to  the  northward.  "  Is  yon  high  cas- 
tle the  Duke's  hoose  ?" 

•  See  Note  34. 

tFrom  Southey's  Thalaba,  Bk.  XI.,  stanza  36  (Laing^. 


408  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

"  That,  Mrs.  Deans  ?  Lud  help  thee,"  replied  Archibald  ; 
''tuat's  the  old  Castle  of  Dunbarrou,  tlie  strongest  place  in 
Europe,  be  the  other  what  it  may.  Sir  William  Wallace  was 
governor  of  it  in  the  old  wars  with  the  English,  and  his  Grace 
is  governor  just  now.  It  is  always  intrusted  to  the  best  man 
in  Scotland." 

"  And  does  the  Duke  live  on  that  high  rock,  then  ?"  de- 
manded Jeanie. 

"  No,  no,  he  has  his  deputy-governor,  who  commands 
in  his  absence  ;  he  lives  in  the  white  house  you  see  at  the 
bottom  of  the  rock.  His  Grace  does  not  reside  there  him- 
self." 

''I  think  not,  indeed,"  said  the  dairywoman,  upon  whose 
mind  the  road,  since  they  had  left  Dumfries,  had  made  no 
very  favorable  impression  ;  "  for  if  he  did,  he  might  go  whistle 
for  a  dairywoman,  an  he  were  the  only  duke  in  England.  I 
did  not  leave  my  place  and  my  friends  to  come  down  to  see 
cows  starve  to  death  upon  hills  as  they  be  at  that  pig-stye  of 
Elfiiifoot,  as  you  call  it,  Mr.  Archibald,  or  to  be  perched  up 
on  the  top  of  a  rock,  like  a  squirrel  in  his  cage,  hung  out  of 
a  three  pair  of  stairs  window." 

Inwardly  chuckling  that  these  symptoms  of  recalcitration 
had  not  taken  place  until  the  fair  malcontent  was,  as  he  men- 
tally termed  it,  under  his  thumb,  Archibald  coolly  replied, 
"^  That  the  hills  were  none  of  his  making,  nor  did  he  know  how 
to  mend  them  ;  but  as  to  lodging,  they  would  soon  be  in  a 
house  of  the  Duke's  in  a  very  pleasant  island  called  Rose- 
ne  itli,  where  they  went  to  wait  for  shipping  to  take  them  to 
Inverary,  and  would  meet  the  company  withwhom  Jeanie  was 
to  return  to  Edinburgh." 

'''An  island  !"  said  Jeanie,  who,  in  the  course  of  her  va- 
rious and  adventurous  travels,  had  never  quitted  terra firma, 
"  then  I  am  doubting  we  maun  gang  in  ane  of  these  boats  ; 
they  look  unco  sma',  and  the  waves  are  something  rough, 
and " 

"  Mr.  Archibald,"  said  Mrs.  Dutton,  "I  will  not  consent 
to  it ;  I  was  never  engaged  to  leave  the  country,  and  I  desire 
you  will  bid  the  boys  drive  round  the  other  way  to  the  Duke's 
house." 

"  There  is  a  safe  pinnace  belonging  to  his  Grace,  ma'am, 
close  by,"  replied  Archibald,  "and  you  need  be  under  no  ap- 
prehensions whatsoever. " 

'^'^But  I  am  under  apprehensions,"  said  the  damsel ;  '*^and 
I  insist  upon  going  round  by  land,  Mr.  Archibald,  were  it  ten 
miles  about." 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  409 

''  I  am  sorry  I  cannot  oblige  you,  madam,  as  Roseneath 
happens  to  be  an  island/' 

"  If  it  were  ten  islands,"  said  the  incensed  dame,  *' that's 
no  reason  why  I  should  be  drowned  in  going  over  the  seas  to 
it." 

"No  reason  why  you  should  be  drowned,  certainly, 
ma'am,"  answered  the  unmoved  groom  of  the  chambers,  "  but 
an  admirable  good  one  why  you  cannotproceed  to  it  by  hind," 
And,  fixed  his  master's  mandates  to  perform,  lie  pointed  with 
his  hand,  and  the  drivers,  turning  off  the  high-road,  proceeded 
towards  a  small  hamlet  of  fishing  huts,  where  a  shallop,  some- 
what more  gayly  decorated  than  any  which  they  had  yet  seen, 
having  a  flag  which  displayed  a  boar's  head,  crested  with  a 
ducal  coronet,  waited  with  two  or  three  seamen  and  as  many 
Highlanders. 

The  carriage  stopped,  and  the  men  began  to  unyoke  their 
horses,  while  Mr.  Archibald  gravely  superintended  the  removal 
of  the  baggage  from  the  carriage  to  the  little  vessel.  "  Has 
the  '  Caroline'  been  long  arrived  ?"  said  Archibald  to  one  of 
the  seamen. 

"  She  has  been  here  in  five  days  from  Liverpool,  and  she's 
lying  down  at  Greenock,"  answered  the  fellow. 

"  Let  the  horses  and  carriage  go  down  to  Greenock,  then," 
said  Archibald,  "and  be  embarked  there  forlnverary  when  I 
send  notice  :  they  may  stand  in  my  cousin's,  Duncan  Archi- 
bald the  stabler's.  Ladies,"  he  added,  "  I  hope  you  will  get 
yourselves  ready,  we  must  not  lose  the  tide." 

"  Mrs.  Deans,"  said  the  Cowslip  of  Inverary,  "you  may 
do  as  you  please,  but  I  will  sit  here  all  night,  rather  than  go 
into  that  there  painted  egg-shell.  Fellow — fellow  !  [this  was 
addressed  to  a  Highlander  who  was  lifting  a  travelling  trunk], 
that  trunk  is  mine,  and  that  there  bandbox,  and  tliat  pillion 
mail,  and  those  seven  bundles,  and  the  paper  bag  ;  and  if  you 
venture  to  touch  one  of  them,  it  shall  be  at  your  peril." 

The  Celt  kept  his  eye  fixed  on  the  speaker,  then  turned  his 
head  towards  Archibald,  and  receiving  no  countervailing  sig- 
nal, he  shouldered  the  portmanteau,  and  without  further  no- 
tice of  the  distressed  damsel,  or  paying  any  attention  to  re- 
monstrances, which  probably  he  did  not  understand,  and 
would  certainly  have  eqiially  disregarded  whether  he  under- 
stood them  or  not,  moved  oi?  with  Mrs.  Dutton's  wearables, 
and  deposited  the  trunk  containing  them  safely  in  the  boat. 

The  baggage  being  stowed  in  safety,  Mr.  Archibald  handed 
Jeanie  out  of  the  carriage,  and,  not  without  some  tremor  on 
her  part,  she  was  transported  through  the  surf  and  placed  in 


410  ■     WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

the  boat.  He  then  offered  the  same  civility  to  his  fellow-serv- 
ant, but  she  was  resolute  in  her  refusal  to  quit  the  carriage, 
in  which  she  now  remained  in  solitary  state,  threatening  all 
concerned  or  unconcerned  with  actions  for  wages  and  board- 
wages,  damages  and  expenses,  and  numbering  on  her  fingers 
the  gowns  and  other  habiliments  from  which  she  seemed  in 
the  act  of  being  separated  forever.  Mr.  Archibald  did  not 
give  himself  the  trouble  of  making  many  remonstrances, 
which,  indeed,  seemed  only  to  aggravate  the  damsel's  indig- 
nation, but  spoke  two  or  three  words  to  the  Highlanders  in 
Gaelic  ;  and  the  wily  mountaineers,  approaching  the  carriage 
cautiously,  and  without  giving  the  slightest  intimation  of  their 
intention,  at  once  seized  the  recusant  so  eifectually  fast  that 
she  could  neither  resist  nor  struggle,  and  hoisting  her  on  their 
shoulders  in  nearly  an  horizontal  posture,  rushed  dowu  with 
her  to  the  beach,  and  through  the  surf,  and,  with  no  other 
inconvenience  than  ruffling  her  garments  a  little,  deposited 
Iier  in  the  boat ;  but  in  a  state  of  surprise,  mortification,  and 
terror  at  her  sudden  transportation  which  rendered  her  ab- 
solutely mute  for  two  or  three  minutes.  The  men  jumped  in 
themselves  ;  one  tall  fellow  remained  till  he  had  pushed  oft' 
the  boat,  and  then  tumbled  in  upon  his  companions.  They 
took  their  oars  and  began  to  pull  from  the  shore,  then  spread 
their  sail  and  drove  merrily  across  the  firth. 

"  You  Scotch  villain  ! "  said  the  infuriated  damsel  to  Archi- 
bald,  'Miow  dare  you  use  a  person  like  me  in  this  way  ?" 

"  Madam,"  said  Archibald,  with  infinite  composure,  "  it's 
high  time  you  should  know  you  are  in  the  Duke's  country. 
and  that  there  is  not  one  of  these  fellows  but  would  throw  you 
out  of  the  boat  as  readily  as  into  it,  if  such  were  his  Grace's 
pleasure.'' 

"  Then  the  Lord  have  mercy  on  me  ! "  said  Mrs.  Dutton. 
*'  If  I  had  had  any  on  myself  I  would  never  have  engaged  with 
you." 

"  It's  something  of  the  latest  to  think  of  that  now,  Mrs. 
Dutton,"  said  Archibald  ;  "  but  I  assure  you,  you  will  find 
the  Highlands  have  their  pleasures.  You  will  have  a  dozen 
of  cow-milkers  under  your  own  authority  at  Inverary,  and 
you  may  throw  any  of  them  into  the  lake  if  you  have  a  mind, 
for  the  Duke's  head  people  are  almost  as  great  as  himself." 

"  This  is  a  strange  business,  to  be  sure,  Mr.  Archibald," 
said  the  lady  ;  "  but  I  suppose  I  must  make  the  best  on't. 
Are  you  sure  the  boat  will  not  sink  ?  it  leans  terribly  to  one 
side,  in  my  poor  mind." 

"Fear  nothing,"  said  Mr.  Archibald,  taking  a  most  ini- 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  411 

portant pinch  of  snnff  ;  "this  same  ferry  on  Clyde  knows  os 
very  well,  or  we  know  it,  which  is  all  the  same ;  no  fear  of 
any  of  onr  people  meeting  with  any  accident.  We  should 
have  crossed  from  the  opposite  shore,  but  for  the  disturbances 
at  Glasgow,  which  made  it  improper  for  his  Grace's  people  to 
pass  through  the  city." 

"  Are  you  not  afeard,  Mrs.  Deans,'*  said  the  dairy  vestal, 
addressing  Jeanie,  who  sat,  not  in  the  most  comfortable  state 
of  mind,  by  the  side  of  Archibald,  who  himself  managed  the 
helm — "are  you  not  afeard  of  these  wild  men  with  their 
naked  knees,  and  of  this  nutshell  of  a  thing,  that  seems  bob- 
bing up  and  down  like  a  skimming-dish  in  a  milk-pail  V 

"No — no,  madam,"  answered  Jeanie,  with  some  hesita- 
tion, "  I  am  not  feared  ;  for  I  hae  seen  Hielandmen  before, 
though  I  never  was  sae  near  them  ;  and  for  the  danger  of  the 
deep  waters,  I  trust  there  is  a  Providence  by  sea  as  well  as  by 
land." 

"  Well,"  said  Mrs.  Button,  "it  is  a  beautiful  thing  to  have 
learned  to  write  and  read,  for  one  can  always  say  such  fine 
words  whatever  should  befall  them." 

Archibald,  rejoicing  in  the  impression  which  his  vigorous 
measures  had  made  upon  the  intractable  dairymaid,  now  ap- 
plied himself,  as  a  sensible  and  good-natured  man,  to  secure 
by  fair  means  the  ascendency  which  he  had  obtained  by 
some  wholesome  violence  ;  and  he  succeeded  so  well  in  repre- 
senting to  her  the  idle  nature  of  her  fears,  and  the  impossi- 
bility of  leaving  her  upon  the  beach  enthroned  in  an  empty 
carriage,  that  the  good  understanding  of  the  party  was  com- 
pletely revived  ere  they  landed  at  Roseneath. 


CHAPTER  XLII 

Did  Fortune  guide. 
Or  rather  Destiny,  our  bark,  to  which 
We  could  appoint  no  port,  to  this  best  place  ? 

Fletcher. 

The  islands  in  the  Firth  of  Clyde,  which  the  daily  passage  of 
so  many  smoke-pennoned  steamboats  now  renders  so  easily 
accessible,  were  in  our  fathers'  times  secluded  spots,  frequented 
by  no  travellers,  and  few  visitants  of  any  kind.  They  are  of 
exquisite  yet  varied  beauty.  Arran,  a  mountainous  region,  or 
j\lpine  island,  abounds  with  the  grandest  and  most  romantic 
scenery.  Bute  is  of  a  softer  and  more  woodland  character. 
The  Oumrays,  as  if  to  exhibit  a  contrast  to  both,  are  green, 
level,  and  bare,  forming  the  links  of  a  sort  of  natural  bar, 
which  is  drawn  along  the  mouth  of  the  firth,  leaving  large 
intervals,  however,  of  ocean.  Eoseneath,  a  smaller  isle,  lies 
much  higher  up  the  firth,  and  towards  its  western  shore,  near 
the  opening  of  the  lake  called  the  Gare  Loch,  and  not  far 
from  Loch  Long  and  Loch  Scant,  or  the  Holy  Loch,  which 
wind  from  the  mountains  of  the  Western  Highlands  to  join 
the  estuary  of  the  Clyde. 

In  these  isles  the  severe  frost  winds  which  tyrannize  over 
the  vegetable  creation  during  a  Scottish  spring  are  compara- 
tively little  felt ;  nor,  excepting  the  gigantic  strength  of  Arran, 
are  they  much  exposed  to  the  Atlantic  storms,  lying  land- 
locked and  protected  to  the  westward  by  the  shores  of  Ayr- 
shire [Argyllshire].  Accordingly,  the  weeping-willow,  the 
weeping-birch,  and  other  trees  of  early  and  pendulous  shoots, 
flourish  in  these  favored  recesses  in  a  degree  unknown  in  our 
eastern  districts  ;  and  the  air  is  also  said  to  possess  that  mild- 
ness which  is  favorable  to  consumptive  cases. 

The  picturesque  beauty  of  the  island  of   Eoseneath,  in 

Particular,  had  such  recommendations  that  the  Earls  and 
>ukes  of  Argyle  from  an  early  period  made  it  their  occasional 
residence,  and  had  their  temporary  accommodation  in  a  fish- 
ing or  hunting  lodge,  which  succeeding  improvements  have 

413 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  413 

since  transformed  into  a  palace.  It  was  in  its  original  sim- 
plicity when  the  little  bark  which  we  left  traversing  the  firth 
at  the  end  of  last  chapter  approached  the  shores  of  the  isle. 

When  they  touched  the  landing-place,' which  was  partly 
shrouded  by  some  old  low  but  wide-spreading  oak  trees,  inter- 
mixed with  hazel-bushes,  two  or  three  figures  were  seen  as  if 
awaiting  their  arrival.  To  these  Jeanie  paid  little  attention, 
so  that  it  was  with  a  shock  of  surprise  almost  electrical  that, 
upon  being  carried  by  the  rowers  out  of  the  boat  to  the  shore, 
she  was  received  in  the  arms  of  her  father  ! 

It  was  too  wonderful  to  be  believed — too  much  like  a  happy 
dream  to  have  the  stable  feeling  of  reality.  She  extriccited 
herself  from  his  close  and  affectionate  embrace,  and  held  him 
at  arm's  length  to  satisfy  her  mind  that  it  was  no  illusion. 
But  the  form  was  indisputable — Douce  David  Deans  himself, 
in  his  best  light  blue  Sunday's  coat,  with  broad  metal  buttons, 
and  waistcoat  and  breeches  of  the  same  ;  his  strong gramashes 
or  leggins  of  thick  gray  cloth  ;  the  very  copper  buckles  ;  the 
broad  Lowland  blue  bonnet,  thrown  back  as  he  lifted  his  eyes 
to  Heaven  in  speechless  gratitude  ;  the  gray  locks  that  strag- 
gled from  beneath  it  down  his  weather-beaten  '*  haffets  ; " 
the  bald  and  furrowed  forehead  ;  the  clear  blue  eye,  that,  un- 
dimmed  by  years,  gleamed  bright  and  pale  from  under  its 
shaggy  gray  pent-house  ;  the  features,  usually  so  stern  and 
stoical,  now  melted  into  the  unwonted  expression  of  rapturous 
joy,  affection,  and  gratitude — were  all  those  of  David  Deans ; 
and  so  liappily  did  they  assort  together,  that,  should  1  ever 
again  see  my  friends  Wilkie  or  Allan,  I  will  try  to  borrow  or 
steal  from  them  a  sketch  of  this  very  scene. 

"  Jeanie — my  ain  Jeanie — my  best — my  maist  dutiful 
bairn  !  The  Lord  of  Israel  be  thy  father,  for  I  am  hardly 
worthy  of  thee  !  Thou  hast  redeemed  our  captivity,  brought 
back  the  honor  of  our  house.  Bless  thee,  my  bairn,  with 
mercies  pi'omised  and  purchased  !  But  He  has  blessed  thee, 
in  the  good  of  which  He  has  made  thee  the  instrument." 

These  words  broke  from  him  not  withorit  tears,  though 
David  was  of  no  melting  mood.  Archibald  had,  with  deli- 
cate attention,  withdrawn  the  sj^ectators  from  the  interview, 
60  that  the  wood  and  setting  sun  alone  were  witnesses  of  the 
expansion  of  their  feelings. 

"  And  Effie  ? — and  Effie,  dear  father  ?  "  was  an  eager  in- 
terjectional  question  which  Jeanie  repeatedly  threw  in  among 
her  expressions  of  joyful  thankfulness. 

"  Ye  will  hear — ye  will  hear,"  said  David,  hastily,  and 
ever  and   anon   renewed   his  grateful   acknowledgments   to 


414  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

Hearen  for  sending  Jeanie  safe  down  from  the  land  of  pre- 
latic  deadness  and  schismatic  heresy  ;  and  had  delivered  her 
from  the  dangers  of  the  way,  and  the  lions  that  were  in  the 
path. 

''And  Effie  ?'*  repeated  her  affectionate  sister  again  and 
again.  "  And — and  [fain  would  she  have  said  Butler,  but 
she  modified  the  direct  inquiry]— and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Saddle- 
tree— and  Dumbiedikes — and  a'  friends  ?" 

"A'  weel — a'  weel,  praise  to  His  name  !  " 

"  And — and  Mr.  Butler  ?  He  wasna  weel  when  I  gaed 
awa. 

"  He  is  quite  mended — quite  weel/'  replied  her  father. 

"  Thank  God  !  but  0,  dear  father,  Effie  ?— Effie  ?  " 

"  You  will  never  see  her  mair,  my  bairn,^'  answered  Deans 
m  a  solemn  tone.  "  You  are  the  ae  and  only  leaf  left  now  on 
the  auld  tree  ;  heal  be  your  portion  !  " 

"  She  is  dead  !  She  is  slain  !  It  has  come  ower  late  ! " 
exclaimed  Jeanie,  wringing  her  hands. 

"  No,  Jeanie,"  returned  Deans,  in  the  same  grave,  melan- 
choly tone.  "  She  lives  in  the  flesh,  and  is  at  freedom  from 
earthly  restraint,  if  she  were  as  much  alive  in  faith  and  as  free 
from  the  bonds  of  Satan." 

"  The  Lord  protect  us  ! "  said  Jeanie.  ''  Can  the  unhap- 
py bairn  hae  left  you  for  that  villain  ?" 

"  It  is  ower  truly  spoken,"  said  Deans.  "  She  has  left  her 
auld  father,  that  has  wept  and  prayed  for  her.  She  has  left 
her  sister,  that  travailed  and  toiled  for  her  like  a  mother. 
She  lias  left  the  bones  of  her  mother,  and  the  land  of  her  peo- 
ple, and  she  is  ower  the  march  wi'  that  son  of  Belial.  She  has 
made  a  moonlight  flitting  of  it."  He  paused,  for  a  feeling 
betwixt  sorrow  and  strong  resentment  choked  his  utterance. 

"And  wi'  that  man — that  fearfu'  man?"  said  Jeanie. 
''  And  she  has  left  us  to  gang  aff  wi'  him  ?  0  Effie,  Effie, 
wha  could  hae  thought  it,  after  sic  a  deliverance  as  you  had 
been  gifted  wi'  !" 

"  She  went  out  from  us,  my  bairn,  because  she  was  not  of 
us,"  replied  David.  "  She  is  a  withered  branch  will  never 
bear  fruit  of  grace — a  scapegoat  gone  forth  into  the  wilderness 
of  the  world,  to  carry  wi'  her,  as  I  trust,  the  sins  of  our  little 
congregation.  The  peace  of  the  warld  gang  wi'  her,  and  a 
better  peace  when  she  has  the  grace  to  turn  to  it !  If  she  is 
of  His  elected.  His  ain  hour  will  come.  What  would  her 
mother  have  said,  that  famous  and  memorable  matron,  Eebec- 
ca  M*  Naught,  whose  memory  is  like  a  flower  of  sweet  savor 
in  Newbattle  and  a  pot  of  frankincense  in  Lugton  ?    But  be 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  415 

it  sae ;  let  her  part — let  her  gang  her  gate — let  her  hite  on  her 
ain  bridle.  The  Lord  kens  His  time.  She  was  the  bairn  of 
prayers,  and  may  not  prove  an  ntter  castaAvay.  But  never, 
Jeanie — never  more  let  her  name  be  spoken  between  you  and 
me.  She  hath  passed  from  us  like  the  brook  which  vanisheth 
when  the  summer  waxeth  warm,  as  patient  Job  saith  ;  let  her 
pass,  and  be  forgotten." 

There  was  a  melancholy  pause  which  followed  these  ex- 
pressions. Jeanie  would  fain  have  asked  more  circumstances 
relating  to  her  sister's  departure,  but  the  tone  of  her  father's 
prohibition  was  positive.  She  was  about  to  mention  her  in- 
terview with  Staunton  at  his  father's  rectory  ;  but,  on  hastily 
running  over  the  particulars  in  her  memory,  she  thought  that, 
on  the  whole,  they  were  more  likely  to  aggravate  than  dimin- 
ish his  distress  of  mind.  She  turned,  therefore,  the  discourse 
from  this  painful  subject,  resolving  to  suspend  further  inquiry 
until  she  should  see  Butler,  from  whom  she  expected  to  learn 
the  particulars  of  her  sister's  elopement. 

But  when  was  she  to  see  Butler  ?  was  a  question  she  could 
not  forbear  asking  herself,  especially  while  her  father,  as  if 
eager  to  escape  from  the  subject  of  his  youngest  daughter, 
pointed  to  the  opposite  shore  of  Dunbartonshire,  and  asking 
Jeanie  "  if  it  werena  a  pleasant  abode  ?"  declared  to  her  his 
intention  of  removing  his  earthly  tabernacle  to  that  country, 
"  in  respect  he  was  solicited  by  his  Grace  the  Duke  of  Argyle, 
as  one  well  skilled  in  country  labor  and  a'  that  aj^pertained 
to  flocks  and  herds,  to  superintend  a  store  farm  whilk  his 
Grace  had  taen  into  his  ain  hand  for  the  improvement  of 
stock." 

Jeanie's  heart  sunk  within  her  at  this  declaration.  "  She 
allowed  it  was  a  goodly  and  pleasant  land,  and  sloped  bonnily 
to  the  western  sun  ;  and  she  doubtedna  that  the  pasture  might 
be  very  gude,  for  the  grass  looked  green,  for  as  drouthy  as  the 
weather  had  been.  But  it  was  far  f  rae  hame,  and  she  thought 
she  wad  be  often  thinking  on  the  bonny  spots  of  turf,  sae  f u'  of 
gowans  and  yellow  kingcups,  amang  the  Crags  at  St.  Leon- 
ard's." 

"  Dinna  speak  on't,  Jeanie,"  said  her  father ;  "I  wish  never 
to  hear  it  named  mair — that  is,  after  the  rouping  is  ower,  and 
the  bills  paid.  But  I  brought  a'  the  beasts  ower-bye  that  I 
thought  ye  wad  like  best.  There  is  Gowans,  and  there's  your 
ain  brockit  cow,  and  the  wee  hawkit  ane,  that  ye  ca'd — I  needna 
tell  ye  how  ye  ca'd  it ;  but  I  couldna  bid  them  sell  the  petted 
creature,  though  the  sight  o't  may  sometimes  gie  us  a  sair  heart : 
it's  no  the  poor  dumb  creature's  fault.     And  ane  or  twa  beasts 


416  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

mair  I  li.ie  reserved,  and  I  caused  them  to  be  driven  before  the 

other  beasts,  that  men  might  say,  as  when  the  son  of  Jesse 
returned  from  battle,  'This  is  David^s  spoil/" 

Upon  more  particular  inquiry,  Jeanie  found  new  occasion  to 
admire  the  active  beneficence  of  her  friend  the  Duke  of  Argyle. 
While  establishing  a  sort  of  experimental  farm  on  the  skirts  of 
his  immense  Highland  estates,  he  had  been  somewhat  at  a  loss 
to  find  a  proper  person  in  whom  to  vest  the  charge  of  it.  The 
conversation  his  Grace  had  upon  country  matters  with  Jeanie 
Deans  during  their  return  from  Richmond  had  impressed  him 
with  a  belief  that  the  father,  whose  experience  and  success  she 
so  frequently  quoted,  must  be  exactly  the  sort  of  person  whom 
he  wanted.  When  the  condition  annexed  to  Efifie's  pardon 
rendered  it  highly  probable  that  David  Deans  would  choose  to 
change  his  place  of  residence,  this  idea  again  occurred  to  the 
Dake  more  strongly,  and  as  he  was  an  enthusiast  equally  in 
agriculture  and  in  benevolence,  he  imagined  he  was  serving  the 
purposes  of  both  when  he  wrote  to  the  gentleman  in  Edinburgh 
intrusted  with  his  affairs  to  inquire  into  the  character  of  David 
Deans,  cow-feeder,  and  so  forth,  at  St.  Leonardos  Crags ;  and 
if  he  found  him  such  as  he  had  been  represented,  to  engage  him 
without  delay,  and  on  the  most  liberal  terms,  to  superintend 
his  fancy-farm  in  Dunbartonshire. 

The  proposal  was  made  to  old  David  by  the  gentleman  so 
commissioned  on  the  second  day  after  his  daughter's  pardon 
had  reached  Edinburgh.  His  resolution  to  leave  St.  Leon- 
ard's had  been  already  formed  ;  the  honor  of  an  express  invi- 
tation from  the  Duke  of  Argyle  to  superintend  a  department 
where  so  much  skill  and  diligence  was  required  was  in  itself 
extremely  flattering  ;  and  the  more  so,  because  honest  David, 
who  was  not  without  an  excellent  opinion  of  his  own  talents, 
persuaded  himself  that,  by  accepting  this  charge,  he  would  in 
some  sort  repay  the  great  favor  he  had  received  at  the  hands 
of  the  Argyle  family.  The  appointments,  including  the  right 
of  sufficient  grazing  for  a  small  stock  of  his  own,  were  amply 
liberal ;  and  David's  keen  eye  saw  that  the  situation  was  con- 
venient for  trafficking  to  advantage  in  Highland  cattle.  There 
was  risk  of  "  hership"  from  the  neighboring  mountains,  in- 
deed, but  the  awful  name  of  the  Duke  of  Argyle  would  be  a 
great  security,  and  a  trifle  of  blackmail  would,  David  was 
aware,  assure  his  safety. 

Still,  however,  there  were  two  points  on  which  he  haggled. 
The  first  was  the  character  of  the  clergyman  with  whose 
worship  he  was  to  join  ;  and  on  this  delicate  point  he  received, 
as  we  will  presei-tly  show  the  reader,  perfect  satisfaction. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  417 

The  next  obstacle  was  the  condition  of  his  youngest  daughter, 
obliged  as  she  was  to  leave  Scothmd  for  so  many  years. 

The  gentleman  of  the  law  smiled,  and  said,  "  There  was 
no  occasion  to  interpret  that  clause  very  strictly  ;  tliat  if  the 
young  woman  left  Scotland  for  a  few  months,  or  even  weeks, 
and  came  to  her  father's  new  residence  by  sea  from  the 
western  side  of  England,  nobody  would  know  of  her  arrival, 
or  at  least  nobody  who  had  either  the  right  or  inclination 
to  give  her  disturbance.  The  extensive  heritable  jurisdic- 
tions of  his  Grace  excluded  the  interference  of  other  magis- 
trates with  tliose  living  on  his  estates,  and  they  who  were  in 
immediate  dependence  on  him  would  receive  orders  to  give 
the  young  woman  no  disturbance.  Living  on  the  verge  of 
the  Highlands,  she  might,  indeed,  be  said  to  be  out  of  Scot- 
land, that  is,  beyond  the  bounds  of  ordinary  law  and  civil- 
ization." 

Old  Deans  was  not  quite  satisfied  with  this  reasoning  ;  but 
the  elopement  of  Effie,  which  took  place  on  the  third  night 
after  her  liberation,  rendered  his  residence  at  St.  Leonard's 
so  detestable  to  him  that  he  closed  at  once  with  the  proposal 
which  had  been  made  him,  and  entered  with  pleasure  into 
the  idea  of  surprising  Jeanie,  as  had  been  proposed  by  the 
Duke,  to  render  the  change  of  residence  more  striking  to 
her.  The  Duke  had  apprised  Archibald  of  these  circum- 
stances, with  orders  to  act  according  to  the  instructions  he 
should  receive  from  Edinburgh,  and  by  which  accordingly 
he  was  directed  to  bring  Jeanie  to  Roseneatli. 

The  father  and  daughter  communicated  these  matters  to 
each  other,  now  stopping,  now  walking  slowly  towards  the 
Lodge,  which  showed  itself  among  the  trees,  at  about  half  a 
mile's  distance  from  the  little  bay  in  which  they  had  landed. 

As  they  approached  the  house,  David  Deans  informed  his 
daughter,  with  somewhat  like  a  grim  smile,  which  was  the 
utmost  advance  he  ever  made  towards  a  mirthful  expression 
of  visage,  that  "there  was  baith  a  worshipful  gentleman  and 
ane  reverend  gentleman  residing  therein.  The  worshipful 
gentleman  was  his  honor  the  Laird  of  Knocktarlitie,  who 
was  bailie  of  the  lordship  under  the  Duke  of  Argyle,  ane 
Hieland  gentleman,  tarred  wi*  the  same  stick."  David 
doubted,  "  as  mony  of  them,  namely,  a  hasty  and  choleric 
temper,  and  a  neglect  of  the  higher  things  that  belong  to 
salvation,  and  also  a  gripping  unto  the  things  of  this  world, 
without  muckle  distinction  of  ])roperty  ;  but,  however,  ane 
gude  hospitable  gentleman,  with  whom  it  would  be  a  part  of 
wisdom  to  live  on  a  gude  understanding  ;  for  Hielandmen 


418  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

were  hasty — ower  hasty.  As  for  the  reverend  person  of 
whom  he  had  spoken,  he  was  candidate  by  favor  of  the  Duke 
of  Argyle  (for  David  would  not  for  the  universe  have  called 
him  presentee)  for  the  kirk  of  the  parish  in  which  their 
farm  was  situated,  and  he  was  likely  to  be  highly  acceptable 
unto  the  Christian  souls  of  the  parish,  who  were  hungering 
for  spiritual  manna,  having  been  fed  but  upon  sour  Hieland 
sowens  by  Mr.  Duncan  MacDonought,  the  last  minister, 
who  began  the  morning  duly,  Sunday  and  Saturday,  with  a 
mutchkin  of  usquebaugh.  But  I  need  say  the  less  about 
the  present  lad,"'  said  David,  again  grimly  grimacing,  "as 
I  think  ye  may  hae  seen  him  afore  ;  and  here  he  is  come  to 
meet  us.'' 

She  had  indeed  seen  him  before,  for  it  was  no  other  than 
Reuben  Butler  himself. 


CHAPTEB  XLin 

No  more  shalt  thou  behold  thy  sister's  face  ; 
Thou  hast  already  had  her  last  embrace. 

Elegy  on  Mrs.  Anne  Killigrew. 

This  second  surprise  had  been  accomplished  for  Jeanie  Deans 
by  the  rod  of  the  same  benevolent  enchanter  whose  power 
had  transplanted  her  father  from  the  Crags  of  St.  Leonardos 
to  the  banks  of  the  Gare  Loch.  The  Duke  of  Argyle  was 
not  a  person  to  forget  the  hereditary  debt  of  gratitude  which 
had  been  bequeathed  to  him  by  his  grandfather  in  favor  of 
the  grandson  of  old  Bible  Butler.  He  had  internally  re- 
solved to  provide  for  Reuben  Butler  in  this  kirk  of  Knock- 
tarlitie,  of  which  the  incumbent  had  just  departed  this  life. 
Accordingly,  his  agent  received  the  necessary  instructions 
for  that  purpose,  under  the  qualifying  condition  always  that 
the  learning  and  character  of  Mr.  Butler  should  be  found 
proper  for  the  charge.  Upon  inquiry,  these  were  found  as 
highly  satisfactory  as  had  been  reported  in  the  case  of  David 
Deans  himself. 

By  this  i^referment,  the  Duke  of  Argyle  more  essentially 
benefitted  his  friend  and  protegee,  Jeanie,  than  he  himself 
was  aware  of,  since  he  contributed  to  remove  objections  in 
her  father's  mind  to  the  match,  which  he  had  no  idea  had 
been  in  existence. 

We  have  already  noticed  that  Deans  had  something  of  a 
prejudice  against  Butler,  which  v/as,  perhaps,  in  some  degree 
owing  to  his  possessing  a  sort  of  consciousness  that  the  poor 
usher  looked  with  eyes  of  affection  upon  his  eldest  daughter. 
This,  in  David's  eyes,  was  a  sin  of  presumption,  even  al- 
though it  should  not  be  followed  by  any  overt  act  or  actual 
proposal.  But  the  lively  interest  which  Butler  had  dis- 
played in  his  distresses  since  Jeanie  set  forth  on  her  London 
expedition,  and  which,  therefore,  he  ascribed  to  personal 
respect  for  himself  individually,  had  greatly  softened  the 
feelings  of  irritability  with  which  David  had  sometimes  re- 
garded him.  And,  Avhile  he  was  in  this  good  disposition 
towards  Butler,  another  incident  took  place  which  had  great 
influence  on  the  old  man's  mind. 

419 


420  WA  VERLEY  NO VELS 

So  soon  as  the  shock  of  Effie's  second  elopement  was  over, 
it  was  Deans's  early  care  to  collect  and  refund  to  the  Laird 
of  Dumbiedikes  the  money  which  he  had  lent  for  Effie's  trial 
and  for  Jeanie's  traveling  expenses.  The  Laird,  the  pony, 
the  cocked  hat,  and  the  tobacco-pipe  had  not  been  seen  at 
St.  Leonard's  Crags  for  many  a  day  ;  so  that,  in  order  to  pay 
this  debt,  David  was  under  the  necessity  of  repairing  in 
person  to  the  mansion  of  Dumbiedikes. 

He  found  it  in  a  state  of  unexpected  bustle.  There  were 
workmen  pulling  down  some  of  the  old  hangings  and  replac- 
ing them  with  others,  altering,  repairing,  scrubbing,  paint- 
ing, and  whitewashing.  There  was  no  knowing  the  old 
house,  which  had  been  so  long  the  mansion  of  sloth  and 
silence.  The  Laird  himself  seemed  in  some  confusion,  and 
his  reception,  though  kind,  lacked  something  of  the  rever- 
ential cordiality  with  which  he  used  to  greet  David  Deans. 
There  was  a  change  also,  David  did  nob  very  well  know  of 
what  nature,  about  the  exterior  of  this  landed  proprietor — an 
improvement  in  the  shape  of  his  garments,  a  spruceness  in 
the  air  with  which  they  were  put  on,  that  were  both  novel- 
ties. Even  the  old  hat  looked  smarter  ;  the  cock  had  been 
newly  pointed,  the  lace  had  been  refreshed,  and  instead  of 
slouching  backward  or  forward  on  the  Laird's  head  as  it 
happened  to  be  thrown  on,  it  was  adjusted  with  a  knowing 
inclination  over  one  eye. 

David  Deans  opened  his  business  and  told  down  the  cash. 
Dumbiedikes  steadily  inclined  his  ear  to  the  one,  and  counted 
the  other  with  great  accuracy,  interrupting  David,  while  he 
was  talking  of  the  redemption  of  the  captivity  of  Judah,  to 
ask  him  whether  he  did  not  think  one  or  two  of  the  guineas 
looked  rather  light.  When  he  was  satisfied  on  this  point, 
had  pocketed  his  money,  and  had  signed  a  receipt,  he  ad- 
dressed David  with  some  little  hesitation — "  Jeanie  wad  be 
writing  ye  something,  gudeman  ?  " 

"  About  the  siller  ?  "  replied  Davie.  "  Nae  doubt  she 
did." 

*'  And  did  she  say  nae  mair  about  me  ?  "  asked  the  Laird 

"  Nae  mair  but  kind  and  Christian  wishes  ;  what  suld  she 
hae  said  ?  "  replied  David,  fully  expecting  that  the  Laird's 
long  courtship,  if  his  dangling  after  Jeanie  deserves  so  active 
a  name,  was  now  coming  to  a  point.  And  so  indeed  it  was, 
but  not  to  that  point  which  he  wished  or  expected. 

"  Aweel,  she  kens  her  ain  mind  best,  gudeman.  T  hae 
made  a  clean  house  o'  Jenny  Balchristie  and  her  niece. 
They  were  a  bad  pack — stealed  meat  and  mault,  and  loot 


THE  TTEA RT  OF  MID L 0 TUIA N  4?1 

the  carters  magg  the  coals.     I'm  to  l)e  married  the  morn, 
and  kirkit  on  Sunday." 

Whatever  David  felt,  he  was  too  proud  and  too  steady- 
minded  to  show  tiny  unpleasant  surprise  in  his  countenance 
and  manner. 

"  I  wuss  ye  happy,  sir,  through  Him  that  gies  happinessj 
marriage  is  an  honorable  state." 

"And  I  am  wedding  into  an  honorable  house,  David — the 
Laird  of  Lickpelf's  youngest  daughter;  she  sits  next  us  in 
i^^he  kirk,  and  that's  the  way  I  came  to  think  on't." 

There  was  no  more  to  be  said,  but  again  to  wish  the  Laird 
joy,  to  taste  a  cup  of  his  liquor,  and  to  walk  back  again  to 
St.  Leonard's,  musing  on  the  mutability  of  human  affairs 
and  human  resolutions.  The  expectation  that  one  day  or 
other  Jeauie  would  be  Lady  Duinbiedikes  had,  in  spite  of 
himself,  kept  a  more  absolute  possession  of  David's  mind 
than  be  himself  was  aware  of.  At  least  it  had  hitherto 
seemed  an  union  at  all  times  within  his  daughter's  reach, 
whenever  she  might  choose  to  give  her  silent  lover  any  de- 
gree of  encouragement,  and  now  it  was  vanished  forever. 
David  returned,  therefore,  in  no  very  gracious  humor  for 
so  good  a  man.  He  was  angry  with  Jeanie  for  not  having 
encouraged  the  Laird;  he  was  angry  with  the  Laird  for  re- 
quiring encouragement;  and  he  was  angry  with  himself  for 
being  angry  at  all  on  the  occasion. 

On  his  return  ho  found  the  gentleman  who  managed  the 
Duke  of  Argyle's  affairs  was  desirous  of  seeing  him,  with  a 
view  to  completing  the  arrangement  between  them.  Thus, 
after  a  brief  repose,  he  was  obliged  to  set  off  anew  for  Edin- 
burgh, so  that  old  May  Hattly  declared,  "  That  a'  this  was 
to  end  with  the  master  just  walking  himself  aff  his  feet." 

Wlien  the  business  respecting  the  farm  had  been  talked 
over  and  arranged,  the  professional  gentleman  acquainted 
David  Deans,  iu  answer  to  his  inquiries  concerning  the  state 
of  public  worship,  that  it  was  the  pleasure  of  the  Duke  to 
put  an  excellent  young  clergyman  called  Reuben  Butler  into 
the  parish,  which  was  to  be  his  future  residence. 

"  Eeuben  Butler !"  exclaimed  David — "Reuben  Butler, 
the  usher  at  Libberton  ?  " 

"The  very  same,"  said  the  Duke's  commissioner.  "His 
Grace  has  heard  an  excellent  character  of  him,  and  has  some 
hereditary  obligations  to  him  besides;  few  ministers  will  be 
go  comfortable  as  1  am  directed  to  make  Mr.  Butler." 

'■  Obligaiic-'rii  The  Dukei  Obligations  to  Reuben 
Butler  I     Reuben  Butler  a  piac&d  minister  of  the  Kirk  of 


422  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

Scotland  !"  exclaimed  David,  in  interminable  astonishment; 
for  somehow  he  had  been  led  by  the  bad  success  which  But- 
ler had  hitherto  met  with  in  all  his  undertakings  to  consider 
him  as  one  of  those  stepsons  of  Fortune  whom  she  treats 
with  unceasing  rigor,  and  ends  with  disinheriting  alto- 
gether. 

There  is,  perhaps,  no  time  at  which  we  are  disposed  to 
think  so  highly  of  a  friend  as  when  we  find  him  standing 
higher  than  we  expected  in  the  esteem  of  others.  When 
assured  of  the  reality  of  Butlers  change  of  prosj^ects,  David 
expressed  his  great  satisfaction  at  his  success  in  life,  which 
he  observed,  was  entirely  owing  to  himself  (David).  "I 
advised  his  puir  grandmother,  who  was  but  a  silly  woman, 
to  breed  him  up  to  the  ministry  ;  and  1  prophesied  that, 
with  a  blessing  on  his  endeavors,  he  would  become  a  pol- 
ished shaft  in  the  temple.  He  may  be  something  ower 
proud  o'  his  carnal  learning,  but  a  gude  lad,  and  has  the 
root  of  the  matter  ;  as  ministers  gang  now,  where  ye^ll  find 
ane  better,  ye'll  find  ten  waur  than  Eeuben  Butler.''^ 

He  took  leave  of  the  man  of  business  and  walked  home- 
ward, forgetting  his  weariness  in  the  various  speculations 
to  which  this  wonderful  piece  of  intelligence  gave  rise. 
Honest  David  had  now,  like  other  great  men,  to  go  to  work 
to  reconcile  his  speculative  principles  with  existing  circum- 
stances-; and,  like  other  great  men,  when  they  set  seriously 
about  that  task,  he  was  tolerably  successful. 

"  Ought  Eeuben  Butler  in  conscience  to  accept  of  this 
preferment  in  the  Kirk  of  Scotland,  subject  (as  David  at 
present  thought  that  establishment  was)  to  the  Erastian 
encroachments  of  the  civil  power  ?  "  This  was  the  leading 
question,  and  he  considered  it  carefully.  "  The  Kirk  of 
Scotland  was  shorn  of  its  beams,  and  deprived  of  its  full 
artillery  and  banners  of  authority  ;  but  still  it  contained 
zealous  and  fructifying  pastors,  attentive  congregations,  and 
with  all  her  spots  and  blemishes,  the  like  of  this  kirk  was 
nowhere  else  to  be  seen  upon  earth." 

David's  doubts  had  been  too  many  and  too  critical  to  per- 
mit him  ever  unequivocally  to  unite  himself  with  any  of  the 
dissenters,  who,  upon  various  accounts  absolutely  seceded 
from  the  national  church.  He  had  often  joined  in  com- 
munion with  such  of  the  established  clergy  as  approached 
nearest  to  the  old  Presbyterian  model  and  principles  of  1640. 
And  although  there  were  many  things  to  be  amended  in 
that  system,  yet  he  remembered  that  he,  David  Deans,  had 
himself  ever  been  a  humble  pleader  for  the  good  old  cause 


TEE  HEART  OF  MID  L  O  TBI  A  N  42.3 

in  a  legal  way,  but  without  rushing  into  right-hand  excesses, 
divisions,  and  separations.  But,  as  an  enemy  to  separation, 
he  might  join  tlie  right-hand  of  fellowsliip  with  a  minister 
of  the  Kirk  of  Scotland  in  its  present  model.  Errjo,  Reu- 
ben Butler  might  take  possession  of  the  parish  of  Knock- 
tarlitie  without  forfeiting  his  friendship  or  favor — Q.  E.  D. 
But,  secondly  came  the  trying  point  of  lay  patronage,  which 
David  Deans  had  ever  maintained  to  be  a  coming  in  by  the 
window  and  over  the  wall,  a  cheating  and  starving  the  souls 
of  a  whole  parish,  for  the  purpose  of  clothing  the  back  and 
filling  the  belly  of  the  incumbent. 

This  presentation,  therefore,  from  the  Duke  of  Argyle, 
whatever  was  the  worth  and  high  character  of  that  noble- 
man, was  a  limb  of  the  brazen  image,  a  portion  of  the  evil 
thing,  and  with  no  kind  of  consistency  could  David  bend 
his  mind  to  favor  such  a  transaction.  But  if  the  parish- 
ioners themselves  joined  in  a  general  call  to  Reuben  Butler 
to  be  their  pastor,  it  did  not  seem  quite  so  evident  that  the 
existence  of  this  unhappy  presentation  was  a  reason  for  his 
refusing  them  the  comforts  of  his  doctrine.  If  the  presby- 
tery admitted  him  to  the  kirk  in  virtue  rather  of  that  act  of 
patronage  than  of  the  general  call  of  the  congregation,  that 
might  be  their  error,  and  David  allowed  it  was  a  heavy  one. 
But  if  Reuben  Butler  accepted  of  the  cure  as  tendered  to 
him  by  those  whom  he  was  called  to  teach,  and  who  had  ex- 
pressed themselves  desirous  to  learn,  David,  after  consider- 
ing and  reconsidering  the  matter,  came,  through  the  great 
virtue  of  "if,"  to  be  of  opinion  that  he  might  safely  so  act 
in  that  matter. 

There  remained  a  third  stumbling-block — the  oaths  to 
government  exacted  from  the  established  clergymen,  in 
which  they  acknowledge  an  Erastian  king  and  parliament, 
and  homologate  the  incorporating  Union  between  England 
and  Scotland,  through  which  the  latter  kingdom  had  become 
part  and  portion  of  the  former,  wherein  Prelacy,  the  sister 
of  Popery,  had  made  fast  her  throne  and  elevated  the  horns 
of  her  miter.  These  were  symptoms  of  defection  which  had 
often  made  David  cry  out,  "  My  bowels — my  bowels  !  I  am 
pained  at  the  very  heart  \"  And  he  remembered  that  a 
godly  Bow-head  matron  had  been  carried  out  of  the  Tolbooth 
Church  in  a  swoon,  beyond  the  reach  of  brandy  and  burnt 
feathers,  merely  on  hearing  these  fearful  words,  '  It  is  en- 
acted by  the  Lords  spiritual  and  temporal,"  pronounced 
from  a  Scottish  pulpit,  in  the  proem  to  the  Porteous  proc- 
lamation.    These  oaths  were,  therefore,  a  deep  compliance 


424  WAVERLKY  NOVELS 

and  rlire  abomination — a  sin  and  a  snare,  and  a  danger  and 
a  defection.  But  this  shibboleth  was  not  always  exacted. 
Ministers  had  respect  to  their  own  tender  consciences  and 
those  of  their  brethren  ;  and  it  was  not  till  a  later  period 
that  the  reins  of  discipline  were  taken  up  tight  by  the  General 
Assemblies  and  presbyteries.  I'he  peacemaking  particle 
came  again  to  David's  assistance.  If  an  incumbent  was  not 
called  upon  to  make  such  compliances,  and  ifh.Q  got  a  right 
entry  into  the  church  without  intrusion,  and  by  orderly 
aj)pointment,  why,  upon  the  whole,  David  Deans  came  to 
be  of  opinion  that  the  said  incumbent  might  lawfully  enjoy 
the  spirituality  and  temporality  of  the  cure  of  souls  at 
Knoektarlitie,  with  stipend,  manse,  glebe,  and  all  thereunto 
appertaining. 

The  best  and  most  npright-minded  men  are  so  strongly 
influenced  by  existing  circumstances,  that  it  would  be  some- 
what cruel  to  inquire  too  nearl}^  what  weight  joaternal  affec- 
tion gave  to  these  ingenious  trains  of  reasoning.  Let  David 
Deans's  situation  be  considered.  He  w;is  just  deprived  of 
one  daughter,  and  his  eldest,  to  whom  he  owed  so  much, 
wns  cut  off,  by  the  sudden  resolution  of  Dnmbiedikes,  from 
the  high  hope  which  David  had  entertained  that  she  might 
one  day  be  mistress  of  that  fair  lordship.  Just  while  this 
disappointment  was  bearing  heavy  on  his  spirits,  Butler 
comes  before  his  imagination — no  longer  the  half-starved 
threadbare  usher,  but  fat  and  sleek  and  fair,  the  beneficed 
minister  of  Knoektarlitie,  beloved  by  his  congregation,  ex- 
emplary in  his  life,  powerful  in  his  doctrine,  doing  the  duty 
of  the  kirk  as  never  Highland  minister  did  it  before,  turn- 
ing sinners  as  a  collie  dog  turns  sheep,  a  favorite  of  the 
Duke  of  Argyle,  and  drawing  a  stipend  of  eight  hundred 
punds  Scots  and  four  chalders  of  victual.  Here  was  a  match 
making  up,  in  David's  mind,  in  a  tenfold  degree,  the  disap- 
pointment in  the  case  of  Dnmbiedikes,  in  so  far  as  the  good- 
man  of  St.  Leonard's  held  a  powerful  minister  in  much 
greater  admiration  than  a  mere  landed  proprietor.  It  did 
not  occur  to  him,  as  an  additional  reason  in  favor  of  the 
match,  that  Jeanie  might  herself  have  some  choice  in  the 
matter  ;  for  the  idea  of  consulting  her  feelings  never  once 
entered  into  the  honest  man's  head,  any  more  than  the 
possibility  that  her  inclination  might  perhaps  differ  from 
his  own. 

The  result  of  his  meditations  was,  that  he  was  called  upon 
to  take  the  management  of  the  whole  affair  into  his  own 
hand,  and  give,  if  it  should  be  found  possible  without  sinful 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  425 

•iompliance,  or  backsliding,  or  defection  of  any  kind,  a 
worthy  pastor  to  the  kirk  of  Knocktarlitie.  Accordingly, 
by  the  intervention  of  the  honest  dealer  in  buttermilk  who 
dwelt  in  Libertou,  David  summoned  to  his  presence  Eeuben 
Butler.  Even  from  this  worthy  messenger  he  was  unable  to 
conceal  certain  swelling  emotions  of  dignity,  insomuch  that, 
when  the  carter  had  communicated  his  message  to  the  usher, 
he  added,  that  "  Certainly  the  gudeman  of  St.  Leonard's 
had  some  grand  news  to  tell  him,  for  he  was  as  uplifted  as 
ji  midden-cock  upon  pattens.''* 

Butler,  it  may  readily  be  conceived,  immediately  obeyed 
the  summons.  His  was  a  plain  character,  in  which  worth 
and  good  sense  and  simplicity  were  the  principal  ingredients  ; 
but  love  on  this  occasion,  gave  him  a  certain  degree  of  ad- 
dress. He  had  received  an  intimation  of  the  favor  designed 
him  by  the  Duke  of  Argyle,  with  what  feelings  those  only 
can  conceive  who  have  experienced  a  sudden  prospect  of 
being  raised  to  independence  and  respect,  from  penury  and 
toil.  He  resolved,  however,  that  the  old  man  should  retain 
all  the  consequences  of  being,  in  his  own  opinion,  the  first  to 
communicate  the  important  intelligence.  At  the  same  time, 
he  also  determined  that  in  the  expected  conference  he  would 
p<irmit  David  Deans  to  expatiate  at  length  upon  the  proposal 
in  all  its  bearings,  without  irritating  him  either  by  interrup- 
tion or  contradiction.  This  last  plan  was  the  most  prudent 
he  could  have  adopted ;  because,  although  there  were  many 
doubts  which  David  Deans  could  himself  clear  up  to  his  own 
satisfaction,  yet  he  might  have  been  by  no  means  disposed  to 
.iccept  the  solution  of  any  other  person  ;  and  to  engage  him 
in  an  argument  would  have  been  certain  to  confirm  him  at 
once  and  forever  in  the  opinion  which  Butler  chanced  to 
impugn. 

He  received  his  friend  with  an  appearance  of  important 
gravity,  which  real  misfortune  had  long  compelled  him  to  lay 
aside,  and  which  belonged  to  those  days  of  awful  authority 
in  which  he  predominated  over  Widow  Butler,  and  dictated 
the  mode  of  cultivating  the  crofts  at  Beersheba.  He  made 
known  to  Reuben  with  great  prolixity  the  prospect  of  his 
changing  his  present  residence  for  the  charge  of  the  Duke  of 
A.rgyle's  stock  farm  in  Dunbartonshire,  and  enumerated  the 
various  advantages  of  the  situation  with  obvious  self-con- 
gratulation ;  but  assured  the  patient  hearer  that  nothing  had 
so  much  moved  him  to  acceptance  as  the  sense  "  That,  by 
his  skill  in  bestial,  he  could  render  the  most  important 
services  t©  his  Grace  the  Duke  of  Argyle,  to  whom,  in  the 


426  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

late  unhappy  circumstances  (here  a  tear  dimmed  the  sparkle 
of  pride  in  the  old  man's  eye),  he  liad  been  sae  muckle  obHged. 
To  put  a  rude  '  Hielandman  into  sic  a  charge,"  he  continued, 
*'  what  could  be  expected  but  that  he  sulci  be  sic  a  chief  est 
herdsman  as  wicked  Doeg  the  Edomite  ;  whereas,  while  this 
gray  head  is  to  the  fore,  not  a  clute  o'  them  but  sail  be  as 
weel  cared  for  if  they  were  the  fatted  kine  of  Pharaoh.  And 
now,  Eeuben,  lad,  seeing  we  maun  remove  our  tent  to  a 
strange  country,  ye'll  be  casting  a  dolefu'  look  after  us, 
and  thinking  with  whom  ye  are  to  hold  council  anent  your 
government  in  thae  slippery  and  backsliding  times  ;  and  nae 
doubt  remembering  that  the  auld  man,  David  Deans,  was 
made  the  instrument  to  bring  you  out  of  the  mire  of  schism 
and  heresy,  wherein  your  father's  house  delighted  to  wallow  ; 
aften  also,  nae  doubt,  when  ye  are  pressed  wi'  ensnaring  trials 
and  temptations  and  heart-plagues,  you,  that  are  like  a  recruit 
that  is  marching  for  the  first  time  to  the  took  of  drum,  will 
miss  the  auld,  bauld,  and  experienced  veteran  soldier  that 
has  felt  the  brunt  of  mony  a  foul  day,  and  heard  the  bullets 
whistle  as  aften  as  he  has  hairs  left  on  his  auld  pow." 

It  is  very  possible  that  Butler  might  internally  be  of  opin- 
ion that  the  reflection  on  his  ancestor's  peculiar  tenets  might 
have  been  spared,  or  that  he  might  be  presumptuous  enough 
even  to  think  that,  at  his  years  and  witli  his  own  lights,  he 
must  be  able  to  hold  his  course  without  the  pilotage  of  honest 
David.  But  he  only  replied  by  expressing  his  regret  that 
anything  should  separate  him  from  an  ancient,  tried,  and 
affectionate  friend. 

"  But  how  can  it  be  helped,  man  ?  "  said  David,  twisting 
his  features  into  a  sort  of  smile — ^^how  can  we  help  it  ?  I 
trow  ye  canna  tell  me  that.  Ye  maun  leave  that  to  ither 
folk — to  the  Duke  of  Argyle  and  me,  Eeuben.  It's  a  gude 
thing  to  hae  friends  in  thiswarld  ;  how  muckle  better  to  hae 
an  interest  beyond  it  ! "  And  David,  whose  piety,  though 
not  always  quite  rational,  was  as  sincere  as  it  was  habitual 
and  fervent,  looked  reverentially  upward  and  paused. 

Mr.  Butler  intimated  the  pleasure  with  which  he  would 
receive  his  friend's  advice  on  a  subject  so  important,  and 
David  resumed. 

*'  What  think  ye  now,  Eeuben,  of  a  kirk — a  regular  kirk 
under  the  present  establishment  ?  Were  sic  offered  to  ye, 
wad  ye  be  free  to  accept  it,  and  under  whilk  provisions  ?  I 
am  speaking  but  by  way  of  query." 

Butler  replied,  "  That  if  such  a  prospect  were  held  out 
to  him,  he  would  probably  first  consult  whether  he  was 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  427 

likely  to  be  useful  to  the  parish  he  should  be  called  to  ;  and 
if  there  appeared  a  fair  prospect  of  his  proving  so,  his  friend 
must  be  aware  that,  in  every  other  point  of  view,  it  would 
be  highly  advantageous  for  him." 

"Eight,  Reuben — very  right,  lad,"  answered  the  moni- 
tor, "your  ain  conscience  is  the  first  thing  to  be  satisfied  ; 
for  how  sail  he  teach  others  that  has  himsell  sae  ill  learned 
the  Scriptures  as  to  grip  for  the  lucre  of  foul  earthly  prefer- 
ment, sic  as  gear  and  manse,  money  and  victual,  that  which 
is  not  his  in  a  spiritual  sense  ;  or  wha  makes  his  kirk  a  stalk- 
ing-horse, from  behind  which  he  may  tak  aim  at  his  stipend  ? 
But  1  look  for  better  things  of  you  ;  and  specially  ye  maun 
be  minded  not  to  act  altogether  on  your  ain  judgment,  for 
therethrough  comes  sair  mistakes,  backslidings,  and  defec- 
tions on  the  left  and  on  the  right.  If  there  were  sic  a  day 
of  trial  put  to  you,  Eeuben,  you,  who  are  a  young  lad,  al- 
though it  may  be  ye  are  gifted  wi'  the  carnal  tongues,  and 
those  whilk  were  spoken  at  Rome,  whilk  is  now  the  seat  of 
the  scarlet  abomination,  and  by  the  Greeks,  to  whom  the 
Gospel  was  as  foolishness,  yet  natheless  ye  may  be  entreated 
by  your  weel-wisher  to  take  the  counsel  of  those  prudent 
and  resolved  and  weather-withstanding  professors  wha  hae 
kenn'd  what  it  was  to  lurk  on  banks  and  in  mosses,  in  bogs 
and  in  caverns,  and  to  risk  the  peril  of  the  head  rather  than 
renunce  the  honesty  of  the  heart." 

Butler  replied,  "That  certainly,  possessing  such  a  friend 
as  he  hoped  and  trusted  he  had  in  the  goodman  himself,  who 
had  seen  so  many  changes  in  the  preceding  century,  he 
should  be  much  to  blame  if  he  did  not  avail  himself  of  his 
experience  and  friendly  counsel." 

"Enough  said — enough  said,  Reuben,"  said  David  Deans, 
with  internal  exultation  ;  "and  say  that  ye  were  in  the  pre- 
dicament whereof  I  hae  spoken,  of  a  surety  I  would  deem  it 
my  duty  to  gang  to  the  root  o'  the  matter,  and  lay  bare  to 
you  the  ulcers  and  imjiosthumes,  and  the  sores  and  the  lep- 
rosies, of  this  our  time,  crying  aloud  and  sparing  not." 

David  Deans  was  now  in  his  element.  He  commenced  his 
examination  of  the  doctrines  and  belief  of  the  Christian 
Church  with  the  very  Culdees,  from  whom  he  passed  to  John 
Knox ;  from  John  Knox  to  the  recusants  in  James  the 
Sixth's  time — Bruce,  Black,  Blair,  Livingstone  ;  from  them 
to  the  brief,  and  at  length  triumphant,  period  of  the  Pres- 
byterian Church's  splendor,  until  it  was  overrun  by  the 
English  Independents.  Then  followed  the  dismal  times  of 
Prelacy,  the  indulgences,  seven  in  number,  with  all  their 


428  WA  VERLET  JV  O  VELS 

shades  and  bearings,  until  he  arrived  at  the  reign  of  King 
James  the  Second,  in  which  he  himself  had  been,  in  his  own 
mind,  neither  an  obscure  actor  nor  an  obscure  sufferer. 
Then  was  Butler  doomed  to  hear  the  most  detailed  and  an- 
notated edition  of  what  he  had  so  often  heard  before — 
David  Dean's  confinement,  namely,  in  the  iron  cage  in  the 
Canongate  tolbooth,  and  the  cause  thereof. 

We  should  be  very  unjust  to  our  friend  David  Deans  if 
we  should  "  pretermit,"  to  use  his  own  expression,  a  narra- 
tive which  he  held  essential  to  his  fame.  A  drujiken  trooper 
of  the  Eoyal  Guards,  Francis  Gordon  by  name,  had  chased 
five  or  six  of  the  skulking  Whigs,  among  whom  was  our 
friend  David  ;  and  after  he  had  compelled  them  to  stand, 
and  was  in  the  act  of  brawling  with  them,  one  of  their  num- 
ber fired  a  pocket-pistol  and  shot  him  dead.  David  used 
to  sneer  and  shake  his  head  when  any  one  asked  him  whether 
7ie  had  been  the  instrument  of  removing  this  wicked  per- 
secutor from  the  face  of  the  earth.  In  fact,  the  merit 
of  the  deed  lay  between  him  and  his  friend,  Patrick  Walker, 
the  pedler,  whose  works  he  was  so  fond  of  quoting.  Neither 
of  them  cared  directly  to  claim  the  merit  of  silencing  Mr. 
Francis  Gordon  of  the  Life  Guards,  there  being  some  wild 
cousins  of  his  about  Edinburgh,  who  might  have  been  even 
yet  addicted  to  revenge,  but  yet  neither  of  them  chose  to 
disovv^n  or  yield  to  the  other  the  merit  of  this  active  defense 
of  their  religious  rights.  David  said,  that  if  he  had  fired  a 
pistol  then,  it  was  what  he  never  did  after  or  before.  And  as 
for  Mr.  Patrick  Walker,  he  has  left  it  upon  record  that  his 
great  surprise  was  that  so  small  a  pistol  could  kill  so  big  a 
man.  These  are  the  words  of  that  venerable  biographer, 
whose  trade  had  not  taught  him  by  experience  that  an  inch 
was  as  good  as  an  ell :  *'  He  (Francis  Gordon)  got  a  shot  in 
his  head  out  of  a  pocket-pistol,  rather  fit  for  diverting  a 
boy  than  killing  such  a  furious,  mad,  brisk  man,  which  not- 
withstanding killed  him  dead  !"* 

Upon  the  extensive  foundation  which  the  history  of  the 
kirk  afforded,  during  its  short-lived  triumph  and  long  tribu- 
lation, David,  with  length  of  breath  and  of  narrative  which 
would  have  astounded  any  one  but  a  lover  of  his  daughter, 
proceeded  to  lay  down  his  own  rules  for  guiding  the  con- 
science of  his  friend  as  an  aspirant  to  serve  in  the  ministry. 
Upon  this  subject  the  good  man  went  through  such  a  variety 
of  nice  and  casuistical  problems,  supposed  so  many  extreme 

*  See  Death  of  Francis  Gordon.     Note  35. 


THE  HE  ART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  429 

cases,  made  the  distinctions  so  critical  and  nice  betwixt  the 
right  hand  and  the  left  hand,  betwixt  compliance  and  de- 
fection, holding  back  and  stepping  aside,  slipping  and  stum- 
bling, snares  and  errors,  that  at  length,  after  having  limited 
the  path  of  truth  to  a  mathematical  line,  he  was  brought  to  the 
broad  admission  that  each  man's  conscience,  after  he  had 
gained  a  certain  view  of  the  difficult  navigation  which  he  was 
to  encounter,  would  be  the  best  guide  for  his  pilotage.  He 
stated  the  examples  and  arguments  for  and  against  the  accept- 
ance of  a  kirk  on  the  present  revolution  model  with  much 
more  impartiality  to  Butler  than  he  had  been  able  to  place 
them  before  his  own  view.  And  he  concluded,  that  his  young 
friend  ought  to  think  upon  these  things,  and  be  guided  by 
the  voice  of  his  own  conscience,  whether  he  could  take  such 
an  awful  trust  as  the  charge  of  souls  without  doing  injury 
to  his  own  internal  conviction  of  what  is  right  or  wrong. 

When  David  had  finished  his  very  long  harangue,  which 
was  only  interrupted  by  monosyllables,  or  little  more,  on 
the  part  of  Butler,  the  orator  himself  was  greatly  astonished 
to  find  that  the  conclusion  at  which  he  very  naturally 
wished  to  arrive  seemed  much  less  decisively  attained  than 
when  he  had  argued  the  case  in  his  own  mind. 

In  this  particular  David's  current  of  thinking  and  speak- 
ing only  illustrated  the  very  important  and  general  propo- 
sition concerning  the  excellence  of  the  publicity  of  debate. 
For,  under  the  influence  of  any  partial  feeling,  it  is  certain 
that  most  men  can  more  easily  reconcile  themselves  to  any 
favorite  measure  when  agitating  it  in  their  own  mind  than 
when  obliged  to  expose  its  merits  to  a  third  party,  when 
the  necessity  of  seeming  impartial  procures  from  the  op- 
posite arguments  a  much  more  fair  statement  than  that 
which  he  affords  it  in  tacit  meditation.  Having  finished 
what  he  had  to  say,  David  thought  himself  obliged  to  be 
more  explicit  in  point  of  fact,  and  to  explain  that  this  was 
no  hypothetical  case,  but  one  on  which,  by  his  own  influence 
and  that  of  the  Duke  of  Argyle,  Eeuben  Butler  would  soon 
be  called  to  decide. 

It  was  even  with  something  like  apprehension  that  David 
Deans  heard  Butler  announce,  in  return  to  this  communi- 
cation, that  he  would  take  that  night  to  consider  on  what 
he  had  said  with  such  kind  intentions,  and  return  him  an 
answer  the  next  morning.  The  feelings  of  the  father 
mastered  David  on  this  occasion.  He  pressed  Butler  to 
spend  the  evening  with  him.  He  produced,  most  unusual 
at  his  meals,  one,  nay,  two  bottles  of  aged  strong  ale.     He 


4M  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

gpoke  of  his  daughter — of  her  merits,  her  housewifery,  her 
thrift,  her  affection.  He  led  Butler  so  decidedly  up  to  a 
declaration  of  his  feelings  towards  Jeanie,  that,  before  night- 
fall, it  was  distinctly  understood  she  was  to  be  the  bride  of 
Reuben  Butler  ;  and  if  they  thought  it  indelicate  to  abridge 
the  period  of  deliberation  which  Eeuben  had  stipulated,  it 
seemed  to  be  sufficiently  understood  betwixt  them  that 
there  was  a  strong  probability  of  his  becoming  minister  of 
Knocktarlitie,  providing  the  congregation  were  as  willing 
to  accept  of  him  as  the  Duke  to  grant  him  the  presentation. 
The  matter  of  the  oaths,  they  agreed,  it  was  time  enough 
to  dispute  about  whenever  the  shibboleth  should  be  ten- 
dered. 

Many  arrangements  were  adopted  that  evening,  which 
were  afterwards  ripened  by  correspondence  with  the  Duke 
of  Argyle's  man  of  business,  who  entrusted  Deans  and 
Butler  with  the  benevolent  wish  of  his  principal  that  they 
should  all  meet  with  Jeanie,  on  her  return  from  England, 
at  the  Duke's  hunting-lodge  in  Roseneath. 

This  retrospect,  so  far  as  the  placid  loves  of  Jeanie  Deana 
and  Ruben  Butler  are  concerned,  forms  a  full  explanation 
of  the  preceding  narrative  up  to  their  meeting  on  the  island 
as  already  mentioned. 


CHAPTEE  XLIV 

"  I  come,"  he  said,  "  my  love,  my  life, 
And — nature's  dearest  name — my  wife. 
Thy  father's  house  and  friends  resign, 
My  home,  my  friends,  my  sire,  are  thine." 

Logan. 

The  meeting  of  Jeauie  and  Butler,  under  circnmstancea 
promising  to  crown  an  affection  so  long  delayed,  was  rather 
affecting  from  its  simple  sincerity  than  from  its  uncommom 
vehemence  of  feeling.  David  Deans,  whose  practise  was 
sometimes  a  little  different  from  his  theory,  appalled  them 
at  first  by  giving  them  the  opinion  of  stindry  of  the  suffer* 
ing  preachers  and  champions  of  his  younger  days,  that 
marriage  though  honorable  by  the  laws  of  Scripture,  was 
yet  a  state  over-rashly  coveted  by  professors,  and  specially 
by  young  ministers,  whose  desire,  he  said,  was  at  whiles  too 
inordinate  for  kirks,  stipends,  and  wives,  which  had  fre- 
quently occasioned  over-ready  compliance  with  tlie  general 
defections  of  the  times.  He  endeavored  to  make  them 
aware  also,  that  hasty  wedlock  had  been  the  bane  of  many 
a  savory  professor  ;  that  the  unbelieving  wife  had  too  often 
reversed  the  text,  and  perverted  the  believing  hiisband ; 
that  when  the  famous  Donald  Cargill,  being  then  hiding  in 
Lee  Wood,  in  Lanarkshire,  it  being  '^killing  time,"  did, 
upon  importunity,  marry  Robert  Marshal  of  Starry  Shaw, 
he  had  thus  expressed  himself :  "  What  hath  induced 
Robert  to  marry  this  woman  ?  Her  ill  will  overcome  his 
good  ;  he  will  not  keep  the  way  long  :  his  thriving  days  are 
done."  To  the  sad  accomplishment  of  which  prophecy 
David  said  he  was  himself  a  living  witness,  for  Robert 
Marshal,  having  fallen  into  foul  compliances  with  the  enemy, 
went  home,  and  heard  the  curates,  declined  into  other  steps 
of  defection,  and  became  lightly  esteemed.  Indeed,  he 
observed  that  the  great  upholders  of  the  standard,  Cargill, 
Peden.  Cameron,  and  Renwick,  had  less  delight  in  tying 
the  bonds  of  matrimony  than  in  any  other  piece  of  their 
ministerial  work  ;  and  although  they  would  neither  dissuade 
the  parties  nor  refuse  their  otiice.  they  considered  the  being 
called  to  it  as  an  evidence  of  indifference  on  the  part  of 

^1 


4:32  WAVERLEY  J^OVELS 

those  between  whom  it  was  solemnized  to  the  many  grievons 
things  of  the  day.  Notwitlistanding,  however,  that  mar- 
riage was  a  snare  unto  many,  David  was  of  opinion,  as,  in- 
deed, he  had  showed  in  his  practise,  "that  it  was  in  itself 
honorable,  especially  if  times  were  such  that  honest  men 
could  be  secure  against  being  shot,  hanged,  or  banished, 
and  had  ane  competent  livelihood  to  maintain  themselves 
and  those  that  might  come  after  them.  And,  therefore,'' 
as  he  concluded  something  abruptly,  addressing  Jeanie  and 
Butler,  who,  with  faces  as  high-colored  as  crimson,  had 
been  listening  to  his  lengthened  argument  for  and  against 
the  holy  state  of  matrimony,  "I  will  leave  ye  to  your  ain 
cracks.'' 

As  their  private  conversation,  however  interesting  to 
themselves,  might  probably  be  very  little  so  to  the  reader, 
so  far  as  it  respected  their  present  feelings  and  future  pros- 
pects, we  shall  pass  it  over,  and  only  mention  the  infor- 
mation which  Jeanie  received  from  Butler  concerning  her 
sister's  elopement,  which  contained  many  particulars  that 
she  had  been  unable  to  extract  from  her  father. 

Jeanie  learned,  therefore,  that  for  three  days,  after  her 
pardon  had  arrived,  Efhe  had  been  the  inmate  of  her  father's 
house  at  St.  Leonard's  ;  that  the  interviews  betwixt  David 
and  his  erring  child  which  had  taken  place  before  she  was 
liberated  from  prison  had  been  touching  in  the  extreme  ; 
but  Butler  could  not  suppress  his  opinion  that,  when  he 
was  freed  from  the  apprehension  of  losing  her  in  a  manner 
so  horrible,  her  father  had  tightened  the  bands  of  disci- 
pline, so  as,  in  some  degree,  to  gall  the  feelings  and  ag- 
gravate the  irritability  of  a  spirit  naturally  impatient  and 
petulant,  and  now  doubly  so  from  the  sense  of  merited 
disgrace. 

On  the  third  night,  Efhe  disappeared  from  St.  Leonard's 
leaving  no  information  whatever  of  the  route  she  had  taken. 
Butler,  however,  set  out  in  pursuit  of  her,  and  with  much 
trouble  traced  her  towards  a  little  landing-place,  formed 
by  a  small  brook  which  enters  the  sea  betwixt  Musselburgh 
and  Edinburgh.  This  place,  which  has  been  since  made 
into  a  small  harbor,  surrounded  by  many  villas  and  lodging- 
houses,  is  now  termed  Portobello.  At  this  time  it  was  sur- 
rounded by  a  waste  common,  covered  with  firs,  and  unfre- 
quented, save  by  fishing  boats,  and  now  and  then  a  smuggling 
lugger.  A  vessel  of  this  description  had  been  hovering  in 
the  firth  at  the  time  of  Effie's  elopement,  and,  as  Butler 
ascertained,  a  boat  had  come  ashore  in  the  evening  on  which 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  433, 

the  fugitive  had  disappeared,  and  had  carried  on  board  a 
female.  As  the  vessel  made  sail  immediately,  and  landed 
no  part  of  their  cargo,  there  seemed  little  doubt  tliat  they 
were  accomplices  of  the  notorious  Robertson,  and  that  the 
vessel  had  only  come  into  tlie  Firth  to  carry  off  his  paramour. 
This  was  made  clear  by  a  letter  which  Butler  himself  soon 
afterwards  received  by  post,  signed  "E.  D.,"  but  without 
bearing  any  date  of  place  or  time.  It  was  miserably  ill 
written  and  spelt ;  sea  sickness  having  apparently  aided  the 
derangement  of  Effie's  very  irregular  orthography  and  mode 
of  expression.  In  this  epistle,  however,  as  in  all  that  that 
unfortunate  girl  said  or  clid,  there  was  something  to  praise 
as  well  as  to  blame.  She  said  in  her  letter.  "  That  she 
could  not  endure  that  her  father  and  her  sister  should  go 
into  banishment,  or  be  partakers  of  her  shame  ;  that  if  her 
burden  was  a  heavy  one,  it  was  of  her  own  binding,  and  she 
had  the  more  right  to  bear  it  alone  ;  that  in  future  they 
could  not  be  a  comfort  to  her,  or  she  to  them,  since  every 
look  and  word  of  her  father  put  her  in  mind  of  her  trans« 
gression,  and  was  like  to  drive  her  mad  ;  that  she  had  nearly 
lost  her  judgment  during  the  three  days  she  was  at  St. 
Leonard's:  her  father  meant  weel  by  her,  and  all  men,  but 
he  did  not  know  the  dreadful  pain  he  gave  her  in  casting 
up  her  sins.  If  Jeanie  had  been  at  hame,  it  might  hae  dune 
better  ;  Jeanie  was  ane,  like  the  angels  in  heaven,  that 
rather  weep  for  sinners  than  reckon  their  transgressions. 
But  she  should  never  see  Jeanie  ony  mair,  and  that  was  the 
thought  that  gave  her  the  sairest  heart  of  a'  that  had  come 
and  gane  yet.  On  her  bended  knees  would  she  pray  for 
Jeanie,  night  and  day,  baith  for  what  she  had  done  and 
what  she  had  scorned  to  do  in  her  behalf ;  for  what  a 
thought  would  it  have  been  to  her  at  that  moment  o'  time, 
if  tliat  upright  creature  had  made  a  fault  to  save  her  !  She 
desired  her  father  would  give  Jeanie  a'  the  gear — her  ain 
(L  e.  Effie's)  mother's  and  a'.  She  had  made  a  deed  giving 
•up  her  right,  and  it  was  in  Mr.  jS'ovit's  hand.  Warld's  gear 
was  henceforward  the  least  of  her  care,  nor  was  it  likely  to 
be  muckle  her  mister."  She  hoped  this  would  make  it  easy 
for  her  sister  to  settle  ;  "  and  immediately  after  this  expres- 
sion, she  wislied  Butler  himself  all  good  things,  in  return  for 
his  kindness  to  her.  "  For  herself."  she  said,"  she  kenn'd  her 
lot  would  be  a  waesome  ane,  but  it  was  of  her  own  framing,  sae 
ghe  desired  the  less  pity.  But,  for  her  friends'  satisfaction, 
(slie  wished  them  to  know  that  she  was  gaun  nae  ill  gate  ; 
that  they  who  had  done  her  maist  wrong  -were  now  willing 


434  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

to  do  her  what  Justice  was  in  their  power  ;  and  she  would, 
in  some  warldly  respects,  be  far  better  off  than  she  deserved. 
But  she  desired  her  family  to  remain  satisfied  with  this  as- 
surance, and  give  themselves  no  trouble  in  making  further 
inquiries  after  her." 

To  David  Deans  and  to  Butler  this  letter  gave  very  little 
comfort ;  for  what  was  to  be  expected  from  this  unfortunate 
girFs  uniting  her  fate  to  that  of  a  character  so  notorious  as 
Eobertson,  who  they  readily  guessed  was  alluded  to  in  the 
last  sentence,  excepting  that  she  should  become  the  partner 
and  victim  of  his  future  crimes  ?  Jeanie,  who  knew  George 
Staunton's  character  and  real  rank,  saw  her  sister's  situation 
under  a  ray  of  better  hope.  She  augured  well  of  the  haste 
he  had  shown  to  reclaim  his  interest  in  Effie,  and  she  trusted 
he  had  made  her  his  wife.  If  so,  it  seemed  improbable  that, 
with  his  expected  fortune  and  high  connections,  he  should 
again  resume  the  life  of  criminal  adventure  which  he  had 
led,  especially  since,  as  matters  stood,  his  life  depended 
upon  his  keeping  his  own  secret,  which  could  only  be  done 
by  an  entire  change  of  his  habits,  and  particularly  by  avoid- 
ing all  those  who  had  known  the  heir  of  Willingham  under 
the  character  of  the  audacious,  criminal,  and  condemned 
Eobertson. 

She  thought  it  most  likely  that  the  couple  would  go  abroad 
for  a  few  years,  and  not  return  to  England  until  the  affair 
of  Porteous  was  totally  forgotten.  Jeanie,  therefore,  saw 
more  hopes  for  her  sister  than  Butler  or  her  father  had  been 
able  to  perceive  ;  but  she  was  not  at  liberty  to  impart  the 
comfort  which  she  felt  in  believing  that  she  would  be  secure 
from  the  pressure  of  poverty,  and  in  little  risk  of  being 
seduced  into  the  paths  of  guilt.  She  could  not  have  ex- 
plained this  without  making  public  what  it  was  essentially 
necessary  for  Effie's  chance  of  comfort  to  conceal,  the 
identity,  namely,  of  George  Staunton  and  George  Eobertson. 
After  all,  it  was  dreadful  to  think  that  Effie  had  united 
herself  to  a  man  condemned  for  felony,  and  liable  to  trial 
for  murder,  whatever  might  be  his  rank  in  life,  and  the 
degree  of  his  repentance.  Besides,  it  was  melancholy  to 
reflect  that,  she  herself  being  in  possession  of  the  whole 
dreadful  secret,  it  was  most  probable  he  would,  out  of  regard 
to  his  own  feelings  and  fear  for  his  safety,  never  again  permit 
her  to  see  poor  Effie.  After  perusing  and  re-perusing  her 
sister's  valedictory  letter,  she  gave  ease  to  her  feelings  in  a 
flood  of  tears,  which  Butler  in  vain  endeavored  to  check  by 
every  soothing  attention  in  his  power.     She  was  obliged, 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  435 

however,  at  length  to  look  up  and  wipe  her  eyes,  for  her 
father,  thinking  he  had  allowed  the  lovers  time  enough  for 
conference,  was  now  advancing  towards  them  from  the 
Lodge,  accompanied  by  the  Captain  of  Knockdunder,  or,  as 
his  friends  called  hiin  for  brevity's  sake,  Duncan  Knock,  a 
title  which  some  youthful  exploits  had  rendered  peculiarly 
appropriate. 

This  Duncan  of  Knockdunder  was  a  person  of  first-rate 
'mportance  in  tiie  island  *  of  Roseneath  and  the  continental 
parishes  of  Knocktarlitie,  Kilmun,  and  so  forth  ;  nay,  his 
influence  extended  as  far  as  Cowall,  where,  however,  it  was 
obscured  by  that  of  another  factor.  The  Tower  of  Knock- 
dunder still  occupies,  with  its  remains,  a  cliff  overhanging 
the  Holy  Loch.  Duncan  swore  it  had  been  a  royal  castle  ; 
if  so,  it  was  one  of  the  smallest,  tlie  space  within  only  form- 
ing a  square  of  sixteen  feet,  and  bearing  therefore  a  ridi- 
culous proportion  to  tlie  thickness  of  the  walls,  which  was 
ten  feet  at  least.  Such  as  it  was,  however,  it  liad  long  given 
the  title  of  Captain,  equivalent  to  that  of  Chatelain,  to  the 
ancestors  of  Duncan,  who  were  retainers  of  the  house  of 
Argyle,  and  held  a  hereditary  jurisdiction  under  them,  of 
little  extent  indeed,  but  which  had  great  consequence  in 
their  own  eyes,  and  was  usually  administered  with  a  vigoi 
somewhat  beyond  the  law. 

The  present  representative  of  that  ancient  family  Avas  a 
stout  short  man  about  fifty,  whose  pleasure  it  was  to  unite 
in  his  own  person  the  dress  of  the  Highlands  and  Low- 
lands, wearing  on  his  head  a  black  tie-wig,  surmounted 
by  a  fierce  cocked  hat,  deeply  guarded  with  gold  lace, 
while  the  rest  of  his  dress  consisted  of  the  plaid  and  phil- 
abeg.  Duncan  superintended  a  district  which  was  partly 
Highland,  partly  Lowland,  and  therefore  might  be  supposed 
to  combine  their  national  habits,  in  order  to  show  his  im- 
partiality to  Trojan  or  Tyrian.  The  iucongruity,  however, 
had  a  wliimsical  and  ludicrous  effect,  as  it  made  his  head 
and  body  look  as  if  belonging  to  different  individuals  ;  or, 
as  some  one  said  who  had  seen  the  executions  of  the  insur- 
gent prisoners  in  1?15,  it  seemed  as  if  some  Jacobite  en- 
chanter, having  recalled  the  sufferers  to  life,  had  clapped, 
in  his  haste,  an  Englishman's  head  on  a  Highlander's  body. 
To  finish  the  portrait,  the  bearing  of  the  gracious  Duncan 
was  brief,  bluff,  and  consequential,  and  the  upward  turn  of 
his  short  copper-colored  nose  indicated  that  he  was  some- 
what addicted  to  wrath  and  usquebaugh. 

*  This  is,  more  correctly  speaking,  a  peninsula  (Laing), 


ia6  WA  VERLE Y  NO VELS 

When  this  dignitary  had  advanced  np  to  Butler  ana  to 
Jeanie,  "I  take  the  freedom,  Mr.  Deans/'  he  said,  in  a 
very  consequential  manner,  "  to  salute  your  daughter,  whilk 
I  presume  this  young  lass  to  be.  I  kiss  every  pretty  girl 
that  comes  to  Roseneath,  in  virtue  of  my  office.'"  Having 
made  this  gallant  speech,  he  took  out  his  quid,  saluted 
Jeanie  with  a  hearty  smack,  and  bade  her  welcome  to 
Argyle's  country.  Then  addressing  Butler,  he  said,  '*  Ye 
maun  gang  ower  and  meet  the  carle  ministers  yonder  the 
morn,  for  they  will  want  to  do  your  job  ;  and  synd  it  down 
with  usquebaugh  doubtless  :  they  seldom  make  dry  wark  in 
this  kintra." 

"And  the  Laird "  said  David  Deans,  addressing  But- 
ler in  further  explanation. 

"The  Captain,  man,''  interrupted  Duncan  ;  "  folk  winna 
ken  wha  ye  are  speaking  aboot,  unless  ye  gie  shentlemens 
their  proper  title." 

"The  Captain,  then,"  said  David,  ''assures  me  that  the 
call  is  unanimous  on  the  part  of  the  parishioners — a  real 
harmonious  call,  Reuben." 

"I  pelieve,"  said  Duncan,  "it  was  as  harmonious  as 
could  pe  expected,  when  the  tae  half  o'  the  bodies  were 
clavering  Sassenach  and  the  t'other  skirling  Gaelic,  like 
sea-maws  and  clack-geese  before  a  storm.  Ane  wad  hae 
needed  the  gift  of  tongues  to  ken  preceesely  what  they  said  ; 
but  I  pelieve  the  best  end  of  it  was,  '  Long  live  MacCal- 
lummore  and  Knockdunder ! '  And  as  to  its  being  an 
unanimous  call,  I  wad  be  glad  to  ken  fat  business  the 
carles  have  to  call  ony  thing  or  ony  body  but  what  the 
Duke  and  mysell  likes  !  " 

"  Nevertheless,"  said  Mr.  Butler,  "if  any  of  the  parish- 
ioners have  any  scruples,  which  sometimes  happens  in  the 
mind  of  sincere  professors,  I  should  be  happy  of  an  op- 
portunity of  trying  to  remove " 

"  Never  fash  your  peard  about  it,  man,"  interrupted  Dun- 
can Knock.  "  Leave  it  a'  to  me.  Scruple  !  deil  ane  o' 
them  has  been  bred  up  to  scruple  ony  thing  that  they're 
bidden  to  do.  And  if  sic  a  thing  suld  happen  as  ye  speak 
o',  ye  sail  see  the  sincere  professor,  as  ye  ca'  him,  towed  at 
the  stern  of  my  boat  for  a  few  furlongs.  I'll  try  if  the 
water  of  the  Haly  Loch  winna  wash  olf  scruples  as  weel  as 
fleas.     Cot  tarn ! " 

The  rest  of  Duncan's  threats  was  lost  in  a  growling 
gurgling  sort  of  sound  which  he  made  in  his  throat,  and 
which  menaced  recusants  with  no  gentle  means  of  conver' 


TEE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  487 

Bion.  David  Deans  would  certainly  have  given  battle  in 
defence  of  the  right  of  the  Christian  congregation  to  be  con- 
sulted in  the  choice  of  their  own  pastor,  wliich,  in  his  esti- 
mation, was  one  of  the  choicest  and  most  inalienable  of 
their  privileges  ;  but  he  had  again  engaged  in  close  conver- 
sation with  Jeanie,  and,  with  more  interest  than  he  was  in 
use  to  take  in  affairs  foreign  alike  to  his  occupation  and  to 
his  religious  tenets,  was  inquiring  into  the  particulars  of  her 
London  journey.  This  was,  perhaps,  fortunate  for  the 
new-formed  friendship  betwixt  him  and  the  Captain  of 
Knockdunder,  which  rested,  in  David's  estimation,  upon 
the  proofs  he  had  given  of  his  skill  in  managing  stock  ;  but, 
in  reality,  upon  the  special  charge  transmitted  to  Duncan 
from  the  Duke  and  his  agent  to  behave  with  the  utmost 
attention  to  Deans  and  his  family. 

"  And  now,  sirs,"  said  Duncan,  in  a  commanding  tone, 
*'  I  am  to  pray  ye  a'  to  come  in  to  your  supper,  for  yonder 
is  Mr.  Archibald  half  famished,  and  a  Saxon  woman,  that 
looks  as  if  her  een  were  fleeing  out  o'  her  head  wi'  fear  and 
wonder,  as  if  she  had  never  seen  a  shentleman  in  a  philabeg 
pefore." 

"  And  Reuben  Butler,"  said  David,  "  will  doubtless  de- 
sire instantly  to  retire,  that  he  may  prepare  his  mind  for  the 
exercise  of  to-morrow,  that  his  work  may  suit  the  day,  and 
be  an  offering  of  a  sweet  savor  in  the  nostrils  of  the  rev- 
erend presbytery." 

"  Hout  tout,  man,  it's  but  little  ye  ken  about  them,"  in- 
terrupted the  Captain.  "  Teil  a  ane  o'  them  wad  gie  the 
s:ivor  of  the  hot  venison  pasty  which  I  smell  (turning  his 
squad  nose  up  in  the  air)  a'  the  Avay  frae  the  Lodge,  for  a* 
that  Mr.  Putler,  or  you  either,  can  say  to  them." 

David  groaned  ;  but  judging  he  had  to  do  with  a  Gallio, 
as  he  said,  did  not  think  it  worth  his  while  to  give  battle. 
They  followed  the  Captain  to  the  house,  and  arranged  them- 
selves with  great  ceremony  round  a  well-loaded  supper-table. 
The  only  other  circumstance  of  the  evening  worthy  to  be 
recorded  is,  that  Butler  pronounced  the  blessing  ;  that 
Knockdunder  found  it  too  long,  and  David  Deans  censured 
it  as  too  sliort  ;  from  which  the  charitable  reader  may  con- 
clude it  was  exactly  the  proper  length. 


CHAPTEE  XliV. 

Now  turn  the  Psalms  of  David  owee 

And  lilt  wi'  holy  clangor  ; 
Of  double  verse  come  gie  us  four 
And  skirl  up  the  Bangor. 

Burns. 

The  next  was  the  importaut  day  when,  according  to  the 
forms  of  ritual  of  the  Scottish  Kirk,  Reuben  Butler  was  to 
be  ordained  minister  of  Knocktarlitie  by  the  presbytery 
of .  And  so  eager  were  the  whole  party,  that  all,  except- 
ing Mrs.  Dutton,  the  destined  Cowslip  of  Inverary,  were 
stirring  at  an  early  hour. 

Their  host,  Avhose  appetite  was  as  quick  and  keen  as  his 
temper,  Avas  not  long  in  summoning  them  to  a  substantial 
breakfast,  where  there  were  at  least  a  dozen  of  different 
preparations  of  milk,  plenty  of  cold  meat,  scores  boiled  and 
roasted  eggs,  a  huge  cag  of  butter,  half  a  firkin  herrings 
boiled  and  broiled,  fresh  and  salt,  and  tea  and  coffee  for 
them  that  liked  it,  which,  as  their  landlord  assured  them, 
with  a  nod  and  a  wink,  pointing  at  the  same  time  to  a  little 
cutter  which  seemed  dodging  under  the  lee  of  the  island, 
cost  them  little  beside  the  fetching  ashore. 

'"  Is  the  contraband  trade  permitted  here  so  openly  ? " 
said  Butler.  ''I  should  think  it  very  unfavorable  to  the 
people's  morals." 

"  The  Duke,  Mr.  Putler,  has  gieu  nae  orders  concerning 
the  putting  of  it  down,"  said  the  magistrate,  and  seemed  to 
think  that  he  had  said  all  that  was  necessary  to  justify  his 
connivance. 

Butler  was  a  man  of  prudence,  and  aware  that  real  good 
can  only  be  obtained  by  remonstrance  when  remonstrance  is 
well-timed  ;  so  for  the  present  he  said  nothing  more  on  the 
subject. 

When  breakfast  was  half  over,  in  flounced  Mrs.  Dolly,  as 
fine  as  a  blue  sacque  and  cherry-colored  ribbons  could  make 
her. 

"  Good  morrow  to  you,  madam,"  said  the  master  of  cere- 
monies ;  ''I  trust  your  early  rising  will  not  scaitli  ye." 

The  dame  apologized  to  Captain  Knockunder,  as  she  waa 

438 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  43% 

pleased  to  term  their  entertainer ;  "  but,  as  we  say  in 
Clieshire,"  she  added,  "1  was  like  the  mayor  of  Altringliani, 
who  lies  in  bed  while  his  breeches  are  mending,  for  the  girl 
did  not  bring  up  the  right  bundle  to  my  room  till  she  had 
brougiit  up  all  the  others  by  mistake  one  after  t'other. 
Well,  I  suppose  we  are  all  for  church  to-day,  as  I  under- 
stand. Pray  may  I  be  so  bold  as  to  ask  if  it  Is  the  fashion 
for  you  North-Country  gentlemen  to  go  to  church  in  your 
oetticoats.  Captain  Knockunder  I " 

"Captain  of  Knockdunder,  madam,  if  you  please,  for  I 
knock  under  to  no  man  ;  and  in  respect  of  my  garb,  I  shall 
go  to  church  as  I  am,  at  your  service,  madam  ;  for  if  I  were 
to  lie  in  bed,  like  yonr  Major  What-d'ye-callum,  till  my 
breeches  were  mended,  I  might  be  there  all  my  life,  see  ing 
I  never  had  a  pair  of  them  on  my  person  but  twice  in  my 
life,  which  I  am  pound  to  remember,  it  peing  when  the  Duke 
brought  his  Duchess  here,  when  her  Grace  pehoved  to  be 
pleasured  ;  so  I  e'en  porrowed  the  minister's  trews  for  the 
twa  days  his  Grace  was  pleased  to  stay  ;  but  I  will  put  my- 
self under  sic  confinement  again  for  no  man  on  earth,  or 
woman  either,  but  her  Grace  being  always  excepted,  as  in 
duty  pound." 

The  mistress  of  the  milking-pail  stared,  but,  making  no 
answer  to  this  round  declaration,  immediately  proceeded  to 
show  that  the  alarm  of  the  preceding  evening  had  in  no 
degree  injured  her  appetite. 

XVhen  the  meal  was  finished,  the  Captain  proposed  to 
them  to  take  boat,  in  order  that  Mistress  Jeanie  might  see 
her  new  place  of  residence,  and  that  he  himself  might  in- 
quire whether  the  necessary  preparations  had  been  made 
there  and  at  the  manse  for  receiving  the  future  inmates 
of  these  mansions. 

The  morning  was  deliglitful,  and  the  huge  mountain- 
shadows  slept  upon  the  mirrored  wave  of  the  firth,  almost 
as  little  disturbed  as  if  it  had  been  an  inland  lake.  Even 
Mrs.  Dutton's  fears  no  longer  annoyed  her.  She  had  been 
informed  by  Archibald  that  there  was  to  be  some  sort  of 
junketting  after  the  sermon,  and  that  was  what  she  loved 
dearly  ;  and  as  for  the  water,  it  was  so  still  that  it  would 
look  quite  like  a  pleasuring  on  the  Thames. 

The  whole  party  being  embarked,  therefore,  in  a  large 
boat,  which  the  Captain  called  his  coach  and  six,  and 
attended  by  a  smaller  one  termed  his  gig,  the  gallant  Dun- 
can steered  straight  upon  the  little  tower  of  the  old-fashioned 
church  of   Knocktarlitie,  and  the  exertions  of   six   stout 


440  WAV ERLEY  NOVELS 

rowers  sped  them  rapidly  on  their  voyage.  As  they  neared 
the  laud,  the  hills  appeared  to  recede  from  them,  and  a  little 
valley,  formed  by  the  descent  of  a  small  river  from  the 
mountains,  evolved  itself  as  it  were  upon  their  approach. 
The  style  of  the  country  on  each  side  was  simply  pastoral, 
and  resembled,  in  appearance  and  character,  the  descripticn 
of  a  forgotten  Scottish  poet,  which  runs  nearly  thus  : — 

The  water  gently  down  a  level  slid, 
With  little  din,  but  couthy  what  it  made ; 
On  ilka  side  the  trees  grew  thick  and  lang, 
And  wi'  the  wild  birds'  notes  were  a'  in  sang ; 
On  either  side,  a  full  bow-shot  and  mair, 
The  green  was  even,  gowany,  and  fair  ; 
With  eas3^  slope  on  every  hand  tlie  braes 
To  the  hills'  feet  with  scattered  bushes  raise  ; 
With  goats  and  sheep  aboon,  and  kye  below, 
The  bonny  banks  all  in  a  swarm  did  go.  * 

They  landed  in  this  Highland  Arcadia,  at  the  mouth  of 
the  small  stream  which  watered  the  delightful  and  peaceable 
valley.  Inhabitants  of  several  descriptions  came  to  pay  their 
respects  to  the  Captain  of  Knockdunder,  a  homage  which 
he  was  very  peremptory  in  exacting,  and  to  see  the  new  set- 
tlers. Some  of  these  were  men  after  David  Deans's  own  heart, 
elders  of  the  kirk-session,  zealous  professors,  from  the  Len- 
nox, Lanarkshire,  and  Ayrshire,  to  whom  the  preceding 
Duke  of  Argyle  had  given  "rooms"  in  this  corner  of  his 
estate,  because  they  had  suffered  for  joining  his  father,  the 
unfortunate  Earl,  during  his  ill-fated  attempt  in  1686. 
These  were  cakes  of  the  right  leaven  for  David  regaling  him- 
self with  ;  and,  had  it  not  been  for  this  circumstance,  he 
has  been  heard  to  say,  "  that  the  Captain  of  Knockdunder 
would  have  sworu  him  out  of  the  country  in  twenty- four 
hours,  sae  awsome  it  was  to  ony  thinking  soul  to  hear  his 
imprecations,  upon  the  slightest  temptation  that  crossed  his 
humor." 

Besides  these,  there  were  a  wilder  set  of  parishioners, 
mountaineers  from  the  upper  glen  and  adjacent  hill,  who 
spoke  Gaelic,  went  about  armed,  and  wore  the  Highland 
dress.  But  the  strict  commands  of  the  Duke  had  estab- 
lished such  good  order  in  this  part  of  his  territories,  that 
the  Gael  and  Saxons  lived  upon  the  best  possible  terms  of 
good  neighborhood. 

They  first  visited  the  manse,  as  the  parsonage  is  termed 
in   Scotland.     It  was  old,  but  in    good    repair,  and  stood 

*  Ross's  Fortunate  Shepherdess.     Edit.  1778,  p.  98. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  441 

snugly  embosomed  in  a  grove  of  sycamore,  with  a  well- 
stocked  garden  in  front,  bounded  by  the  small  river,  which 
was  partly  visible  from  the  windows,  partly  concealed  by 
the  bushes,  trees,  and  bounding  hedge.  Within,  the  house 
looked  less  comfortable  than  it  might  have  been,  for  it  had 
been  neglected  by  the  late  incumbent ;  but  workmen  had 
been  laboring  under  the  directions  of  the  Captain  of 
Knockdunder,  and  at  the  expense  of  the  Duke  of  Argyle, 
to  put  it  into  some  order.  The  old  "  plenishing"  liad  been 
removed,  and  neat  but  plain  household  furniture  had  been 
sent  down  by  the  Duke  in  a  brig  of  his  own,  culled  the 
*'  Caroline,"  and  was  now  ready  to  be  placed  in  order  in 
the  apartments. 

Tlie  gracious  Duncan,  finding  matters  were  at  a  stand 
among  the  workmen,  summoned  before  him  the  delin- 
quents, and  impressed  all  who  heard  him  v/ith  a  sense  of 
his  authority  by  the  penalties  with  which  he  threatened 
them  for  their  delay.  Mulcting  them  in  half  their  charge, 
he  assured  them,  would  be  the  least  of  it;  for,  if  they  were 
to  neglect  his  pleasure  and  the  Duke's,  "he  would  be 
tamn'd  if  he  paid  them  the  t'other  half  either,  and  they 
miglit  seek  law  for  it  where  they  could  get  it,"  The  work- 
people humbled  themselves  before  the  offended  dignitary, 
jind  spake  him  soft  and  fair  ;  and  at  length,  upon  Mr. 
Butler  recalling  to  his  mind  that  it  was  the  ordination-day, 
and  that  the  workmen  were  probably  thinking  of  going  to 
church.  Knockdunder  agreed  to  forgive  them,  out  of  re- 
spect to  their  new  minister. 

"But  an  I  catch  them  neglecting  my  duty  again,  Mr. 
Putler,  the  teil  pe  in  me  if  the  kirk  shall  be  an  excuse  ;  for 
what  has  the  like  o'  them  rapparees  to  do  at  the  kirk  ony 
day  put  Sundays,  or  then  either,  if  the  Duke  and  I  has  the 
necessitous  uses  for  them  ?  " 

It  may  be  guessed  with  what  feelings  of  quiet  satisfaction 
and  delight  Butler  looked  forward  to  spending  his  days, 
honored  and  useful  as  he  trusted  to  be,  in  this  sequestered 
valley,  and  how  often  an  intelligent  glance  was  exchanged 
betwixt  him  and  Jeanie,  whose  good-humored  face  looked 
positively  handsome,  from  the  expression  of  modesty,  and 
at  the  same  time  of  satisfaction,  wliich  she  wore  when  visit- 
ing the  apartments  of  Avhich  she  was  soon  to  call  herself 
mistress.  She  was  left  at  liberty  to  give  more  o])en  indul- 
gence to  her  feelings  of  delight  and  admiration  when, 
leaving  the  manse,  the  company  proceeded  to  examine  the 
destined  habitation  of  David  Deans. 


442  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

Jeanie  found  with  pleasure  that  it  was  not  above  a 
mnsket-shot  from  the  manse  ;  for  it  had  been  a  bar  to  her 
happiness  to  think  she  might  be  obliged  to  reside  at  a  dis- 
tance from  her  father,  and  she  was  aware  that  there  were 
strong  objections  to  his  actually  living  in  the  same  house 
with  Butler.  But  this  brief  distance  was  the  very  thing 
which  she  could  have  wished. 

The  farm-house  was  on  the  plan  of  an  improved  cottage, 
and  contrived  with  great  regard  to  convenience  ;  an  excel- 
lent little  garden,  an  orchard,  and  a  set  of  offices  complete, 
according  to  the  best  ideas  of  the  time,  combined  to  render 
it  a  most  desirable  habitation  for  the  practical  farmer,  and 
far  superior  to  the  hovel  at  Woodend  and  the  small  house 
at  St  Leonard's  Crags.  The  situation  was  considerably 
higher  than  that  of  the  manse,  and  fronted  to  the  west. 
The  windows  commanded  an  enchanting  view  of  the  little 
vale  over  which  the  mansion  seemed  to  jireside,  the  wind- 
ings of  the  stream,  and  the  firth,  with  its  associated  lakes 
and  romantic  islands.  The  hills  of  Dunbartonshire,  once 
possessed  by  the  fierce  clan  of  MacFarlanes,  formed  a  cres- 
cent behind  the  valley,  and  far  to  the  right  were  seen  the 
dusky  and  more  gigantic  mountains  of  Argyleshire,  with 
a  seaward  view  of  the  shattered  and  thunder-splitten  peaks 
of  Arran. 

But  to  Jeanie,  Avhose  taste  for  the  picturesque,  if  she  had 
any  by  nature,  had  never  been  awakened  or  cultivated,  the 
sight  of  the  faithful  old  May  Hettly,  as  she  opened  the 
door  to  receive  them  in  her  clean  toy.  Sunday's  russet-gown, 
and  blue  apron,  nicely  smoothed  down  before  her,  was 
worth  the  whole  varied  landscape.  The  raptures  of  the 
faithful  old  creature  at  seeing  Jeanie  were  equal  to  her  own, 
as  she  hastened  to  assure  her  **that  baith  the  gudeman 
and  the  beasts  had  been  as  weel  seen  after  as  she  possibly 
could  contrive.'*  Separating  her  from  the  rest  of  the  com- 
pany. May  then  hurried  her  young  mistress  to  the  offices, 
that  she  might  receive  the  compliments  she  expected  for 
her  care  of  the  cows.  Jeanie  rejoiced,  in  the  simplicity  of 
her  heart,  to  see  her  charge  once  more  ;  and  the  mute  fa- 
vorites of  our  heroine,  Gowans  and  the  others,  acknowl- 
edged her  presence  by  lowing,  turning  roand  their  broad 
and  decent  brows  when  they  heard  her  well-known  '  Pruh, 
my  leddy — pruh,  my  woman,"  and  by  various  indications, 
known  only  to  those  who  have  studied  the  habits  of  the 
milky  mothers  showing  sensible  pleasure  as  she  approached 
to  caress  them  in  their  turn. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  443 

"  The  very  brute  beasts  are  glad  to  see  ye  again/'  said 
May;  "but  nae  wonder,  Jeanie,  for  ye  were  aye  kind 
to  beast  and  body.  And  I  maun  learn  to  ca'  ye  mistress 
now,  Jeanie,  since  ye  hae  been  up  to  Lunnon,  and  seen  the 
Duke,  and  the  King,  and  a'  the  braw  folk.  But  wha  kens,"' 
added  the  old  dame  slyly,  "  what  I'll  hae  to  ca'  ye  forbye 
mistress,  for  I  am  thinking  it  wunna  laiig  be  Deans." 

"  Ca '  me  your  ain  Jeanie,  May,  and  then  ye  can  never 
gang  wrang.'' 

In  the  cow-house  which  they  examined  there  was  one 
animal  which  Jeanie  looked  at  till  the  tears  gushed  from  her 
eyes.  May,  who  had  watched  her  with  a  sympathizing 
expression,  immediately  observed,  in  an  undertone,  "  The 
gudeman  aye  sorts  that  beast  himsell,  and  is  kinder  to  it 
than  ony  beast  in  the  byre  ;  and  T  noticed  he  was  that  way 
e'en  when  he  was  angriest,  and  had  maist  cause  to  be  angry. 
Eh,  sirs  !  a  parent's  heart's  a  queer  thing  !  Mony  a  warsle 
he  has  had  for  that  puir  lassie.  I  am  thinking  he  petitions 
mair  for  her  than  for  yoursell,  hinny  ;  for  what  can  he  plead 
for  you  but  just  to  wish  you  the  blessing  ye  deserve  ?  And 
when  I  sleepit  ayont  the  hallan,  when  we  came  first  here,  he 
was  often  earnest  a'  night,  and  I  could  hear  him  come  ower 
and  ower  again  wi', '  Effie — puir  blinded  misguided  thing  ! '  it 
was  aye  '  Effie  !  Effie  ! '  If  that  puir  wandering  lamb  comena 
into  the  sheepfauld  in  the  Shepherd's  ain  time,  it  will  be  an 
unco  wonder,  for  I  wot  she  has  been  a  child  of  prayers.  0, 
if  the  puir  prodigal  wad  return,  sae  blithely  as  the  goodman 
wad  kill  the  fatted  calf  ! — though  Brockie's  calf  will  no  be 
fit  for  killing  this  three  weeks  yet." 

And  then,  with  the  discursive  talent  of  persons  of  her  de- 
scription, she  got  once  more  alloat  in  her  account  of  domestic 
affairs,  and  left  this  delicate  and  affecting  topic. 

Having  looked  at  everything  in  the  offices  and  the  dairy, 
and  expressed  her  satisfaction  with  the  manner  in  which 
matters  had  been  managed  in  her  absence,  Jeanie  rejoined 
the  rest  of  the  party,  who  were  surveying  the  interior  of  the 
house,  all  excepting  David  Deans  and  Butler,  who  had  gone 
down  to  the  church  to  meet  the  kirk-session  and  the  clergy- 
men of  the  presbytery,  and  arrange  matters  for  the  duty  of 
the  day. 

In  the  interior  of  the  cottage  all  was  clean,  neat,  and 
suitable  to  the  exterior.  It  had  been  originally  built  and 
furnished  by  the  Duke  as  a  retreat  for  a  favorite  domestic  of 
the  higher  class,  who  did  not  long  enjoy  it,  and  had  been 
dead  only  a  few  months,  so  that  everything  was  in  excellent 


444  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

taste  and  good  order.  But  in  Jeanie's  bedroom  was  a  neat 
trunk,  which  had  greatly  excited  Mrs.  Button's  curiosity, 
for  she  was  sure  that  the  direction,  ''For  Mrs.  Jean  Deans, 
at  Auchingower,  parish  of  Knocktarlitie,"  was  the  writing 
of  Mrs.  Semple,  the  Duchess's  own  woman.  May  Hettly 
produced  the  key  in  a  sealed  parcel,  which  bore  the  same 
address,  and  attached  to  the  key  was  a  label,  intimating  that 
the  trunk  and  its  contents  were  "  a  token  of  remembrance 
to  Jeanie  Deans  from  her  friends  the  Duchess  of  Argyle  and 
the  young  ladies."  The  trunk,  hastily  opened,  as  the  reader 
will  not  doubt,  was  found  to  be  full  of  wearing  apparel  of 
the  best  quality,  suited  to  Jeanie's  rank  in  life  ;  and  to  most 
of  the  articles  the  names  of  the  particular  donors  were  at- 
tached, as  if  to  make  Jeanie  sensible  not  only  of  the  general 
but  of  the  individual  interest  she  had  excited  in  the  noble 
family.  To  name  the  various  articles  by  their  appropriate 
names  would  be  to  attempt  things  unattempted  yet  in  prose 
or  rhyme  ;  besides,  that  the  old-fashioned  terms  of  manteaus, 
sacques,  kissing-strings,  and  so  forth  would  convey  but  little 
information  even  to  the  milliners  of  the  j)i'esent  day.  (I 
shall  deposit,  however,  an  accurate  inventory  of  the  contents 
of  the  trunk  with  my  kind  friend.  Miss  Martha  Buskbody, 
who  has  promised,  should  the  public  curiosity  seem  interested 
in  the  subject,  to  supply  me  with  a  professional  glossary  and 
commentary.)  Suffice  it  to  say,  that  the  gift  was  such  as 
became  the  donors,  and  was  suited  to  the  situation  of  the 
receiver  ;  that  everything  was  handsome  and  appropriate, 
and  nothing  forgotten  which  belonged  to  the  wardrobe  of  a 
young  person  in  Jeanie's  situation  in  life,  the  destined  bride 
of  a  respectable  clergyman. 

Article  after  article  was  displayed,  commented  upon,  and 
admired,  to  the  wonder  of  May,  who  declared,  "she  didna 
think  the  Queen  had  mair  or  better  claise,"  and  somewhat  to 
the  envy  of  the  northern  Cowslip.  This  unamiable,  but  not 
very  unnatural,  disposition  of  mind  broke  forth  in  sundry 
unfounded  criticisms  to  the  disparagement  of  the  articles,  as 
they  were  severally  exhibited.  But  it  assumed  a  more 
direct  character  when,  at  the  bottom  of  all,  was  found  a 
dress  of  white  silk,  very  plainly  made,  but  still  of  white  silk, 
and  French  silk  to  boot,  with  a  paper  pinned  to  it,  bearing, 
that  it  was  a  present  from  the  Duke  of  Argyle  to  his  travel- 
ing companion,  to  be  worn  on  the  day  when  she  should 
change  her  name. 

Mrs.  Dutton  could  forbear  no  longer,  but  whispered  into 
Mr.  Archibald's  ear,  that  it  was  a  clever  thing  to  be  a  Scotch- 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  446 

woman  :  "  She  supposed  all  her  sisters,  and  she  had  half  a 
dozen,  might  have  been  hanged,  without  any  one  sending 
her  a  present  of  a  pocket  handkerchief." 

"  Or  without  your  making  any  exertion  to  save  them,  Mrs. 
Dolly/'  answered  Archibald,  drily.  "  But  I  am  surprised 
we  do  not  hear  the  bell  yet,"  said  he,  looking  at  his  watch. 

*'  Fat  ta  deil,  Mr.  Archibald,"  answered  the  Captain  of 
Knockduuder,  "wad  ye  hae  them  ring  the  bell  before  I  am 
ready  to  gang  to  kirk  ?  I  wad  gar  the  bedral  eat  the  bell- 
rope  if  he  took  ony  sic  freedom.  But  if  ye  want  to  hear  the 
bell,  I  will  just  show  mysell  on  the  knowe-head,  and  it  will 
begin  jowing  forthwith." 

Accordingly,  so  soon  as  they  sallied  oat,  and  the  gold- 
laced  hat  of  the  Captain  was  seen  rising  like  Hesper  above 
the  dewy  verge  of  the  rising  ground,  the  clash — for  it  was 
rather  a  clash  than  a  clang — of  the  bell  was  heard  from  the 
old  moss-grown  tower,  and  the  clapper  continued  to  thump 
its  cracked  sides  all  the  while  they  advanced  towards  the 
kirk,  Duncan  exhorting  them  to  take  their  own  time,  "for 
teil  ony  sport  wad  be  till  he  came."  * 

Accordingly,  the  bell  only  changed  to  the  final  and  impa- 
tient chime  when  they  crossed  the  stile;  and  "rang  in," 
that  is,  concluded  its  mistuned  summons,  when  they  had 
entered  the  Duke's  seat  in  the  little  kirk,  where  the  whole 
party  arranged  themselves,  with  Duncan  at  their  head,  ex- 
cepting David  Deans,  who  already  occupied  a  seat  among 
the  elders. 

The  business  of  the  day,  with  a  particular  detail  of  which 
it  is  unnecessary  to  trouble  the  reader,  was  gone  through 
according  to  the  established  form,  and  the  sermon  pronounced 
upon  the  occasion  had  the  good  fortune  to  please  even  the 
critical  David  Deans,  though  it  was  only  an  hour  and  a 
quarter  long,  which  David  termed  a  short  allowance  of 
spiritual  provender. 

The  preacher,  who  was  a  divine  that  held  many  of  David's 
opinions,  privately  apologized  for  his  brevity  by  saying, 
"  That  he  observed  the  Captain  was  gaunting  grievously, 
and  that  if  he  had  detained  him  longer,  there  was  no  know- 
ing how  long  he  might  be  in  paying  the  next  term's  victual 
stipend." 

David  groaned  to  find  that  such  carnal  motives  could  have 
influence  upon  the  mind  of  a  powerful  preacher.  He  had, 
indeed,  been  scandalized  by  another  circumstance  during  the 
service. 

*  See  Tolling  to  Service  in  Scotland.     Note  36. 


446  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

So  soon  as  the  congregation  were  seated  after  prayers,  and 
the  clergyman  had  read  his  text,  the  gracions  Duncan,  after 
rummaging  the  leathern  purse  which  hung  in  front  of  his 
petticoat,  produced  a  short  tobacco-pipe  made  of  iron,  and 
observed,  almost  aloud,  "  1  hae  forgotten  my  spleuchan. 
Lachlan,  gang  down  to  the  clachan  and  bring  me  up  a  penny- 
worth of  twist."  Six  arms,  the  nearest  within  reach,  pre- 
sented, with  an  obedient  start,  as  many  tobacco-pouches  to 
the  man  of  office.  He  made  choice  of  one  with  a  nod  of 
acknowledgment,  filled  his  pipe,  lighted  it  with  the  assist- 
ance of  his  pistol-flint,  and  smoked  with  infinite  composure 
during  the  whole  time  of  the  sermon.  When  the  discourse 
was  finished,  he  knocked  the  ashes  out  of  his  pipe,  replaced 
it  in  its  sporran,  returned  the  tobacco  pouch  or  spleuchan  to 
its  owner,  and  joined  in  the  prayer  with  decency  and  atten- 
tion. 

At  the  end  of  the  service,  when  Butler  had  been  admitted 
minister  of  the  kirk  of  Knocktarlitie,  with  all  its  spiritual 
immunities  and  privileges,  David,  who  had  frowned,  groaned, 
and  murmured  at  Knockdunder's  irreverent  demeanor,  com- 
municated his  plain  thoughts  of  the  matter  to  Isaac  Meikle- 
hose,  one  of  the  elders,  with  whom  a  reverential  aspect  and 
huge  grizzle  wig  had  especially  disposed  him  to  seek  frater- 
nization. ''  It  didna  become  a  wild  Indian,"  David  said, 
"much  less  a  Christian  and  a  gentleman,  to  sit  in  the  kirk 
puffing  tobacco-reek,  as  if  he  were  in  a  change-house." 

Meiklehose  shook  his  head,  and  allowed  it  was  "far  frae 
beseeming.  But  what  will  ye  say  ?  The  Captain^s  a  queer 
hand,  and  to  speak  to  him  about  that  or  ony  thing  else  that 
crosses  the  maggot,  wad  be  to  set  the  kiln  a-low.  He  keeps 
a  high  hand  ower  the  country,  and  we  couldna  deal  wi'  the 
Hielandmen  without  his  protection,  sin'  a'  the  keys  o'  the 
kintray  hings  at  his  belt  ;  and  he's  no  an  ill  body  in  the 
main,  and  maistry,  ye  ken,  maws  the  meadows  doun." 

"  That  may  be  very  true,  neighbor,"  said  David ;  "  but 
Reuben  Butler  isna  the  man  I  take  him  to  be  if  he  disna 
learn  the  Captain  to  fuff  his  pipe  some  other  gate  than  in 
God's  house  or  t]^e  quarter  be  ower." 

"Fair  and  softly  gangs  far,"  said  Meiklehose  ;  "and  if  a 
fule  may  gie  a  wise  man  a  counsel,  I  wad  hae  him  think 
twice  or  he  mells  wi'  Knockdunder.  He  suld  hae  a  lang- 
shankit  spune  that  wad  sup  kail  wi'  the  deil.  But  they  are 
a'  away  to  their  dinner  to  the  change-house,  and  if  we  dinna 
mend  our  pace,  we'll  come  short  at  meal-time." 

David  accompanied  his  friend  without  answer  ;  but  began 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  447 

to  feel  from  experience  that  the  glen  of  Knocktarlitie,  like 
the  rest  of  the  world,  was  haunted  by  its  own  special  sub- 
jects of  regret  and  discontent.  His  miud  was  so  much  oc- 
cupied by  considering  tlie  best  means  of  converting  Duncan 
of  Knock  to  a  sense  of  reverent  decency  during  public 
worship,  that  he  altogether  forgot  to  inquire  whether 
Butler  was  called  upon  to  subscribe  the  oaths  to  govern- 
ment. 

Some  have  insinuated  that  his  neglect  on  this  head  was, 
in  some  degree,  intentional  ;  but  I  think  this  explanation 
inconsistent  with  the  simplicity  of  my  friend  David's  char- 
acter. Neither  have  I  ever  been  able,  by  the  most  minute 
inquiries,  to  know  whether  the  formula  at  which  he  so  much 
scrupled  had  been  exacted  from  Butler,  aye  or  no.  The 
books  of  the  kirk-session  might  have  thrown  some  light  on 
this  matter  ;  but  unfortunately  they  were  destroyed  in  the 
year  1746,  by  one  Donacha  Dhu  na  Dunaigh,  at  the  instance, 
it  was  said,  or  at  least  by  the  connivance,  of  the  gracious 
Duncan  of  Knock,  who  had  a  desire  to  obliterate  the  re- 
corded foibles  of  a  certain  Kate  Finlayson. 


CHAPTER  XLVI 

Now  butt  and  ben  the  cliange-house  fills 
Wr  yill-caup  commentators  : 
Here's  crying  out  for  bakes  and  gills, 
And  there  the  pint-stoup  clatters. 
While  thick  and  thrang,  and  loud  and  lang, 
Wi'  logic  and  wi'  .Scripture, 
They  raise  a  din  that  in  the  end 
Is  like  to  breed  a  rupture 

O'  wrath  that  day. 

Burks. 

A  PLEXTIFUL  entertainment,  at  the  Duke  of  Argyle's  cost, 
regaled  tlie  reverend  gentlemen  who  had  assisted  at  the 
ordination  of  Reuben  Butler,  and  almost  all  the  respectable 
part  of  the  parish.  The  feast  was,  indeed,  such  as  the 
country  itself  furnished  ;  for  plenty  of  all  the  requisites  for 
"  a  rough  and  round "  dinner  were  always  at  Duncan  of 
Knock's  command.  There  was  the  beef  and  mutton  on  the 
braes,  the  fresh  and  saltwater  fish  in  the  lochs,  the  brooks, 
and  firth  ;  game  of  every  kind,  from  the  deer  to  the  leveret, 
were  to  be  had  for  the  killing  in  the  Duke's  forests,  moors, 
heaths,  and  mosses  ;  and  for  liquor,  home-brewed  ale  flowed 
as  freely  as  water  ;  brandy  and  usquebaugh  both  were  had 
in  those  happy  times  without  duty  ;  even  white  wine  and 
claret  were  got  for  nothing,  since  the  Duke's  extensive 
rights  of  admiralty  gave  him  a  title  to  all  the  wine  in  cask 
which  is  drifted  ashore  on  the  western  coast  and  isles  of 
Scotland,  when  shipping  have  suffered  by  severe  weather. 
In  short,  as  Duncan  boasted,  the  entertainment  did  not  cost 
MacCallummore  a  plack  out  of  his  sporran,  and  was  never- 
theless not  only  liberal,  but  overflowing. 

The  Duke's  health  was  solemnized  in  a  bona  fide  bumper, 
and  David  Deans  himself  added  perhaps  the  first  huzza  that 
his  lungs  had  ever  uttered  to  swell  the  shout  with  which  the 
pledge  was  received.  Nay,  so  exalted  in  heart  was  he  upon 
this  memorable  occasion,  and  so  much  disposed  to  be  indul- 
gent, that  he  expressed  no  dissatisfaction  when  three  bag- 
pipers struck  up,  "  The  Campbells  are  coming."  The  health 
of  the  reverend  minister  of  Knocktarlitie  was  received  with 
similar  honors  ;  and  there  was  a  roar  of  laughter  when  one 

448 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDL O THIA N  449 

of  his  brethren  slyly  subjoined  the  addition  of,  "A  goodw;fe 
to  our  brother  to  keep  the  manse  in  order."  On  this  occa- 
sion David  Deans  was  delivered  of  his  first-born  joke ;  and 
apparently  the  parturition  was  accompanied  with  many 
tiiroes,  for  sorely  did  he  twist  about  liis  physiognomy.,  and 
much  did  he  stumble  in  his  speech,  before  he  could  express 
liis  idea,  "  That  the  lad  being  now  wedded  to  his  spiritual 
bride,  it  was  hard  to  threaten  him  with  a  temporal  spouse 
in  the  same  day/'  He  then  laughed  a  hoarse  and  brief 
laugh,  and  was  suddenly  grave  and  silent,  as  if  abashed  at 
his  own  vivacious  effort. 

After  another  toast  or  two,  Jeanie,  Mrs.  Dolly,  and  such  of 
the  female  natives  as  had  honored  the  feast  with  their  pres- 
ence, retired  to  David's  new  dwelling  at  Auchingowcr,  and 
left  the  gentlemen  to  their  potations. 

The  feast  proceeded  witli  great  glee.  The  conversation, 
where  Duncan  had  it  under  his  direction,  was  not  indeed 
always  strictly  canonical,  but  David  Deans  escaped  any  risk 
of  being  scandalized  by  engaging  with  one  of  his  neig"hbors 
in  a  racapitulation  of  the  sufferings  of  Ayrshire  and  Lanark- 
shire, during  what  was  called  the  invasion  of  the  Highland 
Host ;  the  prudent  Mr.  Meiklehose  cautioning  them  from 
time  to  time  to  lower  their  voices,  for  "  that  Duncan  Knock's 
father  had  been  at  that  onslaught,  and  brought  back  muckle 
gude  plenishing,  and  that  Duncan  was  no  unlikely  to  hae 
been  there  himself,  for  what  he  kenn'd." 

Meanwhile,  as  the  mirth  grew  fast  and  furious,  the  graver 
members  of  the  party  began  to  escape  as  well  as  they  could. 
David  Deans  accomplished  his  retreat,  and  Butler  anxiously 
watched  an  opportunity  to  follow  him.  Knockdunder,  how- 
ever, desirous,  he  said,  of  knowing  what  stuff  was  in  the  new 
minister,  had  no  intention  to  part  with  him  so  easily,  but 
kept  him  pinned  to  his  side,  watching  him  sedulously,  and 
with  obliging  violence  filling  his  glass  to  the  brim  as  often 
as  he  could  seize  an  opportunity  of  doing  so.  At  length,  as 
the  evening  was  wearing  late,  a  venerable  brother  chanced 
to  ask  Mr.  Archibald  when  they  might  hope  to  see  the  Duke, 
tam  carum  caput,  as  he  would  venture  to  term  him,  at  the 
Lodge  of  Roseneath.  Duncan  of  Knock,  whose  ideas  were 
somewhat  conglomerated,  and  who,  it  may  be  believed,  was 
no  great  scholar,  catching  up  some  imperfect  sound  of  the 
words,  conceived  the  speaker  was  drawing  a  parallel  between 
the  Duke  and  Sir  Donald  Gorme  of  Sleat ;  and  being  of 
opinion  that  such  com})arison  was  odious,  snorted  thrice,  and 
prepared  himself  to  be  in  a  passion. 
29 


450  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

To  the  explanation  of  the  venerable  divine  the  Captain 
answered,  "  I  heard  the  word  "  Gorme  "myself,  sir,  with  my 
ain  ears.     D'ye  think  I  do  not  know  Gaelic  from  Latin  ?  " 

"  Apparently  not,  sir,"  so  the  clergyman,  offended  in  his 
turn,  and  taking  a  pinch  of  snuff,  answered  with  great  cool- 
ness. 

The  copper  nose  of  the  gracious  Duncan  now  became 
heated  like  the  bull  of  Phalaris,  and  while  Mr.  Archibald 
mediated  betwixt  the  offended  parties,  and  the  aitention 
of  the  company  was  engaged  by  their  dispute,  Butler  took 
an  opportunity  to  effect  his  retreat. 

He  found  the  females  at  Auchingower  very  anxious  for  the 
breaking  up  of  the  convivial  party  ;  for  it  was  a  part  of  the 
arrangement  that,  although  David  Deans  was  to  remain  at 
Auchingower,  and  Butler  was  that  night  to  take  possession 
of  the  manse,  yet  Jeanie,  for  whom  complete  accommoda- 
tions were  not  yet  provided  in  her  father's  house,  was  to  re- 
turn for  a  day  or  two  to  the  Lodge  at  Roseneath,  and  the 
boats  had  been  held  in  readiness  accordingly.  They  waited, 
therefore,  for  Knockdunder's  return,  but  twilight  came  and 
they  still  waited  in  vain.  At  length  Mr,  Archibald,  who,  as  a 
man  of  decorum,  had  taken  care  not  to  exceed  in  his  con- 
viviality, made  his  appearance,  and  advised  the  females 
strongly  to  return  to  the  island  under  his  escort ;  observing 
that,  from  the  humor  in  which  he  had  left  the  Captain,  it 
was  a  great  chance  whether  he  budged  out  of  the  public-house 
that  night,  and  it  was  absolutely  certain  that  he  would 
not  be  very  fit  company  for  ladies.  The  gig  was  at  their 
disposal,  he  said,  and  there  was  still  pleasant  twilight  for  a 
party  on  the  Avater. 

Jeanie,  who  had  considerable  confidence  in  Archibald's 
prudence,  immediately  acquiesced  in  this  proposal  ;  but  Mrs. 
Dolly  positively  objected  to  the  small  boat.  If  the  big  boat 
could  be  gotten,  she  agreed  to  set  out,  otherwise  she  would 
sleep  on  the  floor,  rather  than  stir  a  step.  Eeasoning  with 
Dolly  was  out  of  the  question,  and  Archibald  did  not  think 
the  difficulty  so  pressing  as  to  require  compulsion.  He  ob- 
served, ''  It  was  not  using  the  Captain  very  politely  to  de- 
prive him  of  his  coach  and  six  ;  but  as  it  was  in  the  ladies' 
service,"  he  gallantly  said,  "  he  would  use  so  much  freedom  ; 
besides,  the  gig  would  serve  the  Captain's  purpose  better,  as 
it  could  come  off  at  any  hour  of  the  tide  ;  the  large  boat 
should,  therefore,  be  at  Mrs.  Dolly's  service.'' 

They  walked  to  the  beach  accordingly,  accompanied  by 
Butler.     It   was  some  time  before  the  boatmen   could  be 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  451 

assembled,  and  ere  they  were  well  embarked,  and  ready  to 
depart,  the  pale  moon  was  come  over  the  hill,  and  flinging 
a  trembling  reflection  on  the  broad  and  glittering  waves. 
But  so  soft  and  pleasant  was  the  night,  that  Butler,  in  bid- 
ding farewell  to  Jeanie,  had  no  apprehension  for  her  safety  ; 
and,  what  is  yet  more  extraordinary,  Mrs.  Dolly  felt  no 
alarm  for  her  own.  The  air  was  soft,  and  came  over  the 
cooling  wave  with  something  of  summer  fragrance.  The 
beautiful  scene  of  headlands,  and  capes,  and  bays  around 
them,  with  the  broad  blue  chain  of  mountains,  was  dimly 
visible  in  tlie  moonlight  ;  while  every  dash  of  the  oars  made 
the  waters  glance  and  sparkle  with  the  brilliant  phenomenon 
called  the  sea  fire. 

This  last  circumstance  filled  Jeanie  with  wonder,  and 
served  to  amuse  the  mind  of  her  companion,  until  they  ap- 
proached the  little  bay,  which  seemed  to  stretch  its  dark 
and  wooded  arms  into  the  sea  as  if  to  welcome  them. 

The  usual  landing-place  was  at  a  quarter  of  a  mile's  dis- 
tance from  the  Lodge,  and  although  the  tide  did  not  admit 
of  the  large  boat  coming  quite  close  to  the  jetty  of  loose 
stones  which  served  as  a  pier,  Jeanie,  who  was  "both  bold 
and  active,  easily  sprung  ashore  ;  but  Mrs.  Dolly  positively 
refusing  to  commit  herself  to  the  same  risk,  the  complaisant 
Mr.  Archibald  ordered  the  boat  round  to  a  more  regular 
landing-place,  at  a  considerable  distance  along  the  shore. 
He  then  prepared  to  land  himself,  that  he  might,  in  the 
meanwhile,  accompany  Jeanie  to  the  Lodge.  But  as  there 
was  no  mistaking  the  woodland  lane  which  led  from  thence 
to  the  shore,  and  as  the  moonlight  showed  her  one  of  the 
white  chimneys  rising  out  of  the  wood  which  embosomed 
the  building,  Jeanie  declined  this  favor  with  thanks,  and 
requested  him  to  proceed  with  Mrs.  Dolly,  who,  being  "in 
a  country  where  the  ways  were  strange  to  her,  had  mair 
need  of  countenance." 

This,  indeed,  was  a  fortunate  circumstance,  and  might 
even  be  said  to  save  poor  Cowslip's  life,  if  it  was  true,  as 
she  herself  used  solemnly  to  aver,  that  she  must  positively 
have  expired  for  fear  if  she  had  been  left  alone  in  the  boat 
with  six  wild  Highlanders  in  kilts. 

The  night  Avas  so  exquisitely  beautiful  that  Jeanie,  instead 
of  immediately  directing  her  course  towards  the  Lodge, 
stood  looking  after  the  boat  as  it  again  put  off  from  the  side, 
and  rowed  out  into  the  little  bay,  the  dark  figures  of  hei 
companions  growing  less  and  less  distinct  as  they  diminished 
in  the  distance,  and  the.  jorram,  or  melancholy  boat-song. 


452  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

of  the  rowers  coming  on  the  ear  with  softened  and  sweetei 
sound,  until  the  boat  rounded  the  headland  and  was  lost  to 
her  observation. 

Still  Jeanie  remained  in  the  same  posture,  looking  our 
upon  the  sea.  It  would,  she  was  aware,  be  some  time  ere 
her  companions  could  reach  the  Lodge,  as  the  distance  by 
the  more  convenient  landing-place  was  considerably  greater 
than  from  the  point  where  she  stood,  and  she  was  not  sorry 
to  have  an  opportunity  to  spend  the  interval  by  herself. 

The  wonderful  change  which  a  few  weeks  had  wrought 
in  her  situation,  from  shame  and  grief,  and  almost  despair, 
to  honor,  Joy,  and  a  fair  prospect  of  future  happiness,  passed 
before  her  eyes  with  a  sensation  which  brought  the  tears 
into  them.  Yet  they  flowed  at  the  same  time  from  another 
source.  As  human  happiness  is  never  perfect,  and  as  well- 
constructed  minds  are  never  more  sensible  of  the  distresses 
of  those  whom  they  love  than  when  their  own  situation 
forms  a  contrast  with  them,  Jeanie's  affectionate  regrets 
turned  to  the  fate  of  the  poor  sister — the  child  of  so  many 
hopes,  the  fondled  nursling  of  so  many  years — now  an  exile, 
and,  what  was  worse,  dependent  on  the  will  of  a  man  of 
whose  habits  she  had  every  reason  to  entertain  the  worst 
opinion,  and  who,  even  in  his  strongest  paroxysms  of  remorse, 
had  appeared  too  much  a  stranger  to  the  feelings  of  real 
penitence. 

While  her  thoughts  were  occupied  with  these  melancholy 
reflections,  a  shadowy  figure  seemed  to  detach  itself  from  the 
copsewood  on  her  rig^ht  hand.  Jeanie  started,  and  the 
stories  of  apparitions  and  wraiths,  seen  by  solitary  travelers 
in  wild  situations,  as  such  times  and  in  such  an  hour,  sud- 
denly came  full  upon  her  imagination.  The  figure  glided 
on,  and  as  it  came  betwixt  her  and  the  moon,  she  was  aware 
that  it  had  the  appearance  of  a  woman.  A  soft  voice  twice 
repeated,  "Jeanie — Jeanie!"  Was  it  indeed — could  it  be 
the  voice  of  her  sister  ?  Was  she  still  among  the  living,  or 
had  the  grave  given  up  its  tenant  ?  Ere  she  could  state 
these  questions  to  her  own  mind,  Effie,  alive  and  in  the 
body,  had  clasped  her  in  her  arms,  and  was  straining  her 
to  her  bosom  and  devouring  her  with  kisses.  "  I  have  wan- 
dered here,"  she  said,  "  like  a  ghaist,  to  see  you,  and  nae 
wonder  you  take  me  for  ane.  I  thought  but  to  see  you 
gang  by,  or  to  hear  the  sound  of  your  voice  ;  but  to  speak 
to  yoursell  again,  Jeanie,  was  mair  than  I  deserved,  and 
mair  than  I  durst  pray  for." 

"  O,  Effie  !  how  came  ye  here  alone,  and  at  this  hour,  and 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  453 

on  the  wild  sea-beach  ?  Are  you  sure  it's  your  aiu  living 
sell  ?  " 

There  was  something  of  Eflfie's  former  humor  in  her  prac- 
tically answering  the  question  by  a  gentle  pinch,  more  be- 
seeming the  fingers  of  a  fairy  than  of  a  ghost. 

And  again  the  sisters  embraced,  and  laughed,  and  wept 
by  turns. 

"But  ye  maun  gang  up  wi'  me  to  the  Lodge,  Effie,*'  said 
Jeanie,  "  and  tell  me  a'  your  story.  I  hae  gude  folk  there 
that  will  make  ye  welcome  for  my  sake.'' 

"Na,  na,  Jeanie,"  replied  her  sister,  sorrowfully:  '^ye 
hae  forgotten  what  I  am — a  banished  outlawed  creature, 
scarce  escaped  the  gallows  by  your  being  the  bauldest  and 
the  best  sister  that  ever  lived,  I'll  gae  near  nane  o'  your 
grand  friends,  if  ever  there  was  nae  danger  to  me." 

"  There  is  nae  danger — there  shall  be  nae  danger,"  said 
Jeanie,  eagerly.  "  0,  Effie,  dinna  be  wilfu' :  be  guided  for 
ahes  ;  we  will  be  sae  happy  a'  thegither  ! " 

"  I  have  a'  the  happiness  I  deserve  on  this  side  of  the  grave, 
now  that  I  hae  seen  you,"  answered  Effie  ;  "  and  whether 
there  were  danger  to  mysell  or  no,  naebody  should  ever  say 
that  I  come  with  my  cheat-the-gallows  face  to  shame  my 
sisters  amang  her  grand  friends." 

"  I  hae  nae  grand  friends,"  said  Jeanie  ;  "  nae  friends  but 
what  are  friends  of  yours — Reuben  Butler  and  my  father. 
0,  unliappy  lassie,  dinna  be  dour,  and  turn  your  back  on 
your  happiness  again  !  We  wunnasee  another  acquaintance. 
Come  hame  to  us,  your  ain  dearest  friends;  "it's  better 
sheltering  under  an  auld  hedge  than  under  a  new-planted 
wood." 

"It's  in  vain  speaking,  Jeanie:  I  maun  drink  as  I  hae 
brewed.  I  am  married,  and  I  maun  follow  my  husband  for 
better  for  worse." 

"  Married,  Effie  !  "  exclaimed  Jeanie.  "  Misfortunate 
creature  !  and  to  that  awfu' " 

"  Hush,  hush  ! "  said  Effie,  clapping  one  hand  on  her 
mouth,  and  pointing  to  the  thicket  with  the  other  ;  "he  is 
yonder."  She  said  this  in  a  tone  which  showed  that  her 
husband  had  found  means  to  inspire  her  with  awe  as  well  as 
affection. 

At  this  moment  a  man  issued  from  the  wood.  It  was 
young  Staunton.  Even  by  the  imperfect  light  of  the  moon, 
Jeanie  could  observe  that  he  was  handsomely  dressed,  and 
liad  the  air  of  a  person  of  rank. 

**  Effie,"  he  said,  "  our  time  is  well-nigh  spent ;  the  skiflP 


»54  WA  VFRLEY  NO VELS 

will  be  aground  in  the  creek,  and  I  dare  not  stay  longer.  I 
hope  your  sister  will  allow  me  to  salute  her  ?  "  But  Jeanie 
shrunk  back  from  him  with  a  feeling  of  internal  abhorrence. 
"  Well/'  he  said,  "  it  does  not  much  signify  ;  if  you  keep  up 
the  feeling  of  ill-will,  at  least  you  do  not  act  upon  it,  and  I 
thank  you  for  your  respect  to  my  secret,  when  a  word — 
which  in  your  place  I  would  have  spoken  at  once — would 
have  cost  me  my  life.  People  say  you  should  keep  from  the 
wife  of  your  bosom  the  secret  that  concerns  your  neck  :  my 
wife  and  her  sister  both  know  mine,  and  I  shall  not  sleep  a 
wink  the  less  sound." 

"But  are  you  really  married  to  my  sister,  sir?"  asked 
Jeanie,  in  great  doubt  and  anxiety  ;  for  the  haughty,  care- 
less tone  in  which  he  spoke  seemed  to  justify  her  worst 
apprehensions. 

"  I  really  am  legally  married,  and  by  own  name,"  replied 
Staunton,  more  gravely. 

"  And  your  father — and  your  friends ?  " 

'^  And  my  father  and  my  friends  must  just  reconcile  them- 
selves to  that  which  is  done  and  cannot  be  undone,"  replied 
Staunton.  "However,  it  is  my  intention,  in  order  to  break 
off  dangerous  connections,  and  to  let  my  friends  come  to 
their  temper,  to  conceal  my  marriage  for  the  present,  and 
stay  abroad  for  some  years.  So  you  will  not  hear  of  us  for 
some  time,  if  ever  you  hear  of  us  again  at  all.  It  would  be 
dangerous,  you  must  be  aware,  to  keep  up  the  correspon- 
dence ;  for  all  would  guess  that  the  husband  of  Effie  was  the 
— what  shall  I  call  myself  ? — the  slayer  of  Porteous." 

"  Hard-hearted,  light  man  !  "  thought  Jeanie  ;  "to  what 
a  character  she  has  entrusted  her  happiness  !  She  has  sown 
the  wind,  and  maun  reap  the  whirlwind." 

"  Dinna  think  ill  o'  him,"  said  Effie,  breaking  away  from 
her  husband,  and  leading  Jeanie  a  step  or  two  out  of  hearing 
— dinna  think  very  ill  o'  him  ;  he's  gude  to  me,  Jeanie — as 
gude  as  I  deserve.  And  he  is  determined  to  gie  up  his  bad 
courses.  Sae,  after  a',  dinna  greet  for  Effie  ;  she  is  better 
off  than  she  has  wrought  for.  But  you — 0  you  ! — how  can 
you  be  happy  enough  !  Never  till  ye  get  to  Heaven,  where 
a'body  is  as  gude  as  yoursell.  Jeanie,  if  I  live  and  thrive  ye 
shall  hear  of  me  ;  if  not,  just  forget  that  sic  a  creature  ever 
lived  to  vex  ye.     Fare  ye  weel — fare — fare  ye  weel  !  " 

"  She  tore  herself  from  her  sister's  arms  ;  rejoined  her 
husband  ;  they  plunged  into  the  copsewood,  and  she  saw 
them  no  more. 

The  whole  scene  had  the  effect  of  a  vision,  and  she  could 


THE  HE  A  RT  OF  MIDL  0  THIAN  455 

almost  have  believed  it  sucii,  but  that  vor}^  soon  after  they 
quitted  her  she  heard  the  sounds  of  oars,  and  a  skiff  was 
seen  on  the  firth,  pulling  swiftly  towards  the  small  smuggling 
sloop  which  lay  in  the  offing.  It  was  on  board  of  such  a 
vessel  that  Effie  had  embarked  at  Portobello,and  Jeanie  had 
no  doubt  that  the  same  conveyance  was  destined,  as  Staun- 
ton had  hinted,  to  transport  them  to  a  foreign  country. 

Although  it  was  impossible  to  determine  whether  this  in- 
terview, while  it  was  passing,  gave  more  pain  or  pleasure  to 
Jeanie  Deans,  yet  the  ultimate  impression  which  remained 
on  her  mind  was  decidedly  favorable.  Effie  was  married — 
made,  according  to  the  common  phrase,  an  honest  woman  ; 
that  was  one  main  point.  It  seemed  also  as  if  her  husband 
were  about  to  abandon  the  path  of  gross  vice,  in  which  he 
had  run  so  long  and  so  desperately  ;  that  was  another ;  for 
his  final  and  effectual  conversion,  he  did  not  want  under- 
standing, and  God  knew  His  own  hour. 

Such  were  the  thoughts  with  which  Jeanie  endeavored 
to  console  her  anxiety  respcting  her  sister's  future  fortune. 
On  her  arrival  at  the  lodge,  she  found  Archibald  in  some 
anxiety  at  her  stay,  and  about  to  walk  out  in  quest  of  her. 
A  headache  served  as  an  a  apology  for  retiring  to  rest,  in 
order  to  conceal  her  visible  agitation  of  mind  from  her  com- 
panions. 

By  this  secession  also,  she  escaped  another  scene  of  a  dif- 
ferent sort.  For,  as  if  there  were  danger  in  all  gigs,  whether 
by  sea  or  land,  that  of  Knockdunder  had  been  run  down  by 
another  boat,  an  accident  owing  chiefly  to  the  drunkenness 
of  the  Captain,  his  crew,  and  passengers.  Knockdunder, 
and  two  or  three  guests  whom  he  was  bringing  along  with 
him  to  finish  the  conviviality  of  the  evening  at  the  Lodge, 
got  a  sound  ducking  ;  but,  being  rescued  by  the  crew  of  the 
boat  which  endangered  them,  there  was  no  ultimate  loss, 
excepting  that  of  the  Captain's  laced  hat,  which,  greatly  to 
the  satisfaction  of  the  Highland  part  of  the  district,  as  well 
as  to  the  improvement  of  the  conformity  of  his  own  personal 
appearance,  he  replaced  by  a  smart  Highland  bonnet  next 
day.  Many  were  the  vehement  threats  of  vengeance  which, 
on  the  succeeding  morning,  the  gracious  Duncan  threw  out 
against  the  boat  which  had  upset  him  ;  but  as  neither  she 
nor  the  small  smuggling  vessel  to  which  she  belonged  was 
any  longer  to  be  seen  in  the  firth,  he  was.  compelled  to  sit 
down  with  the  affront.  This  was  the  more  hard,  ho  said,  as 
he  was  assured  the  mischief  was  done  on  purpose,  these 
scoundrels  having  lurked  about  after  they  had  landed  every 


456  WAVER  LEY  NOVELS 

droji  of  brandy  and  every  b;ig  of  tea  they  had  on  board  ;  and 
he  understood  the  coxswain  had  been  on  shore  making  par- 
ticular inquiries  concerning  the  time  when  his  boat  was  to 
cross  over,  and  to  return,  and  so  forth. 

**  Put  the  neist  time  they  meet  me  on  the  firth/'  said 
Duncan,  with  great  majesty,  "  I  will  teach  the  moonlight 
rapscallions  and  vagabonds  to  keep  their  ainside  of  the  road^^ 
and  be  tamn'd  to  them  I  '* 


CHAPTEE  XLVII 

Lord  !  who  would  live  turmoiled  in  a  court, 
And  may  enjoy  such  quiet  walks  as  these  ? 

Shakspear* 

Within  a  reasonable  time  after  Butler  was  safely  and 
comfortably  settled  in  his  living,  and  Jeanie  had  taken  up 
her  abode  at  Auchingower  with  her  father — the  precise  ex- 
tent of  which  interval  we  request  each  reader  to  settle  accord- 
ing to  his  own  sense  of  what  is  decent  and  proper  upon  the 
occasion — and  after  due  proclamation  of  banns  and  all  other 
formalities,  the  long  wooing  of  this  worthy  pair  was  ended 
by  their  union  in  the  holy  bands  of  matrimony.  On  this  oc- 
casion, David  Deans  stoutly  withstood  the  iniquities  of  pipes, 
fiddles,  and  promiscuous  dancing,  to  the  great  wrath  of  the 
Captain  of  Knockdunder,  who  said,  if  he  "had  guessed  it 
was  to  be  sic  a  tamn'd  Quakers'  meeting,  he  wad  hae  seen 
them  peyont  the  cairn  before  he  wad  hae  darkened  their 
doors." 

And  so  much  rancor  remained  on  the  spirits  of  the  gracious 
Duncan  upon  this  occasion,  that  various  "  picqueerings/' 
as  David  called  them,  took  place  upon  the  same  and  similar 
topics  ;  and  it  was  only  in  consequence  of  an  accidental  visit 
of  the  Duke  to  his  Lodge  at  Eoseneath  that  they  wei'e  put  a 
stop  to.  But  upon  that  occasion  his  Grace  showed  such 
particular  respect  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Butler,  and  such  favor 
even  to  aid  David,  that  Knockdunder  held  it  prudent  to 
change  his  course  towards  the  latter.  He  in  future  used  to 
express  himself  among  friends  concerning  the  minister  and 
his  wife,  as  "  very  worthy  decent  folk,  just  a  little  over  strict 
in  their  notions  ;  put  it  was  pest  for  thae  plack  cattle  to  err 
on  the  safe  side."  And  respecting  David,  he  allowed  that 
"  he  was  an  excellent  judge  of  nowte  and  sheep,  and  a  sen- 
sible eneugh  carle,  an  it  werena  for  his  tamn'd  Cameronian 
nonsense,  whilk  it  is  not  worth  while  of  a  shentleman  to 
knock  out  of  an  auld  silly  head,  either  by  force  of  reason  or 
otherwise."  So  that,  by  avoiding  topics  of  dispute,  the  per- 
sonages of  our  tale  lived  in  great  good  habits  with  the  gra- 
cious Duncan,  only  that  he  still  grieved  David's  soul,  and  set 


458  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

a  perilous  example  to  the  congregation,  by  sometimes  bring- 
ing his  pipe  to  the  churcli  during  a  cold  winter  day,  and  al- 
most always  sleeping  during  sermon  in  the  summer-time. 

Mrs.  Butler,  whom  we  must  no  longer,  if  we  can  help  it, 
term  by  the  familiar  nameof  Jeanie,  brought  into  the  married 
state  the  same  firm  mind  and  affectionate  disposition,  the 
same  natural  and  homely  good  sense,  and  spirit  of  useful  ex- 
ertion— in  a  word,  all  the  domestic  good  qualities  of  which 
she  had  given  proof  during  her  maiden  life.  She  did  not 
indeed  rival  Butler  in  learning  ;  but  then  no  woman  more 
devoutly  venerated  the  extent  of  her  husband's  erudition. 
She  did  not  pretend  to  understand  his  expositions  of  divinity; 
but  no  minister  of  the  presbytery  had  his  humble  dinner  so 
well  arranged,  his  clothes  and  linen  in  equal  good  order,  his 
fireside  so  neatly  swept,  his  parlor  so  clean,  and  his  books  so 
well  dusted. 

If  he  talked  to  Jeanie  of  what  she  did  not  understand — and 
(for  the  man  was  mortal,  and  had  been  a  schoolmaster)  he 
sometimes  did  harangue  more  scholarly  and  wisely  than  was 
necessary — she  listened  in  placid  silence  ;  and  whenever  the 
point  referred  to  common  life,  and  was  such  as  came  under 
the  grasp  of  a  strong  natural  understanding,  her  views  were 
more  forcible,  and  her  observations  more  acute,  than  his 
own.  In  acquired  politeness  of  manners,  when  it  happened 
that  she  mingled  a  little  in  society,  Mrs.  Butler  was,  of  course, 
judged  deficient.  But  then  she  had  that  obvious  wish  to 
oblige,  and  that  real  and  natural  good-breeding  depending 
on  good  sense  and  good-humor,  which,  joined  to  a  consider- 
able degree  of  archness  and  liveliness  of  manner,  rendered 
her  behavior  acceptable  to  ail  with  whom  she  was  called  upon 
to  associate.  Notwithstanding  her  strict  attention  to  all 
domestic  affairs,  she  always  appeared  the  clean  well-dressed 
,  mistress  of  the  house,  never  the  sordid  household  drudge. 
When  complimented  on  this  occasion  by  Duncan  Knock, 
who  swore,  ''  that  he  thought  the  fairies  must  help  her,  since 
her  house  was  always  clean,  and  nobody  ever  saw  anybody 
sweeping  it,"  she  modestly  replied,  ''That  much  might  be 
dune  by  timing  ane's  turns." 

Duncan  replied,  "  He  heartily  wished  she  could  teach  that 
art  to  the  huzzies  at  the  Lodge,  for  he  could  never  discover 
that  the  house  was  Avashed  at  a',  except  now  and  then  by 
breaking  his  shins  over  the  pail.  Cot  tamn  the  jauds  \" 

Of  lesser  matters  there  is  no  occasion  to  sjDcak  much.  It 
may  easily  be  believed  that  the  Duke's  cheese  was  carefully 
made,  and  so  graciously  accepted  that  the  offering  became 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  459 

annual.  Remembrances  and  acknowledgments  of  past 
favors  were  sent  to  Mrs.  Bickerton  and  Mrs.  Glass,  and  an 
amicable  intercourse  maintained  from  time  to  time  with 
these  two  respectable  and  benevolent  persons. 

It  is  especially  necessary  to  mention  tluit,,  in  the  course  of 
five  years,  Mrs.  Butler,  had  three  children,  two  boys  and  a 
girl,  all  stout  healthy  babes  of  grace,  fair-haired,  bhie-eyed, 
and  strong-limbed.  The  boys  were  named  David  and  Reu- 
ben, an  order  of  nomenclature  which  was  much  to  the 
satisfaction  of  the  old  hero  of  the  Covenant,  and  the  girl,  by 
her  mother's  special  desire,  was  christened  Enphemia,  rather 
contrary  to  the  wish  of  both  her  father  and  husband,  who 
nevertheless  loved  Mrs.  Butler  coo  well,  and  were  too  much 
indebted  to  her  for  their  hours  of  happiness,  to  withstand 
any  request  which  she  made  with  earnestness,  and  as  a 
gratification  to  herself.  But  from  some  feeling,  I  know  not 
of  what  kind,  the  child  was  never  distinguished  by  the 
name  of  Effie,  but  by  the  abbreviation  of  Femie,  Avhich  in 
Scotland  is  equally  commonly  applied  to  persons  called 
Euphemia. 

In  this  state  of  quiet  and  unostentatious  enjoyment  there 
were,  besides  the  ordinary  rubs  and  ruffles  which  disturbed 
even  the  most  uniform  life,  two  things  which  particularly 
chequered  Mrs.  Butler's  happiness.  "Without  these,"  she 
said  to  our  informer,  ''her  life  would  have  been  but  too 
happy  ;  and  perhaps,"  she  added,  '*  she  had  need  of  some 
crosses  in  this  world  to  remind  her  that  there  was  a  better 
to  come  behind  it." 

The  first  of  these  related  to  certain  polemical  skirmishes 
betwixt  her  father  and  her  husband,  which  notwithstanding 
the  mutual  respect  and  affection  they  entertained  for  each 
other,  and  their  great  love  for  her ;  notwithstanding  also 
their  general  agreement  in  strictness,  and  even  severity,  of 
Presbyterian  principle,  often  threatened  unpleasant  weather 
between  them.  David  Deans,  as  our  readers  must  be  aware, 
was  sufficiently  opinionative  and  intractable,  and  having 
prevailed  on  himself  to  become  a  member  of  a  kirk-session 
under  the  established  church,  he  felt  doubly  obliged  to 
evince  that,  in  so  doing,  he  had  not  compromised  any  whit 
of  his  former  professions,  either  in  practise  or  principle. 
Now  Mr.  Butler,  doing  all  credit  to  his  father-in-law's 
motives,  was  frequently  of  opinion  that  it  was  better  to 
drop  out  of  memory  points  of  division  and  separation,  and 
to  act  in  the  manner  most  likely  to  attract  and  unite  all 
parties  who  were  serious  in  religion.     Moreover,  he  was  not 


460  WAV ERLEY  NOVELS 

pleased,  as  a  man  and  a  scholar,  to  be  always  dictated  to  by 
his  unlettered  father-in-law  ;  and  as  a  clergyman  he  did  not 
think  it  fit  to  seem  forever  under  the  thumb  of  an  elder  of 
his  own  kirk-session.  A  proud  but  honest  thought  carried 
his  opposition  now  and  then  a  little  farther  than  it  would 
otherwise  have  gone.  "My  brethren/' he  said,  "will  sup- 
pose I  am  flattering  and  conciliating  the  old  man  for  the 
sake  of  his  succession,  if  I  defer  and  give  way  to  him  on 
every  occasion  ;  and,  besides,  there  are  many  on  which  I 
neither  can  nor  will  conscientiously  yield  to  his  notions.  1 
cannot  be  persecuting  old  women  for  witches,  or  ferreting 
out  matter  of  scandal  among  the  young  ones,  w^hich  might 
otherwise  remained  concealed." 

From  this  difference  of  opinion  it  happened  that,  in  many 
cases  of  nicety,  such  as  in  owning  certain  defections,  and 
failing  to  testify  against  certain  backslidings  of  the  time  ; 
in  not  always  severely  tracing  forth  little  matters  of  scandal 
and  fajna  clamosa,  which  David  called  a  loosening  of  the  reins 
of  discipline  ;  and  in  failing  to  demand  clear  testimonies  in 
other  points  of  controversy  which  had,  as  it  were,  drifted  to 
leeward  with  the  change  of  times,  Butler  incurred  the  cen- 
sure of  his  father-in-law  ;  and  sometimes  the  disputes  be- 
twixt them  became  eager  and  almost  unfriendly.  In  all 
such  cases  Mrs.  Butler  was  a  mediating  spirit,  who  en- 
deavored, by  the  alkaline  smoothness  of  her  own  dis- 
position, to  neutralize  the  acidity  of  theological  contro- 
versy. To  the  complaints  of  both  she  lent  an  unpre- 
judiced and  attentive  ear,  and  sought  always  rather  to  excuse 
than  absolutely  to  defend  the  other  party. 

She  reminded  her  father  that  Butler  had  not  "  his  ex- 
perience of  the  auld  and  wrastling  times,  when  folk  were 
gifted  wi'  a  far  look  into  eternity,  to  make  up  for  the  op- 
pressions whilk  they  suffered  here  below  in  time.  She 
freely  allowed  that  many  devout  ministers  and  professors  in 
times  past  had  enjoyed  downright  revelation,  like  the 
blessed  Peden,  and  Lundie,  and  Cameron,  and  Renwick, 
and  John  Caird  the  tinkler,  wha  entered  into  the  secrets ; 
and  Elizabeth  Melvil,  Lady  Culross  who  prayed  in  her  bed, 
surrounded  by  a  great  many  Christians  in  a  large  room,  in 
whilk  it  was  placed  on  purpose,  and  that  for  three  hours' 
time,  with  wonderful  assistance ;  and  Lady  Robertland, 
whilk  got  six  sure  outgates  of  grace ;  and  mony  other 
in  times  past ;  and  of  a  specialty,  Mr.  John  Scrimgeour, 
minister  of  Kinghorn,  who,  having  a  beloved  child  sick  to 
death  of  the  crewels,  was  free  to  expostulate  with  his  Maker 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  481 

with  snch  impatience  of  displeasure,  and  complaining  so 
bitterly,  that  at  length  it  was  said  unto  liim  tliat  he  was 
heard  for  this  time,  but  that  he  was  requested  to  use  no 
such  boldness  in  time  coming  ;  so  that,  when  he  returned, 
he  found  the  child  sitting  up  in  the  bed  hale  and  fair,  with 
all  its  wounds  closed,  and  supping  its  parritch,  whilk  babe 
he  had  left  at  the  time  of  death.  But  tliougli  these  things 
might  be  true  in  these  needful  times,  she  contended  that 
those  ministers  who  had  not  seen  such  vouchsafed  and  es- 
pecial mercies  were  to  seek  their  rule  in  the  record  of 
ancient  times  ;  and  therefore  Reuben  was  carefu'  both  to 
search  the  Scriptures  and  the  books  written  by  wise  and  good 
men  of  old  ;  and  sometimes  in  this  way  it  wad  hapj^en  that 
twa  precious  saints  might  pu'  sundry  wise,  like  twa  cows 
riving  at  the  same  hay-band." 

To  this  David  used  to  reply,  with  a  sigh,  "  Ah,  hinny, 
thou  kenu'st  little  o't ;  but  that  same  John  Scrimgeour, 
that  blew  open  the  gates  of  Heaven  as  an  it  had  been  wi'  a 
sax-pund  cannon-ball,  used  devoutly  to  wish  that  most  part 
of  books  were  burned,  except  the  Bible.  Reuben's  a  gude 
lad  and  a  kind — I  have  aye  allowed  that ;  but  as  to  his  not 
allowing  inquiry  anent  the  scandal  of  Margery  Kittlesides 
and  Rory  MacRand,  under  pretense  that  they  have  south- 
ered  sin  wi'  marriage,  it's  clear  agane  the  Christian  discipline 
o'  the  kirk.  And  then  there's  AiHe  MacClure  of  Deep- 
heugh,  that  practises  her  abominations,  spacing  folks  for- 
tunes wi'  egg-shells,  and  mutton-banes,  and  dreams  and 
divinations,  whilk  is  a  scandal  to  ony  Christian  land  to 
suffer  sic  a  wretch  to  live  ;  and  I'll  uphaud  that  in  a'  judi- 
catures, civil  or  ecclesiastical.'^ 

"  I  daresay  ye  are  very  right,  father,"  was  the  general 
style  of  Jeanie's  answer  ;  "but  ye  maun  come  down  to  the 
manse  to  your  dinner  the  day.  The  bits  o'  bairns,  puir 
things,  are  wearying  to  see  their  luckie-dad  ;  and  Reuben 
never  sleeps  weel,  nor  I  neither,  when  you  and  he  hae  had 
ony  bit  outcast." 

"  Nae  outcast,  Jeanie  ;  God  forbid  I  suld  cast  out  wi' 
thee,  or  aught  that  is  dear  to  thee  !"  And  he  put  on  his 
Sunday's  coat  and  came  to  the  manse  accordingly. 

With  her  husband,  Mrs.  Butler  had  a  more  direct  con- 
ciliatory process.  Reuben  had  the  utmost  respect  for  the 
old  man's  motives,  and  affection  for  his  person,  as  well  as 
gratitude  for  his  early  friendship  ;  so  that,  upon  any  such 
occasion  of  accidental  irritation,  it  was  only  necessary  to 
remind  him  with  delicacy  of  his  father-in-law's  age,  of  his 


462  WA  VERLEY  NO VELS 

scanty  education,  strong  prejudices,  and  family  distresses. 
The  least  of  these  considerations  always  inclined  Butler  to 
measures  of  conciliation,  in  so  far  as  he  could  accede  to 
them  without  compromising  principle  ;  and  thus  our  simple 
and  unpretending  heroine  had  the  merit  of  those  peace- 
makers to  whom  it  is  pronounced  as  a  benediction  that  they 
shall  inherit  the  earth. 

The  second  crook  in  Mrs.  Butler's  lot,  to  use  the  language 
of  her  father,  was  the  distressing  circumstance  that  she  had 
never  heard  of  her  sister's  safety,  or  of  the  circumstances 
in  which  she  found  herself,  though  betwixt  four  and  five 
years  had  elapsed  since  they  had  parted  on  the  beach  of  the 
island  of  Roseneath.  Frequent  intercourse  was  not  to  be 
expected — not  to  be  desired,  perhaps,  in  their  relative  situa- 
tions ;  but  Effie  had  promised  that,  if  she  lived  and  pros- 
pered, her  sister  should  hear  from  her.  She  must  then  be 
no  more,  or  sunk  into  some  abyss  of  misery,  since  she  had 
never  redeemed  her  pledge.  Her  silence  seemed  strange  and 
portentous,  and  wrung  from  Jeanie,  who  could  never  forget 
the  early  years  of  their  intimacy,  the  most  painful  anticipa- 
tion concerning  her  fate.  At  length,  however,  the  veil  was 
drawn  aside. 

One  day,  as  the  Captain  of  Knockdunder  had  called  in  at 
tlie  manse,  on  his  return  from  some  business  in  the  High- 
land part  of  the  parish,  and  had  been  accommodated,  accord- 
ing to  his  special  request,  with  a  mixture  of  milk,  brandy, 
honey,  and  water,  which  he  said  Mrs.  Butler  compounded 
''petter  than  ever  a  woman  in  Scotland" — for  in  all  inno- 
cent matters  she  studied  the  taste  of  every  one  around  her — 
he  said  to  Butler,  "  Py  the  py,  minister,  I  have  a  letter  here 
either  for  your  canny  pody  of  a  wife  or  you,  which  I  got 
when  I  was  last  at  Glasco  ;  the  postage  comes  to  fourpence, 
which  you  may  either  pay  me  forthwith,  or  give  me  tooble 
or  quits  in  a  hit  at  packcammon.*' 

The  playing  at  backgammon  and  draughts  had  been  a 
frequent  amusement  of  Mr.  Whackbairn,  Butler's  principal, 
when  at  Liberton  school.  The  minister,  therefore,  still 
piqued  himself  on  his  skill  at  both  games,  and  occasionally 
practised  them,  as  strictly  canonical,  although  David  Deans, 
whose  notions  of  every  kind  were  more  rigorous,  used  to 
shake  his  head  and  groan  grievously  when  he  espied  the 
tables  lying  in  the  parlor,  or  the  children  playing  with  the 
dice-boxes  or  backgammon  men.  Indeed,  Mrs.  Butler  was 
sometimes  chidden  for  removing  these  implements  of  pas- 
time into  some  closet  or  corner  out  of  sight.     *'  Let  them 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  463 

be  where  they  are,  Jeanie,"  would  Butler  say  upon  such 
occasions  ;  •'  I  am  not  conscious  of  following  this  or  any 
other  trifling  relaxation  to  the  interruption  of  my  more 
serious  studies  and  still  more  serious  duties.  I  will  not, 
therefore,  have  it  supposed  that  I  am  indulging  by  stealth, 
and  against  my  conscience,  in  an  amusement  which,  using 
it  so  little  as  I  do,  I  may  well  practise  openly,  and  without 
any  check  of  mind.  Nil  conscire  sihi,  Jeanie,  that  is  my 
motto  ;  which  signifies,  my  love,  the  honest  and  open  con- 
fidence which  a  man  ought  to  entertain  when  he  is  acting 
openly,  and  without  any  sense  of  doing  wrong." 

Such  being  Butler's  humor,  he  accepted  the  Captain's  de- 
fiance to  a  twopenny  hit  at  backgammon,  and  handed  the 
letter  to  his  wife,  observing,  "the  post-mark  was  York,  but 
if  it  came  from  her  friend  Mrs.  Bickerton,  she  had  consid- 
erably improved  her  handwriting,  which  was  uncommon 
at  her  years." 

Leaving  the  gentlemen  to  their  game,  Mrs.  Butler  went 
to  order  something  for  supper,  for  Captain  Duncan  had  pro- 
posed kindly  to  stay  the  night  with  them,  and  then  care- 
lessly broke  open  her  letter.  It  was  not  from  Mrs.  Bicker- 
ton,  and,  after  glancing  over  the  first  few  lines,  she  soon 
found  it  necessary  to  retire  into  her  own  bedroom,  to  read 
the  document  at  leisure. 


CHAPTEE  XLVIII. 

Happy  thou  art !  then  happy  be, 

Noi'  envy  me  my  lot ; 
Thy  happy  state  I  envj-  thee, 

And  peaceful  cot. 

Lady  Charlotte  Campbell. 

The  letter,  wliicli  Mrs.  Butler,  when  retired  into  her  own 
apartment,  perused  with  anxious  wonder,  was  certainly 
from  Effie,  although  it  had  no  other  signature  than  the 
letter  E. ;  and  although  the  orthography,  style,  and  pen- 
manship were  very  far  superior  not  only  to  anything  which 
Effie  could  produce,  who,  though  a  lively  girl,  had  been  a 
remarkably  careless  scholar,  but  even  to  her  more  consider- 
ate sister's  own  powers  of  composition  and  expression. 
The  manuscript  was  a  fair  Italian  hand,  though  something 
stiff  and  constrained  ;  the  spelling  and  the  diction  that  of  a 
person  who  had  been  accustomed  to  read  good  composition, 
and  mix  in  good  society. 

The  tenor  of  the  letter  was  as  follows  : — 

^'  My  dearest  Sister, 

"  At  many  risks  I  venture  to  write  to  you,  to  inform 
you  that  I  am  still  alive,  and,  as  to  worldly  situation,  that  I 
rank  higher  than  I  could  expect  or  merit.  If  wealth  and 
distinction,  and  an  honorable  rank  could  make  a  woman 
happy,  I  have  them  all  ;  but  you,  Jeanie,  whom  the  world 
might  think  placed  far  beneath  me  in  all  these  respects, 
are  far  happier  than  I  am.  I  have  had  means  of  hearing  of 
your  welfare,  my  dearest  Jeanie,  from  time  to  time;  I  think 
I  should  have  broken  my  heart  otherwise.  I  have  learned 
with  great  pleasure  of  your  increasing  family.  We  have 
not  been  worthy  of  such  a  blessing  ;  two  infants  have  been 
successively  removed,  and  we  are  now  childless — God's  will 
be  done  !  But  if  we  had  a  child  it  would  perhaps  divert 
him  from  the  gloomy  thoughts  which  make  him  terrible  to 
himself  and  others.  Yet  do  not  let  me  frighten  you,  Jeanie, 
he  continues  to  be  kind,  and  I  am  far  better  off  than  I  de- 
serve. You  will  wonder  at  my  better  scholarship  ;  but 
when  I  was  abroad  I  had  the  best  teachers,  and  I  worked 
hard  because  my  progress  pleased  him.     He  is  kind,  Jeanie, 

464 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  46& 

only  he  has  much  to  distress  him,  especially  when  he  looks 
backward.  When  I  look  backward  myself  I  have  always  a 
ray  of  comfort ;  it  is  in  the  generous  conduct  of  a  sister  who 
forsook  me  not  when  I  was  forsaken  by  every  one.  You 
have  had  your  reward.  You  live  happy  in  the  esteem  and 
love  of  all  who  know  you,  and  I  drag  on  the  life  of  a  miser- 
able impostor,  indebted  for  the  marks  of  regard  T  receive  to 
a  tissue  of  deceit  and  lies,  which  the  slightest  accident  may 
unravel.  He  has  produced  me  to  his  friends,  since  the 
estate  opened  to  him,  as  the  daughter  of  a  Scotchman  of 
rank,  banished  on  account  of  the  Viscount  of  Dundee's  wars 
— that  is  our  Fr's  old  friend  Clavers,  you  know — and  he 
says  I  was  educated  in  a  Scotch  convent ;  indeed,  I  lived  in 
such  a  place  long  enough  to  enable  me  to  support  the  char- 
acter. But  when  a  countryman  approaches  me,  and  begins 
to  talk,  as  they  all  do,  of  the  various  families  engaged  in 
Dundee's  affair,  and  to  make  inquiries  into  my  connections, 
and  when  I  see  his  eye  bent  on  mine  with  such  an  expres- 
sion of  agony,  my  terror  brings  me  to  the  very  risk  of  de- 
tection. Good-nature  and  politeness  have  hitherto  saved 
me,  as  they  prevented  people  from  pressing  ou  me  witli  dis- 
tressing questions.  But  how  long — 0  how  long  will  this  be 
the  case  !  And  if  I  bring  this  disgrace  on  him,  he  will  hate 
me ;  he  will  kill  me,  for  as  much  as  he  loves  me  ;  he  is  as 
jealous  of  his  family  honor  now  as  ever  he  was  careless 
about  it.  1  have  been  in  England  four  months,  and  have 
often  thought  of  writing  to  you  ;  and  yet  such  are  the  dan- 
gers that  might  arise  from  an  intercepted  letter  that  I  have 
hitherto  forborne.  But  now  I  am  obliged  to  run  the  risk. 
Last  week  I  saw  your  great  friend,  the  D.  of  A.  He  came 
to  my  box,  and  sate  by  me  ;  and  something  in  the  jolay  put 
him  in  mind  of  you.  Gracious  Heaven  !  he  told  over  your 
whole  London  journey  to  all  who  were  in  the  box,  but  par- 
ticularly to  the  wretched  creature  who  was  the  occasion  of 
it  all.  If  he  had  known — if  he  could  have  conceived,  be- 
side whom  he  was  sitting,  and  to  whom  the  story  was  told  ! 
I  suffered  with  courage,  like  an  Indian  at  the  stake,  while 
they  are  rending  his  fibers  and  boring  his  eyes,  and  while  he 
smiles  applause  at  each  well-imagined  contrivance  of  his 
torturers.  It  was  too  much  for  me  at  last,  Jeanie  :  I 
fainted  ;  and  my  agony  was  imputed  partly  to  the  heat  of 
the  place,  and  partly  to  my  extreme  sensibility  ;  and,  hypo- 
crite all  over,  I  encouraged  both  opinions — anything  but 
discovery  !  Luckily  he  was  not  there.  But  the  incident 
has  led  to  more  alarms.     I  am  obliged  to  meet  your  great 

-HO 


486  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

man  often  ;  and  lie  seldom  sees  me  without  talking  of  E.  D. 
and  J.  D.,  and  R.  B.  and  D.  D.,  as  persons  in  whom  my 
amiable  sensibility  is  interested.  My  amiable  sensibility  !  !  ! 
And  then  the  cruel  tone  of  light  indifference  with  which 
persons  in  the  fashionable  world  speak  together  on  the 
most  affecting  subjects  !  To  hear  my  guilt,  my  folly,  my 
agony,  the  foibles  and  weaknesses  of  my  friends,  even  your 
heroic  exertions,  Jeanie,  spoken  of  in  the  drolling  style 
which  is  the  present  tone  in  fashionable  life  !  Scarce  all 
that  I  formerly  endured  is  equal  to  this  state  of  irritation  : 
then  it  was  blows  and  stabs  ;  now  it  is  pricking  to  death 
with  needles  and  pins.  He — I  mean  the  D. — goes  down 
next  month  to  spend  the  shooting-season  in  Scotland.  He 
says  he  makes  a  point  of  always  dining  one  day  at  the 
manse  ;  be  on  your  guard,  and  do  not  betray  yourself,  should 
he  mention  me.  Yourself — alas  !  yo7C  have  nothing  to  be- 
tray— nothing  to  fear  ;  you,  the  pure,  the  virtuous,  the 
heroine  of  unstained  faith,  unblemished  purity,  what  can 
you  have  to  fear  from  the  world  or  its  proudest  minions  ? 
It  is  E.  whose  life  is  once  more  in  your  hands  ;  it  is  E. 
whom  you  are  to  save  from  being  plucked  of  her  borrowed 
plumes,  discovered,  branded,  and  trodden  down — first  by 
him,  perhaps,  who  has  raised  her  to  this  dizzy  pinnacle. 
The  inclosure  will  reach  you  twice  a-year.  Do  not  refuse 
it ;  it  is  out  of  my  own  allowance,  and  may  be  twice  as 
much  when  you  want  it.  With  you  it  may  do  good  ;  with 
me  it  never  can. 

"  Write  to  me  soon,  Jeanie,  or  I  shall  remain  in  the 
agonizing  apprehension  that  this  has  fallen  into  wrong  hands. 
Address  simply  to  "  L.  S.,"  under  cover  to  the  Eeverend 
George  Whiterose,  in  the  Minster  Close,  York.  He  thinks 
I  correspond  with  some  of  my  noble  Jacobite  relations  who 
are  in  Scotland.  How  High  Church  and  Jacobitical  zeal 
would  burn  in  his  cheeks  if  he  knew  he  was  the  agent,  not 
of  Euphemia  Setoun,  of  the  honorable  house  of  Winton, 
but  of  E.  D.,  daughter  of  a  Cameronian  cow-feeder  I 
Jeanie,  I  can  laugh  yet  sometimes — but  God  protect  you 
from  such  mirth.  My  father — I  mean  your  father — 
would  say  it  was  like  the  idle  crackling  of  thorns  ;  but 
the  thorns  keep  their  poignancy,  they  remain  unconsumed. 
Farewell,  my  dearest  Jeanie.  Do  not  show  this  even  to 
Mr.  Butler,  much  less  to  any  one  else.  I  have  every  re- 
spect for  him  ;  but  his  principles  are  over  strict,  and  my 
case  will  not  endure  severe  handling. — I  rest  your  affection* 
ate  sister,  E." 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  4fi\ 

In  this  long  letter  there  was  much  to  surprise  as  well  as 
distress  Mrs.  Butler.  That  Effie — her  sister  Effie  should  be 
mingling  freely  in  society,  and  apparently  on  not  unequal 
terms  with  the  Duke  of  Argyle,  sounded  like  something  so 
extraordinary  that  she  even  doubted  if  she  read  truly. 
Nor  was  it  less  marvelous  that,  in  the  space  of  four  years, 
her  education  should  have  made  such  progress.  Jeanie's 
humility  readily  allowed  that  Effie  had  always,  when  she 
chose  it,  been  smarter  at  her  book  than  she  herself  was  , 
but  then  she  was  very  idle,  and,  upon  the  whole,  had  made 
much  less  proficiency.  Love,  or  fear,  or  necessity,  how- 
ever, had  proved  an  able  schoolmistress,  and  completely 
supplied  all  her  deficiencies. 

What  Jeanie  least  liked  in  the  tone  of  the  letter  was  a 
smothered  degree  of  egotism.  "  We  should  have  heard 
little  about  her/'  said  Jeanie  to  herself,  "  but  that  she  was 
feared  the  Duke  might  come  to  learn  wha  she  was,  and  a* 
about  her  puir  friends  here  ;  but  Effe,  puir  thing,  aye  looks 
her  ain  way,  and  folk  that  do  that  think  mair  o'  them- 
selves than  of  their  neighbors.  I  am  no  clear  about  keep- 
ing her  siller/'  she  added,  taking  up  a  £50  note  which  had 
fallen  out  of  the  paper  to  tlie  floor.  "  We  hae  eneugh,  and 
it  looks  unco  like  theft-boot,  or  hush-money,  as  they  ca* 
it :  she  might  hae  bee7i  sure  that  I  wad  say  naething  wad 
harm  her,  for  a'  the  gowd  in  Lunnon.  And  I  maun  tell  the 
minister  about  it.  1  diuna  see  that  she  suld  be  sae  feared 
for  her  ain  bonny  bargain  o'  a  gudeman,  and  that  I  shouldna 
reverence  Mr.  Butler  just  as  much  ;  and  sae  I'll  e'en  tell 
him  when  that  tippling  body,  the  Captain,  has  ta'en  boat 
in  the  morning.  But  I  wonder  at  my  ain  state  of  mind,'* 
she  added,  turning  back,  after  she  had  made  a  step  or  two 
to  the  door  to  join  the  gentlemen  ;  "  surely  I  am  no  sic  a 
f  ule  as  to  be  angry  that  Effie's  a  braw  lady,  while  I  am  only 
a  minister^'s  wife  ?  and  yet  I  am  as  petted  as  a  bairn,  when 
I  should  bless  God,  that  has  redeemed  her  from  shame,  and 
poverty,  and  guilt,  as  ower  likely  she  might  hae  been 
plunged  into." 

Sitting  down  upon  a  stool  at  the  foot  of  the  bed,  she 
folded  her  arras  upon  her  bosom,  saying  within  herself, 
**  From  this  place  will  I  not  rise  till  I  am  in  a  better  frame 
of  mind  ; "  and  so  placed,  by  dint  of  tearing  the  veil  from 
the  motives  of  her  little  temporary  spleen  against  her  sister, 
she  compelled  herself  to  be  ashamed  of  them,  and  to  view 
as  blessings  the  advantages  of  her  sister's  lot,  while  its  em- 
barrassments were  the  necessary  consequences  of  errors  long 


i68  WAVERLEV  NOVELS 

since  committed.  And  thus  she  fairly  vanquished  the  feel- 
ing of  pique  which  she  naturally  enough  entertained  at  see- 
ing Effie,  so  long  the  object  of  her  care  and  her  pity,  soar 
suddenly  so  high  above  her  in  life  as  to  reckon  amongst  the 
chief  objects  of  her  apprehension  the  risk  of  their  relation- 
ship being  discovered. 

When  this  unwonted  burst  of  amour  propre  was  thor- 
oughly subdued,  she  walked  down  to  the  little  parlor  where 
the  gentlemen  were  finishing  their  game,  and  heard  from 
the  Captain  a  confirmation  of  the  news  intimated  in  her 
letter,  that  the  Duke  of  Argyle  was  shortly  expected  at 
Eoseneath. 

*' He'll  find  plenty  of  moor-fowls  and  plack-cock  on  the 
moors  of  Auchingower,  and  he^ll  pe  nae  doubt  for  taking 
a  late  dinner  and  a  ped  at  the  manse,  as  he  has  done  pefore 
now.^' 

"'  He  has  a  gude  right.  Captain."  said  Jeanie. 

"  Teil  ane  petter  to  ony  ped  in  the  kintra/'  answered  tht 
Captain.  ''  And  ye  had  petter  tell  your  father,  puir  body, 
to  get  his  beasts  a'  in  order,  and  put  his  tamn^d  Camer- 
onian  nonsense  out  o'  his  head  for  twa  or  three  days,  if  he 
can  pe  so  opliging  ;  for  fan  I  speak  to  him  apout  prute 
pestial,  he  answers  me  out  o'  the  Pible,  whilk  is  not  using 
a  shentleman  weel,  unless  it  be  a  person  of  your  cloth,  Mr. 
Putler." 

No  one  understood  better  than  Jeanie  the  merit  of  the 
soft  answer  which  turneth  away  wrath;. and  she  only 
smiled,  and  hoped  that  his  Grace  would  find  everything  that 
was  under  her  father's  care  to  his  entire  satisfaction. 

But  the  Captain,  who  had  lost  the  whole  postage  of  the 
letter  at  backgammon,  was  in  the  pouting  mood  not  un- 
usual to  losers,  and  whicli,  says  the  proverb,  must  be 
allowed  to  them. 

"  And,  Master  Putler,  though  you  know  T  never  meddle 
with  the  things  of  your  kirk-sessions,  yet  I  must  be  allowed 
to  say  that  I  will  not  pe  pleased  to  allow  Ailie  MacClure  of 
Deepheugh  to  be  poonished  as  a  witch,  in  respect  she  only 
spaes  fortunes,  and  does  not  lame,  or  plind,  orpedevil  any 
persons,  or  coup  cadgers'  carts,  or  ony  sort  of  mischief  ;  put 
only  tells  people  good  fortunes,  as  anent  our  poats  killing 
so  many  seals  and  doug-fishes.  whilk  is  very  pleasant  to  hear." 

"  The  woman."  said  Butler,  '*  is,  I  believe,  no  witch, 
but  a  cheat  ;  and  it  is  only  on  that  head  that  she  is  sum- 
moned to  the  kirk-session,  to  cause  her  to  desist  in  future 
from  practising  her  impostures  upon  ignorant  persons." 


THE  HE  ART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  469 

**  I  do  not  know/'  replied  the  gracious  Duncan,  **  what 
her  practices  or  her  postures  are,  but  I  pelieve  that  if  the 
poys  take  hould  on  her  to  duck  lier  in  the  clachan  purn, 
it  will  be  a  very  sorry  practise  ;  and  I  pelieve,  moreover, 
that  if  I  come  in  thirdsman  among  you  at  the  kirk-sessions, 
you  will  be  all  in  a  tamn'd  pad  posture  indeed." 

Without  noticing  this  threat,  Mr.  Butler  replied,  "  That 
he  had  not  attended  to  the  risk  of  ill-usage  which  the  poor 
woman  might  undergo  at  the  hands  of  the  rabble,  and  that 
he  would  give  her  the  necessary  admonition  in  private,  in- 
stead of  bringing  her  before  the  assembled  session." 

^' This,"  Duncan  said,  "was  speaking  like  a  reasonable 
shentleman  ;"  and  so  the  evening  passed  peaceably  oif. 

Next  morning,  after  the  Captain  had  swallowed  his  morn- 
ing draught  of  Athole  bros?,  and  departed  in  his  coach  and 
six,  Mrs.  Butler  anew  deliberated  upon  communicating  to 
her  husband  her  sister's  letter.  But  she  was  deterred  by  the 
recollection  that,  in  doing  so,  she  Avould  unveil  to  him  the 
whole  of  a  dreadful  secret,  of  which,  perhaps,  his  public 
character  might  render  him  an  unfit  depository.  Butler 
already  had  reason  to  believe  that  Effie  liad  eloped  with 
that  same  Eobertson  who  had  been  a  leader  in  the  Porteous 
mob,  and  who  lay  under  sentence  of  death  for  the  robbery 
at  Kirkcaldy.  But  he  did  not  know  his  identity  with 
George  Staunton,  a  man  of  birth  and  fortune,  who  had  now 
apparently  reassumed  his  natural  rank  in  society.  Jeanie  had 
respected  Staiin ton's  own  confession  as  sacred,  and  upon 
reflection  she  considered  the  letter  of  her  sister  as  equally 
so,  and  resolved  to  mention  the  contents  to  no  one. 

On  reperusing  the  letter,  she  could  not  help  observing  the 
staggering  and  unsatisfactory  condition  of  those  who  have 
risen  to  distinction  by  undue  jjaths,  and  the  outworks  and 
bulwarks  of  fiction  and  falsehood  by  which  they  are  under 
the  necessity  of  surrounding  and  defending  their  precarious 
advantages.  But  she  was  not  called  upon,  she  thought  to 
unveil  her  sister's  original  history  :  it  would  restore  no  right 
to  any  one,  for  she  was  usurping  none  ;  it  would  only  de- 
stroy her  happiness,  and  degrade  her  in  the  public  estimation. 
Had  she  been  wise,  Jeanie  thought  she  would  have  chosen 
seclusion  and  privacy,  in  place  of  public  life  and  gaiety  ; 
but  the  power  of  choice  might  not  be  hers.  The  money, 
she  thought,  could  not  be  returned  without  her  seeming 
haughty  and  unkind.  She  resolved,  therefore,  upon  recon- 
sidering this  point,  to  employ  it  as  occasion  should  serve, 
either  in  educating  her  children  better  than  her  own  means 


470  WA  VERLET  NOVELS 

coiild  compass,  or  for  their  future  portion.  Her  sister  had 
enough,  was  strongly  bound  to  assist  Jeanie  by  any  means 
in  her  power,  and  the  arrangement  was  so  natural  and  proper, 
that  it  ought  not  to  be  declined  out  of  fastidious  or  romantic 
delicacy.  Jeanie  accordingly  wrote  to  her  sister,  acknowledg- 
ing her  letter,  and  requesting  to  hear  from  her  as  often 
as  she  could.  In  entering  into  her  own  little  details  of  news, 
chiefly  respecting  domestic  affairs,  she  experienced  a  sin- 
gular vacillation  of  ideas  ;  for  sometimes  she  apologized  for 
mentioning  things  unworthy  the  notice  of  a  lady  of  rank, 
and  then  recollected  that  everything  which  concerned  her 
should  be  interesting  to  Effie.  Her  letter,  under  the  cover 
of  Mr.  Whiterose,  she  committed  to  the  post-office  at  Glas- 
gow, by  the  intervention  of  a  parishioner  who  had  business 
at  that  city. 

The  next  week  brought  the  Duke  to  Roseneath,  and 
shortly  afterwards  he  intimated  his  intention  of  sporting  in 
their  neighborhood,  and  taking  his  bed  at  the  manse  ;  an 
honor  which  he  had  once  or  twice  done  to  its  inmates  on 
former  occasions. 

Effie  proved  to  be  perfectly  right  in  her  anticipations. 
The  Duke  had  hardly  set  himself  down  at  Mrs.  Butler's 
right  hand,  and  taken  upon  himself  the  task  of  carving  the 
excellent  ''  barndoor  chucky,"  which  had  been  selected  as 
the  high  dish  upon  this  honorable  occasion,  before  he 
began  to  speak  of  Lady  Staunton  of  Willingham,  in  Lincoln- 
shire, and  the  great  noise  which  her  wit  and  beauty  made 
in  London.  For  much  of  this  Jeanie  was,  in  some  measure, 
prepared  ;  but  Effie's  wit !  that-  would  never  have  entered 
into  her  imagination,  being  ignorant  how  exactly  raillery  in 
the  higher  rank  resembles  flippancy  among  their  inferiors. 

"  She  has  been  the  ruling  belle — the  blazing  star — the 
universal  toast  of  the  winter,"  said  the  Duke  ;  "  and  is 
really  the  most  beautiful  creature  that  was  seen  at  court 
upon  the  birthday.'* 

The  birthday  !  and  at  court  !  Jeanie  was  annihilated, 
remembering  well  her  own  presentation,  all  its  extraordinary 
circumstances,  and  particularly  the  cause  of  it. 

"I  mention  this  lady  particularly  to  you,  Mrs.  Butler,'* 
said  the  Duke,  "  because  she  has  something  in  the  sound  of 
her  voice  and  cast  of  her  countenance  that  reminded  me  of 
you :  not  when  you  look  so  pale  though  ;  you  have  over- 
fatigued  yourself ;  you  must  pledge  me  in  a  glass  of 
wine." 

She  did  so,  and  Butler  observed,  **  It  was  dangerous  flat- 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  471 

fcery  in  his  Grace  to  tell  a  poor  minister's  wife  that  she  was 
like  a  court-beauty." 

"Oiio!  Mr.  Butler/'  said  the  Duke,  "I  find  you  are 
growing  jealous  ;  but  it's  rather  too  late  iu  the  day,  for  you 
know  how  long  1  have  admired  your  wife.  But  seriously, 
there  is  betwixt  them  one  of  those  inexplicable  likenesses 
which  we  see  in  countenances  that  do  not  otherwise  resemble 
each  other." 

'*  The  perilous  part  of  the  compliment  has  flown  off," 
thought  Mr.  Butler. 

His  wife,  feeling  the  awkwardness  of  silence,  forced  her- 
self to  say,  "That  perhaps  the  lady  might  be  her  country- 
woman, and  the  language  might  make  some  resemblance." 

"You  are  quite  right,"  replied  the  Duke.  "  Slie  is  a 
Scotchwoman,  and  speaks  with  a  Scotch  accent,  and  now 
and  then  a  provincial  word  drops  out  so  prettily  that  it  is 
quite  Doric,  Mr.  Butler." 

"  I  should  have  thought,"  said  the  clergyman,  *'  that 
would  have  sounded  vulgar  in  the  great  city." 

"'  Not  at  all,"  replied  the  Duke  ;  "  you  must  suppose  it  is 
not  the  broad  coarse  Scotch  that  is  spoken  in  the  Oowgate 
of  Edinburgh,  or  in  the  Gorbals.  This  lady  has  been  very 
little  in  Scotland,  in  fact.  She  was  educated  in  a  convent 
abroad,  and  speaks  that  pure  court-Scotch  which  was  common 
in  my  younger  days  ;  but  it  is  so  generally  disused  now,  that 
it  sounds  like  a  different  dialect,  entirely  distinct  from  our 
modern  patois." 

Notwithstanding  her  anxieties,  Jeanie  could  not  help  admir- 
ing within  herself,  how  the  most  correct  judges  of  life  and 
manners  can  be  imposed  on  by  their  own  preconceptions, 
while  the  Duke  proceeded  thus  :  "  She  is  of  the  unfortunate 
house  of  Winton,  I  believe  ;  but,  being  bred  abroad,  she  had 
missed  the  opportunity  of  learning  her  own  pedigree,  and 
was  obliged  to  me  for  informing  her  that  she  must  certainly 
come  of  the  Setouns  of  Windygoul.  I  wish  you  could  have 
seen  how  prettily  she  blushed  at  her  own  ignorance.  Amidst 
her  noble  and  elegant  manners,  there  is  now  and  then  a  little 
touch  of  bashfulness  and  conventual  rusticity,  if  I  may  call 
it  so,  that  makes  her  quite  enchanting.  You  see  at  once  the 
rose  that  had  bloomed  untouched  amid  the  chaste  precincts 
of  the  cloister,  Mr.  Butler." 

True  to  the  hint,  Mr.  Butler  failed  not  to  start  with  his 

"  Ut  flos  in  septis  secretvis  nascitur  hortis,"  etc. ; 
while  his  wife  could  hardly  persuade  herself  that  all  this  was 


472  WAVE  RLE  Y  NOVELS 

Bpoken  of  Efifie  Deans,  and  by  so  competent  a  judge  as  the 
Duke  of  Argjle  ;  and  had  she  been  acquainted  with  Catullus, 
would  have  thought  the  fortunes  of  her  sister  had  reversed 
the  whole  passage. 

She  was,  however,  determined  to  obtain  some  indemnifi- 
cation for  the  anxious  feelings  of  the  moment,  by  gaining  all 
the  intelligence  she  could  ;  and  therefore  ventured  to  make 
some  inquiry  about  the  husband  of  the  lady  his  Grace  ad- 
mired so  much. 

"  He  is  very  rich,"  replied  the  Duke  ;  "of  an  ancient 
family,  and  has  good  manners  ;  but  he  is  far  from  being  such 
a  general  favorite  as  his  wife.  Some  people  say  he  can  be  very 
pleasant.  I  never  saw  him  so  ;  but  should  rather  judge  him 
reserved,  and  gloomy,  and  capricious.  He  was  very  wild  in 
his  youth,  they  say,  and  has  bad  health  ;  yet  he  is  a  good- 
looking  man  enough— a  great  friend  of  your  Lord  High 
Commissioner  of  the  Kirk,  Mr.  Butler.'* 

"  Then  he  is  the  friend  of  a  very  worthy  and  honorable 
nobleman,*'  said  Butler, 

*'  Does  he  admire  his  lady  as  much  as  other  people  do  ?  " 
said  Jeanie,  in  a  low  voice. 

"  Who — Sir  George  ?  They  say  he  is  very  fond  of  her,'* 
said  the  Duke  ;  '^  but  I  observe  she  trembles  a  little  when  he 
fixes  his  eye  on  her,  and  that  is  no  good  sign.  But  it  is 
strange  how  I  am  haunted  by  this  resemblance  of  yours  to 
Lady  Staunton,  in  look  and  tone  of  voice.  One  would  almost 
swear  you  were  sisters." 

Jeanie's  distress  became  uncontrollable,  and  beyond  con- 
cealment. The  Duke  of  Argyle  was  much  disturbed,  good- 
naturedly  ascribing  it  to  his  having  unwittingly  recalled  to 
her  reTuembrance  her  family  misfortunes.  He  was  too  well- 
bred  to  attempt  to  apologize  ;  but  hastened  to  change  the 
subject,  and  arrange  certain  points  of  dispute  which  had 
occurred  betwixt  Duncan  of  Knock  and  the  minister,  ac- 
knowledging that  his  worthy  substitute  was  sometimes  a 
little  too  obstinate,  as  well  as  too  energetic,  in  his  executive 
measures. 

Mr.  Butler  admitted  his  general  merits;  but  said,  "He 
would  presume  to  apply  to  the  worthy  gentleman  the  words 
of  the  poet  to  Marrucinus  Asinius, 

Manu  .  .  . 
Non  belle  uteris  in  joco  atcue  vino.' 

The  discourse  being  thus  turned  on  parish  business, 
nothing  farther  occurred  that  can  interest  the  reader. 


CHAPTER  XLIX 

Upon  my  head  they  placcvl  a  fruitless  crown. 
And  put  a  barren  scepter  in  my  gripe, 
Thence  to  be  wrench'd  by  an  unlineal  hand. 
No  son  of  mine  succeeding. 

Macbeth. 

A.FTER  this  period,  but  under  the  most  strict  precautions 
against  discovery,  the  sisters  corresponded  occasionally,  ex- 
changing letters  about  twice  every  year.  Those  of  Lady 
Staunton  spoke  of  her  husband's  health  and  spirits  as  being 
deplorably  uncertain  ;  her  own  seemed  also  to  be  sinking, 
and  one  of  the  topics  on  which  she  most  frequently  dwelt 
was  their  want  of  family.  Sir  George  Staunton,  always  vio- 
lent, had  taken  some  aversion  at  the  next  heir,  whom  he 
susjiected  of  having  irritated  his  friends  against  him  during 
his  absence ;  and  he  declared,  he  would  bequeath  Dilling- 
ham and  all  its  lands  to  an  hospital,  ere  that  fetch-and- 
carry  tell-tale  should  inherit  an  acre  of  it. 

"Had  he  but  a  child/' said  the  unfortunate  wife,  **or 
had  that  luckless  infant  survived,  it  would  be  some  motive 
for  living  and  for  exertion.  But  Heaven  has  denied  us  a 
blessing  which  we  have  not  deserved." 

Such  complaints,  in  varied  form,  but  turning  frequently 
on  the  same  topic,  filled  the  letters  which  passed  from  the 
spacious  but  melancholy  halls  of  Willingham  to  the  quiet 
and  happy  parsonage  at  Knocktarlitie.  Years  meanwhile 
rolled  on  amid  these  fruitless  repinings.  John  Duke  of 
Argyle  and  Greenwich  died  in  the  year  1743,  universally 
lamented,  but  by  none  more  than  by  the  Butlers,  to  whom 
his  benevolence  had  been  so  distinguished.  He  was  suc- 
ceeded by  his  brother  Duke  Archibald,  with  whom  they  had 
not  the  same  intimacy  ;  but  who  continued  the  protection 
which  his  brother  had  extended  towards  them.  This,  in- 
deed, became  more  necessary  than  ever  ;  for,  after  the  break- 
ing out  and  suppression  of  the  rebellion  in  1745,  the  j)eace 
of  the  country  adjacent  to  the  Highlands  was  considerably 
disturbed.  Marauders,  or  men  that  had  been  driven  to  that 
desperate  mode  of  life,  quartered  themselves  in  the  fast- 
nesses nearest  to  the  Lowlands,  which  were  their  scene  of 
plunder  ;  and  there  is  scarce  a  glen  in  the  romantic  and 

473 


474  WAV ERLEY  NOVELS 

now  peaceable  Highlands  of  Perth,  Stirling,  and  Dunbar- 
tonshire where  one  or  more  did  not  take  up  their  residence. 

The  prime  jiest  of  the  parish  of  Knoclvtarlitie  was  a  cer- 
tain Donacha  Dhu  na  Dunaigh,  or  Black  Duncan  the  Mis- 
chievous, whom  we  have  already  casually  mentioned.  This 
fellow  had  been  originally  a  tinkler  or  "  caird,"  many  of 
whom  stroll  about  these  districts  ;  but  when  all  police  was 
disorganized  by  the  civil  war,  he  threw  up  his  profession, 
and  from  half  thief  became  whole  robber ;  and  being  gen- 
erally at  the  head  of  three  or  four  active  young  fellows,  and 
he  himself  artful,  bold,  and  well  acquainted  with  the  passes, 
he  plied  his  new  profession  with  emolument  to  himself  and 
infinite  plague  to  the  country. 

All  were  convinced  that  Duncan  of  Knock  could  have  put 
down  his  namesake  Donacha  any  morning  he  had  a  mind  ; 
for  there  were  in  the  parish  a  set  of  stout  young  men  who 
had  joined  Argyle's  banner  in  the  war  under  his  old  friend, 
and  behaved  very  well  upon  several  occasions.  And  as  for 
their  leader,  as  no  one  doubted  his  courage,  it  was  gen- 
erally supposed  that  Donacha  had  found  out  the  mode  of 
conciliating  his  favor,  a  thing  not  very  uncommon  in  that 
age  and  country.  This  was  the  more  readily  believed,  as 
David  Deans's  cattle,  being  the  property  of  the  Duke,  were 
left  untouched,  when  the  minister's  cows  were  carried  oif 
by  the  thieves.  Another  attempt  was  made  to  renew  the 
same  act  of  rapine,  and  the  cattle  Vv^ere  in  the  act  of  being 
driven  off,  when  Butler,  laying  his  profession  aside  in  a 
case  of  such  necessity,  put  himself  at  the  head  of  some  of 
his  neighbors,  and  rescued  the  creagh  ;  an  exploit  at  which 
Deans  attended  in  person,  notwithstanding  his  extreme  old 
ago,  mounted  on  a  Highland  pony,  and  girded  with  an  old 
broadsword,  likening  himself  (for  he  failed  not  to  arrogate 
the  whole  merit  of  the  expedition)  to  David  the  son  of 
Jesse,  when  he  recovered  the  spoil  of  Ziklag  from  the 
Amalekites.  This  spirited  behavior  had  so  far  a  good  effect, 
that  Donacha  Dhu  da  Dunaigh  kept  his  distance  for  some 
time  to  come  ;  and,  though  his  distant  exploits  were  fre- 
quently spoken  of,  he  did  not  exercise  any  depredations  in 
that  part  of  the  country.  He  continued  to  flourish,  and  to 
be  heard  of  occasionally,  until  the  year  1751,  when,  if  the 
fear  of  the  second  David  had  kept  him  in  check,  fate  re- 
leased him  from  that  restraint,  for  the  venerable  patriarch 
of  St.  Leonard's  was  that  year  gathered  to  his  fathers. 

David  Deans  died  full  of  years  and  of  honor.     He  is  be- 
lieved, for  the  exact  time  of  his  birth  is  not  known,  to  have 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  475 

lived  upwards  of  ninety  years  ;  for  he  used  to  speak  of  events 
as  falling  under  his  own  knowledge  which  happened  about 
the  time  of  the  battle  of  Bothweli  Bridge.  It  was  said  that 
he  even  bore  arms  there,  for  once,  when  a  drunken  Jacobite 
laird  wished  for  a  Bothweli  Brig  Whig,  that  "  he  might  stow 
the  lugs  out  of  his  head,''  David  informed  him  with  a  pecul- 
iar austerity  of  countenance  that,  if  he  liked  to  try  such  a 
prank,  there  was  one  at  his  elbow  ;  and  it  required  the  inter- 
ference of  Butler  to  preserve  the  peace. 

He  expired  in  the  arms  of  his  beloved  daughter,  thankful 
for  all  the  blessings  which  Providence  had  vouchsafed  to  him 
while  in  this  valley  of  strife  and  toil,  and  thankful  also  for 
the  trials  he  had  been  visited  with  ;  having  found  them,  he 
said,  needful  to  mortify  that  spiritual  pride  and  confidence  in 
his  own  gifts  which  was  the  side  on  which  the  wily  Enemy 
did  most  sorely  beset  him.  He  prayed  in  the  most  affecting 
manner  for  Jeanie,  her  husband,  and  her  family,  and  that 
her  affectionate  duty  to  "  the  puir  auld  man'*  might  pur- 
chase her  length  of  days  here  and  happiness  hereafter  ;  then 
in  a  pathetic  petition,  too  well  understood  by  those  who 
knew  his  family  circumstances,  he  besought  the  Shepherd  of 
souls,  while  gathering  His  flock,  not  to  forget  the  little  one 
that  had  strayed  from  the  fold,  and  even  then  might  be 
in  the  hands  of  the  ravening  wolf.  He  prayed  for  the 
national  Jerusalem,  that  peace  might  be  in  her  land  and  pros- 
perity in  her  palaces  ;  for  the  welfare  of  the  honorable  house 
of  Argyle,  and  for  the  conversion  of  Duncan  of  Knockdunder. 
After  this  he  was  silent,  being  exhausted,  nor  did  he  again 
utter  anything  distinctly.  He  was  heard,  indeed,  to  mutter 
something  about  national  defections,  right-hand  extremes, 
and  left-hand  fallings  off  ;  but  as  May  Hettly  observed,  his 
head  was  "  carried  "  at  the  time  ;  and  it  is  probable  that  these 
expressions  occurred  to  him  merely  out  of  general  habit,  and 
that  he  died  in  the  full  spirit  of  charity  with  all  men.  About 
an  hour  afterwards  he  slept  in  the  Lord. 

Notwithstanding  her  father's  advanced  age,  his  death  was 
a  severe  shock  to  Mrs.  Butler.  Much  of  her  time  had  been 
dedicated  to  attending  to  his  health  and  his  wishes,  and  she 
felt  as  if  part  of  her  business  in  the  world  was  ended  when  the 
good  old  man  was  no  more.  His  wealth,  which  came  nearly 
to  £1500,  in  disposable  capital,  served  to  raise  the  fortunes  of 
the  family  at  the  manse.  How  to  dispose  of  this  sum  for  the 
best  advantage  of  his  family  was  matter  of  anxious  consider- 
ation to  Butler. 

*'  If  we  put  it  on  heritable  bond,  we  shall  maybe  lose  the 


476  WA  VERLE  Y  N  O  VEL8 

interest ;  for  there's  that  bond  over  Louusbeck's  land,  your 
father  could  neither  get  principal  nor  interest  for  it.  If  we 
bring  it  into  the  funds,  we  shall  maybe  lose  the  principal 
and  all,  as  many  did  in  the  South  Sea  scheme.  The  little  es- 
tate of  Craigsture  is  in  the  market  ;  it  lies  within  two  miles 
of  the  manse,  and  Knock  says  his  Grace  has  no  thought  to 
buy  it.  But  they  ask  £2500,  and  they  may,  for  it  is  worth 
the  money  ;  and  were  I  to  borrow  the  balance,  the  creditor 
might  call  it  up  suddenly,  or  in  case  of  my  death  my  family 
might  be  distressed." 

"  And  so,  if  we  had  mair  siller,  we  might  buy  that  bonny 
pasture-ground,  where  the  grass  comes  so  early  ? "  asked 
Jeanie. 

"  Certainly,  my  dear ;  and  Knockdunder,  who  is  a  good 
judge,  is  strongly  advising  me  to  it.  To  be  sure  it  is  his 
nephew  that  is  selling  it." 

"  Aweel,  Reuben,"  said  Jeanie,  *'ye  maun  just  look  up  a 
text  in  Scripture,  as  ye  did  when  ye  wanted  siller  before. 
Just  look  up  a  text  in  the  Bible." 

"  Ah,  Jeanie,"  said  Butler,  laughing  and  pressing  her  hand 
at  the  same  time,  ''the  best  people  in  these  times  can  only 
work  miracles  once." 

"  We  will  see,"  said  Jeanie,  composedly  ;  and  going  to  the 
closet  in  which  she  kept  her  honey,  her  sugar,  her  pots  of 
jelly,  her  vials  of  the  more  ordinary  medicines,  and  which 
served  her,  in  short,  as  a  sort  of  store-room,  she  jangled  vials 
and  gallipots,  till,  from  out  the  darkest  nook,  well  flanked 
by  a  triple  row  of  bottles  and  jars,  which  she  was  under  the 
necessity  of  displacing,  she  brought  a  cracked  brown  can, 
with  a  piece  of  leather  tied  over  the  top.  Its  contents  seemed 
to  be  written  papers,  thrust  in  disorder  into  this  uncommon 
secretaire.  But  from  among  these  Jeanie  brought  an  old 
clasped  Bible,  which  had  been  David  Deans's  companion  in 
his  earlier  wanderings,  and  which  he  had  given  to  his  daugh- 
ter when  the  failure  of  his  eyes  had  compelled  him  to  use  one 
of  a  larger  print.  This  she  gave  to  Butler,  who  had  been 
looking  at  her  motions  with  some  surprise,  and  desired  him 
to  see  what  that  book  could  do  for  him.  He  opened  the 
clasps,  and  to  his  astonishment  a  parcel  of  £50  bank-notes 
dropped  out  from  betwixt  the  leaves,  where  they  had  been 
separately  lodged,  and  fluttered  upon  the  floor.  ''  I  didna 
think  to  hae  tauld  you  o'  my  wealth,  Eeuben,"  said  his  wife, 
smiling  at  his  surprise,  ''Hill  on  my  deathbed,  or  maybe  on 
some  family  pinch  ;  but  it  wad  be  better  laid  out  on  yon 
bonny  grass-holms,  than  lying  useless  here  iu  this  auld  pigg/' 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  411 

"  How  on  earth  came  ye  by  that  siller,  Jeanie  ?  Why, 
here  is  more  than  a  thousand  pounds,"  said  Butler,  lifting 
np  and  counting  the  notes. 

"  If  it  were  ten  thousand,  it^s  a'  honestly  come  by,"  said 
Jeanie  ;  "and  troth  I  kenna  liow  muckle  there  is  o't,  but 
it's  a'  there  that  ever  I  got.  And  as  for  how  I  came  by  it, 
Reuben — it's  weel  come  by  and  honestly,  as  I  said  before. 
And  it's  mair  folks'  secret  than  mine,  or  ye  wad  hae  kenn'd 
about  it  lang  syne  ;  and  as  for  ony  thing  else,  I  am  not  free 
to  answer  mair  questions  about  it,  and  ye  maun  just  ask  me 
nane." 

"  Answer  me  but  one,"  said  Butler,  "  Is  it  all  freely  and 
indisputably  your  own  property,  to  dispose  of  it  as  you  think 
fit  ?  Is  it  possible  no  one  has  a  claim  in  so  large  a  sum 
except  you  ?  " 

"  It  was  mine,  free  to  dispose  of  it  as  I  like,"  answered 
Jeanie  ;  "  and  I  have  disposed  of  it  already,  for  now  it  is 
yours,  Reuben.  You  are  Bible  Butler  now,  as  weel  as  your 
forbear,  that  my  puir  father  had  sic  an  ill-will  at.  Only,  if 
ye  like,  I  wad  wish  Femie  to  get  a  gude  share  o't  when  we 
are  gane." 

"  Certainly,  it  shall  be  as  you  choose.  But  who  on  earth 
ever  pitched  on  such  a  hiding-place  for  temporal  treasures  ?" 

"  That  is  just  ane  o'  my  auld-fashioned  gates,  as  you  ca' 
them,  Reuben.  I  thought,  if  DonachaDhu  was  to  make  an 
outbreak  upon  us,  the  Bible  was  the  last  thing  in  the  house 
he  wad  meddle  wi'.  But  an  ony  mair  siller  should  drap  in, 
as  it  is  not  unlikely,  I  shall  e'en  pay  it  ower  to  you,  and  ye 
may  lay  it  out  your  ain  way." 

"  And  I  positively  must  not  ask  you  how  you  have  come 
by  all  this  money  ?  "  said  the  clergyman. 

"Indeed,  Reuben,  you  mii3t  not  ;  for  if  you  were  asking 
me  very  sair  I  wad  maybe  tell  you,  and  then  I  am  sure  I 
would  do  wrong." 

"  But  tell  me,"  said  Butler,  *'  is  it  anything  that  distresses 
your  own  mind  ?  " 

"There  is  baith  weal  and  woe  come  aye  wi*  warld's  gear, 
Reuben  ;  but  ye  maun  ask  me  naething  mair.  This  siller 
binds  me  to  naething,  and  can  never  be  speered  back  again." 

"  Surely,"  said  Mr.  Butler,  when  he  had  again  counted 
over  the  money,  as  if  to  assure  himself  that  the  notes  were 
real,  "  there  was  never  man  in  the  world  had  a  wife  like 
mine  :  a  blessing  seems  to  follow  her." 

"Never,"  said  Jeanie,  "since  the  enchanted  Princess  in 
the  bairns'  fairy  tale,  that  kamed  gold  nobles  out  o'  the  tae 


478  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

side  of  her  haffit  locks  and  Dutch  dollars  out  o*  the  tether. 
But  gang  away  now,  minister,  and  put  by  the  siller,  and 
dinna  keep  the  notes  wampishing  in  your  hand  that  gate,  or 
I  shall  wish  them  in  the  brown  pigg  again,  for  fear  we  get  a 
back-cast  about  them  :  we're  ower  near  the  hills  in  these 
times  to  be  thought  to  hae  siller  in  the  house.  And,  besides, 
ye  maun  gree  wi"  Knockdunder,  that  has  the  selling  o'  the 
lands  ;  and  dinna  yon  be  simple  and  let  him  ken  o'  this 
windfa',  but  keep  him  to  the  very  lowest  penny,  as  if  ye  had 
to  borrow  siller  to  make  the  price  up." 

In  the  last  admonition  Jeanie  showed  distinctly  that,  al- 
though she  did  not  understand  how  to  secure  the  money 
which  came  into  her  hands  otherwise  than  by  saving  and 
hoarding  it,  yet  she  had  some  part  of  her  father  David's 
shrewdness,  even  upon  worldly  subjects.  And  Eeuben 
Butler  was  a  prudent  man,  and  went  and  did  even  as  his 
wife  had  advised  him. 

The  news  quickly  went  abroad  into  the  parish  that  the 
minister  had  bought  Craigsture  ;  and  some  wished  him  Joy, 
and  some  "were  sorry  it  had  gane  out  of  the  auld  name.*' 
However,  his  clerical  brethren,  understanding  that  he  was 
under  the  necessity  of  going  to  Edinburgh  about  the  ensuing 
Whitsunday,  to  get  together  David  Deans's  cash  to  make  up 
the  purchase-money  of  his  new  acquisition,  took  the  oppor- 
tunity to  name  him  their  delegate  to  the  General  Assembly, 
or  Convocation  of  the  Scottish  Church,  which  takes  place 
usually  in  the  latter  end  of  the  month  of  May. 


CHAPTER  L 

But  who  is  this  what  thing  of  sea  or  land- 
Female  of  sex  it  seems — 
That  so  bedeck'd,  ornate,  and  gay, 
Comes  this  way  sailing  ? 

MmTON. 

Not  long  after  the  incident  of  the  Bible  and  the  bank- 
notes.  Fortune  showed  that  she  could  surprise  Mrs.  Butler 
as  well  as  her  husband.  The  minister,  in  order  to  accomplish 
the  various  pieces  of  business  which  his  unwonted  visit  to 
Edinburgh  rendered  necessary,  had  been  under  the  necessity 
of  setting  out  from  home  in  the  latter  end  of  the  month  of 
February,  concluding  justly  that  he  would  find  the  space 
betwixt  his  departure  and  the  term  of  Whitsunday  (24th 
May)  short  enough  for  the  purpose  of  bringing  forward 
those  various  debtors  of  old  David  Deans  out  of  whose 
purses  a  considerable  part  of  the  price  of  his  new  purchase 
was  to  be  made  good. 

Jeanie  was  thus  in  the  unwonted  situation  of  inhabiting 
a  lonely  house,  and  she  felt  yet  more  solitary  from  the  death 
of  the  good  old  man,  who  used  to  divide  her  cares  with  her 
husband.  Her  children  were  her  principal  resource,  and  to 
them  sheypaid  constant  attention. 

It  happened,  a  day  or  two  after  Butler's  departure,  that, 
while  she  was  engaged  in  some  domestic  duties,  she  heard  a 
dispute  among  the  young  folks,  which,  being  maintained 
with  obstinacy,  appeared  to  call  for  her  interference.  All 
came  to  their  natural  umpire  with  their  complaints.  Femie, 
not  yet  ten  years  old,  charged  Davie  and  Reubie  with  an 
attempt  to  take  away  her  book  by  foi'ce  ;  and  David  and 
Eeuben  replied — the  elder,  "  That  it  was  not  a  book  for 
Femie  to  read,"  and  Eeuben,  ''That  it  was  about  a  bad 
woman." 

"Where  did  you  get  the  book,  ye  little  hempie  ?"  said 
Mrs.  Butler.  *'  How  dare  ye  touch  papa's  books  when  he 
IS  away  ?  " 

But  the  little  lady,  holding  fast  a  sheet  of  crumpled  paper, 
declared,  "  It  was  nane  o'  papa's  books,  and  May  Hettly  had 
taken  it  ofE  the  muckle  cheese  which  came  from  Inverara ;" 

479 


180  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

for,  as  was  very  natural  to  suppose,  a  friendly  intercourse, 
with  interchange  of  mutual  civilities,  was  kept  up  from  time 
to  time  between  Mrs.  Dolly  Dutton,  now  Mrs.  MacCorkin- 
dale,  and  her  former  friends. 

Jeanie  took  the  subject  of  contention  out  of  the  child's 
hand,  to  satisfy  herself  of  the  propriety  of  her  studies  ;  but 
how  much  was  she  struck  when  she  read  upon  the  title  of 
the  broadside  sheet,  "  The  Last  Speech,  Confession,  and 
Dying  Words  of  Margaret  Mac  Craw,  or  Murdockson,  ex- 
ecuted  on   Harabee    Hill,  near    Carlisle,   the — day  of , 

1737."  It  was,  indeed,  one  of  those  papers  which  Archibald 
had  bought  at  Longtown,  when  he  monopolized  the  pedler's 
stock,  which  Dolly  had  thrust  into  her  trunk  out  of  sheer 
economy.  One  or  two  copies,  it  seems,  had  remained  in  her 
repositories  at  Inverary,  till  she  changed  to  need  them  in 
packing  a  cheese,  which,  as  a  very  superior  production, 
was  sent  in  the  way  of  civil  challenge  to  the  dairy  at  Knock- 
tarlitie. 

The  title  of  this  paper,  so  strangely  fallen  into  the  very 
hands  from  which,  in  well-meant  respect  to  her  feelings,  it 
had  been  so  long  detained,  was  of  itself  sufficiently  startling  ; 
but  the  narrative  itself  was  so  interesting  that  Jeanie,  shak- 
ing herself  loose  from  the  children,  ran  upstairs  to  her  own 
apartment,  and  bolted  the  door,  to  peruse  it  without  interrup- 
tion. 

The  narrative,  which  appeared  to  have  been  drawn  up,  or 
at  least  corrected,  by  the  clergyman  who  attended  this  un- 
happy woman,  stated  the  crime  for  which  she  suffered  to 
have  been  "her  active  part  in  that  atrocious  robbery  and 
murder,  committed  near  two  years  since  near  Haltwhistle, 
for  which  the  notorious  Frank  Levitt  was  committed  for 
trial  at  Lancaster  assizes.  It  was  supposed  the  evidence  of 
the  accomplice,  Thomas  Tuck,  commonly  called  Tyburn 
Tom,  upon  which  the  woman  had  been  convicted,  would 
weigh  equally  heavy  against  him  ;  although  many  were  in- 
clined to  think  it  was  Tuck  himself  who  had  struck  the 
fatal  blow,  according  to  the  dying  statement  of  Meg  Mur- 
dockson." 

After  a  circumstantial  account  of  the  crime  for  which  she 
suffered,  there  was  a  brief  sketch  of  Margaret's  life.  It  was 
stated  that  she  was  a  Scotchwoman  by  birth,  and  married  a 
soldier  in  the  Camerouian  regiment ;  that  she  long  followed 
the  camp,  and  had  doubtless  acquired  in  fields  of  battle,  and 
similar  scenes,  that  ferocity  and  love  of  plunder  for  which 
she  had  been  afterwards  distinguished  ;  that  her  husband. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  48] 

having  obtained  his  discharge,  became  servant  to  a  beneficed 
clergyman  of  high  situation  and  character  in  Lincohishire, 
and  that  she  acquired  the  confidence  and  esteem  of  that 
honorable  family.  She  had  lost  this  many  years  after  her 
husband's  death,  it  was  stated,  in  consequence  of  conniving, 
at  the  irregularities  of  her  daughter  with  the  heir  of  the 
family,  added  to  the  suspicious  circumstances  attending  the 
birth  of  a  child,  which  was  strongly  suspected  to  have  met 
with  foul  jjlay,  in  order  to  preserve,  if  possible,  the  girl's 
reputation.  After  this,  she  had  led  a  Avandering  life  both 
in  England  and  Scotland,  under  color  sometimes  of  telling 
fortunes,  sometimes  of  driving  a  trade  in  smuggled  wares, 
but,  in  fact,  receiving  stolen  goods,  and  occasionally  actively 
joining  in  the  exploits  by  which  they  were  obtained.  Many 
of  her  crimes  she  had  boasted  of  after  conviction,  and  there 
was  one  circumstance  for  which  she  seemed  to  feel  a  mixture 
of  joy  and  occasional  compunction.  When  she  was  residing 
in  the  suburbs  of  Edinburgh  during  the  preceding  summer, 
a  girl,  who  had  been  seduced  by  one  of  her  confederates, 
was  entrusted  to  her  charge,  and  in  her  house  delivered  of 
a  male  infant.  Her  daughter,  whose  mind  was  in  a  state  of 
derangement  ever  since  she  had  lost  her  own  child,  accord- 
ing to  the  criminal's  account,  carried  off  the  poor  girl's 
infant,  taking  it  for  her  own,  of  the  reality  of  whose  death 
she  at  times  could  not  be  persuaded. 

Margaret  Murdockson  stated  that  she  for  some  time  be- 
lieved her  daughter  had  actually  destroyed  the  infant  in 
her  mad  fits,  and  that  she  gave  the  father  to  understand  so, 
but  afterwards  learned  that  a  female  stroller  had  got  it  from 
her.  She  showed  some  compunction  at  having  separated 
mother  and  child,  especially  as  the  mother  had  nearly  suffered 
death,  being  condemned,  on  the  Scottish  law,  for  the  sup- 
posed murder  of  her  infant.  When  it  was  asked  what  possible 
interest  she  could  have  had  in  exposing  the  unfortunate  girl 
to  suffer  for  a  crime  she  had  not  committed,  she  asked,  if 
they  thought  she  was  going  to  put  her  own  daughter  into 
trouble  to  save  another.  She  did  not  know  what  the  Scottish 
law  would  have  done  to  her  for  carrying  the  child  away. 
This  answer  was  by  no  means  satisfactory  to  the  clergyman, 
and  he  discovered,  by  close  examination,  that  she  had  a  deep 
and  revengeful  hatred  against  the  young  iDcrson  whom  she 
had  thus  injured.  But  the  paper  intimated  that,  whatever 
besides  she  had  communicated  upon  this  subject,  was  con- 
fided by  her  in  private  to  the  worthy  and  reverend  archdeacon 
who  had  bestowed  such  particular  pains  in  affording  her 


482  WA  VEELEr  NO  VELS 

spiritnal  assistance.  The  broadside  went  on  to  intimate  that, 
after  her  execution,  of  which  the  particulars  were  given,  her 
daughter,  the  insane  person  mentioned  more  tlian  once,  and 
who  was  generally  known  by  the  name  of  Madge  Wildfire, 
had  been  very  ill-used  by  the  populace,  under  the  belief  that 
she  was  a  sorceress,  and  an  accomplice  in  her  mother's  crimes, 
and  had  been  with  difficulty  rescued  by  the  prompt  inter- 
ference of  the  police. 

Such  (for  we  omit  moral  reflections  and  all  that  may  seem 
unnecessary  to  the  ex23lanation  of  our  story)  was  the  tenor  of 
the  broadside.  To  Mrs.  Butler  it  contained  intelligence 
of  the  highest  importance,  since  it  seemed  to  afford  the  most 
unequivocal  proof  of  her  sister's  innocence  respecting  the 
crime  for  which  she  had  so  nearly  suffered.  It  is  true, 
neither  she  nor  her  husband,  nor  even  her  father,  had  ever 
believed  her  capable  of  touching  her  infant  with  an  un- 
kind hand  when  in  possession  of  her  reason ;  but  there 
was  a  darkness  on  the  subject  and  what  might  have  hap- 
pened in  a  moment  of  insanity  was  dreadful  to  think  upon. 
Besides  whatever  was  their  own  conviction,  they  had  no 
means  of  establishing  Effie's  innocence  to  the  M'orld,  which, 
according  to  the  tenor  of  this  fugitive  publication,  was  now 
at  length  completely  manifested  by  the  dying  confession  of 
the  person  chiefly  interested  in  concealing  it. 

After  thanking  God  for  a  discovery  so  dear  to  her  feelings, 
Mrs.  Butler  began  to  consider  what  use  she  should  make  of 
it.  To  have  shown  it  to  her  husband  would  have  been  her 
first  impuse  ;  but,  besides  that  he  was  absent  from  home, 
and  the  matter  too  delicate  to  be  the  subject  of  correspon- 
dence by  an  indifferent  penwoman,  Mrs.  Butler  recollected 
that  he  was  not  possessed  of  the  information  necessary  to 
form  a  judgment  upon  the  occasion  ;  and  that,  adhering  to 
the  rule  which  she  had  considered  as  most  advisable,  she  had 
best  transmit  the  information  immediately  to  her  sister,  and 
leave  her  to  adjust  with  her  husband  the  mode  in  which 
they  should  avail  themselves  of  it.  Accordingly,  she  des- 
patched a  special  messenger  to  Glasgow  with  a  packet,  inclos- 
ing the  "  Confession  "  of  Margaret  Murdockson,  addressed, 
as  usual,  under  cover  to  Mr.  Whiterose  of  York.  She  ex- 
pected, with  anxiety,  an  answer ;  but  none  arrived  in  the 
usual  course  of  post,  and  she  was  left  to  imagine  how  many 
various  causes  might  account  for  Lady  Staunton's  silence. 
She  began  to  be  half  sorry  that  she  had  parted  with  the 
printed  paper,  both  for  fear  of  its  having  fallen  into  bad 
hands,  and  from  the  desire  of  regaining  the  document,  which 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  483 

might  be  essential  to  establish  her  sister's  innocence.  She 
was  even  doubting  whether  she  had  not  better  commit  the 
Avhole  matter  to  her  husband's  consideration,  when  other  in- 
cidents occurred  to  divert  her  purpose. 

Jeanie  (she  is  a  favorite,  and  we  beg  her  pardon  for  still 
using  the  familiar  title)  had  walked  down  to  the  seaside 
with  her  children  one  morning  after  breakfast,  when  the 
boys,  whose  sight  was  more  discriminating  than  hers,  ex- 
claimed, that  "  the  Captain's  coach  and  six  was  coming 
right  for  the  shore,  with  ladies  in  it."  Jeanie  instinct- 
ively bent  her  eyes  on  the  approaching  boat,  and  became 
soon  sensible  that  there  were  two  females  in  the  stern, 
seated  beside  the  gracious  Duncan,  who  acted  as  pilot.  It 
was  a  point  of  politeness  to  walk  towards  the  landing-place, 
in  order  to  receive  them,  especially  as  she  saw  that  the 
(Jap tarn  of  Knockdhunder  was  upon  honor  and  ceremony. 
His  piper  was  in  the  bow  of  the  boat,  sending  forth  music, 
of  which  one  lialf  sounded  the  better  that  the  other  was 
tlrowned  by  the  waves  and  the  breeze.  Moreover,  he  him- 
self had  his  brigadier  wig  newly  frizzed,  his  bonnet  (he  had 
abjured  the  cocked  hat)  decorated  with  St.  George's  red 
cross,  his  uniform  mounted  as  a  captain  of  militia,  the 
Duke's  flag  with  the  boar's  head  displayed, — all  intimated 
parade  and  gala. 

As  Mrs.  Butler  approached  the  landing-place,  she  ob- 
served the  Captain  hand  the  ladies  ashore  with  marks  of 
great  attention,  and  the  parties  advanced  towards  her,  the 
Captain  a  few  steps  before  the  two  ladies,  of  whom  the 
taller  and  elder  leaned  on  the  shoulder  of  the  othei-,  who 
seemed  to  be  an  attendant  or  servant. 

As  they  met,  Duncan,  in  his  best,  most  important,  and 
deepest  tone  of  Highland  civility,  *' pegged  leave  to  intro- 
duce to  Mrs.  Putler,  Lady — eh — eh — I  hae  forgotten  your 
leddyship's  name  !  '* 

"Nevermind  my  name,   sir,"  said  the  lady;  "I  trust 

Mrs.    Butler  will  be  at  no  loss.     The  Duke's  letter " 

And,  as  she  observed  Mrs.  Butler  look  confused,  she  said 
again  to  Duncan,  something  sharply,  "  Did  you  not  send 
the  letter  last  night,  sir  ?  " 

"  In  troth  and  I  didna,  and  I  crave  your  leddyship's 
pardon  ;  but  you  see,  matam,  I  thought  it  would  do  as  weel 
to-day,  pecause  Mrs.  Putler  is  never  taen  out  o'  sorts — 
never  ;  and  the  coach  was  out  fishing  ;  and  the  gig  was  gane 

to  Greenock  for  a  cag  of  prandy  ;  and Put  here's  his 

Grace's  letter." 


484  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

"  Give  it  me,  sir,"  said  the  lady,  taking  it  out  of  hia 
hand  ;  "  since  you  have  not  found  it  convenient  to  do  me 
the  favor  to  send  it  before  me,  I  will  deliver  it  mysel." 

Mrs.  Butler  looked  with  great  attention,  and  a  certain  du- 
oious  feeling  of  deep  interest,  on  the  lady  who  thus  expressed 
herself  with  authority  over  the  man  of  authority,  and  to 
whose  mandates  he  seemed  to  submit,  resigning  the  letter 
with  a  ''Just  as  your  leddyship  is  pleased  to  order  it." 

The  lady  was  rather  above  the  middle  size,  beautifully 
made,  though  something  e7nbonpoint,  with  a  hand  and  arm 
exquisitely  formed.  Her  manner  was  easy,  dignified,  and 
commanding,  and  seemed  to  evince  high  birth  and  the 
habits  of  elevated  society.  She  wore  a  traveling  dress,  a 
gray  beaver  hat,  and  a  veil  of  Flanders  lace.  Two  foot- 
men, in  rich  liveries,  who  got  out  of  the  barge,  and  lifted 
out  a  trunk  and  portmanteau,  appeared  to  belong  to  her 
suite. 

"As  you  did  not  receive  the  letter,  madam,  which  should 
have  served  for  my  introduction — for  I  presume  you  are 
Mrs.  Butler — I  will  not  present  it  to  you  till  you  are  so 
good  as  to  admit  me  into  your  house  without  it." 

"To  pe  sure,  matam,"  said  Knockdunder,  "ye  canna 
doubt  Mrs.  Putler  will  do  that.  Mrs.  Putler,  this  is  Lady 
— Lady — these  tamn'd  Southern  names  rin  out  o'  my  head 
like  a  stane  trowling  downhill — put  I  believe  she  is  a  Scot- 
tish woman  porn — the  mair  our  credit ;  and  I  presume  her 
leddyship  is  of  the  house  of " 

"The  Duke  of  Argyle  knows  my  family  very  well,  sir," 
said  the  lady,  in  a  tone  which  seemed  designed  to  silence 
Duncan,  or,  at  any  rate,  which  had  tiiat  elfect  completely. 

There  was  something  about  the  whole  of  this  stranger's 
address,  and  tone,  and  manner  which  acted  upon  Jeanie's 
feelings  like  the  illusions  of  a  dream,  tliat  teaze  us  with  a 
puzzling  approach  to  reality.  Something  there  was  of  her 
sister  in  the  gait  and  manner  of  the  stranger,  as  well  as  in 
the  sound  of  her  voice,  and  something  also,  when,  lifting 
her  veil,  she  showed  features  to  which,  changed  as  they 
were  in  expression  and  complexion,  she  could  not  but  attach 
many  remembrances. 

The  stranger  was  turned  of  thirty  certainly  ;  but  so  well 
were  her  personal  charms  assisted  by  the  power  of  dress 
and  arrangement  of  ornament,  that  she  might  well  have 
passed  for  one-and-twenty.  And  her  behavior  was  so  steady 
and  so  composed,  that  as  often  as  Mrs.  Butler  perceived 
anew  some  point  of  resemblance  to  her  unfortunate  sister, 


THJS  HE  A  K  T  OF  MIDLO  THIAN  i65 

SO  often  the  sustained  self-command  and  absolute  composure 
of  the  stranger  destroyed  the  ideas  whicli  began  to  arise  in 
her  imagination.  She  led  the  way  silently  towards  the 
manse,  lost  in  a  confusion  of  reflections,  and  trusting  the 
letter  with  which  slie  was  to  be  there  entrusted  would  afford 
her  satisfactory  explanation  of  what  was  a  most  puzzling 
and  embarrassing  scene. 

The  lady  maintained  in  the  mean  while  the  manners  of  a 
?tranger  of  rank.  She  admired  the  various  points  of  view 
like  one  who  has  studied  nature  and  the  best  representations 
of  art.     At  length  she  took  notice  of  the  children. 

"  These  are  two  fine  young  mountaineers.  Yours,  madam, 
I  presume  ?  " 

Jeanie  replied  in  the  affirmative.  The  stranger  sighed, 
and  sighed  once  more  as  they  were  presented  to  her  by 
name. 

"  Come  here,  Femie,"  said  Mrs.  Butler,  "  and  hold  your 
liead  up.'* 

"  What  is  your  daughter's  name,  madam  ?  ''said  the  lady. 
"  Euphemia,  madam,"  answered  Mrs.  Butler. 
"  I  thought  the  ordinary  Scottish  contraction  of  the  name 
had  been  Effie,"  replied  the  stranger,  in  a  tone  which  went 
to  Jeanie's  heart  ;  for  in  that  single  word  there  was  more  of 
her  sister — more  of  lang  syne  ideas— than  in  all  the  reminis- 
cences which  her  own  heart  had  anticipated,  or  the  features 
and  manner  of  the  stranger  had  suggested. 

When  they  reached  the  manse,  the  lady  gave  Mrs.  Butler 
the  letter  which  she  had  taken  out  of  the  hands  of  Knock- 
dunder  ;  and  as  she  gave  it  she  pressed  her  hand,  adding 
aloud.  "  Perhaps,  madam,  you  will  have  the  goodness  to  get 
me  a  little  milk." 

"  And  me  a  drap  of  the  gray-peard,  if  you  please,  Mrs. 
Putler,"  added  Duncan. 

Mrs.  Butler  withdrew  ;  but  deputing  to  May  Hettley  and 
to  David  the  supply  of  the  strangers'  wants,  she  hastened 
into  her  own  room  to  read  the  letter.  The  envelope  was 
addressed  in  the  Duke  of  Argyle's  hand,  and  requested  Mrs. 
Butler's  attentions  and  civility  to  a  lady  of  rank,  a  particular 
friend  of  his  late  brother.  Lady  Staunton  of  Willingham, 
who,  being  recommended  to  drink  goats'  whey  by  the  phy- 
sicians, was  to  honor  the  Lodge  at  Eoseneath  with  her 
residence,  while  her  husband  made  a  sliort  tour  in  Scotland. 
But  within  the  same  cover,  which  had  been  given  to  Lady 
Staunton  unsealed,  was  a  letter  from  that  lady,  intended  tc- 
prepare  her  sister  for  meeting  her,  and  which,  but  for  the 


486  WA  VEELET  NOVELS 

Captain's  negligence,  she  ought  to  have  received  on  the  pre- 
ceding evening.  It  stated  that  the  news  in  Jeanie's  last 
letter  had  been  so  interesting  to  her  husband  that  he  was 
determined  to  inquire  farther  into  the  confession  made  at 
Carlisle,  and  the  fate  of  that  poor  innocent,  and  that,  as  he 
had  been  in  some  degree  successful,  she  had,  by  the  most 
earnest  entreaties,  extorted  rather  than  obtained  his  per- 
mission, under  promise  of  observing  the  most  strict  incog- 
nito, to  spend  a  week  or  two  with  her  sister,  or  in  her 
neighborhood,  while  he  was  prosecuting  researches,  to  which 
(though  it  appeared  to  her  very  vainly)  he  seemed  to  attach 
some  hopes  of  success. 

There  was  a  postscript,  desiring  that  Jeanie  would  trust 
to  Lady  S.  the  management  of  their  intercourse,  and  be 
content  with  assenting  to  what  she  should  propose.  After 
reading  and  again  reading  the  letter,  Mrs.  Butler  hurried 
downstairs,  divided  betwixt  the  fear  of  betraying  her 
secret  and  the  desire  to  throw  herself  upon  her  sister's  neck. 
Effie  received  her  with  a  glance  at  once  affectionate  and 
cautionary,  and  immediately  proceeded  to  speak. 

"I  have  been  telling  Mr. ,  Captain — '-,  this  gentle- 
man, Mrs.  Butler,  that  if  you  could  accommodate  me  with 
an  apartment  in  your  house,  and  a  place  for  Ellis  to  sleep, 
and  for  the  two  men,  it  would  suit  me  better  than  the 
Lodge,  which  his  Grace  has  so  kindly  placed  at  my  disposal. 
I  am  advised  I  should  reside  as  near  where  the  goats  feed  as 
possible.'' 

"  I  have  peen  assuring  my  leddy,  Mrs.  Putler,"  said  Dun- 
can, "  that,  though  it  could  not  discommode  you  to  receive 
any  of  his  Grace's  visitors  or  mine,  yet  she  had  mooch  potter 
stay  at  the  Lodge ;  and  for  the  gaits,  the  creatures  can  be 
fetched  there,  in  respect  it  is  mair  fitting  they  suld  wait 
upon  her  leddy  ship,  than  she  upon  the  like  of  them." 

*' By  no  means  derange  the  goats  for  me"  said  Lady 
Staunton;  ''I  am  certain  the  milk  must  be  much  better 
here."  And  this  she  said  with  languid  negligence,  as  one 
whose  sliglitest  intimation  of  humor  is  to  bear  down  all 
argument. 

Mrs.  Butler  hastened  to  intimate  that  her  house,  such  as 
it  was,  was  heartily  at  the  disposal  of  Lady  Staunton  :  but 
the  Captain  continued  to  remonstrate. 

**  The  Duke  "  he  said,  ''  had  written " 

**  I  will  settle  all  that  with  his  Grace " 

"And  there  were  the  things  had  been  sent  down  frae 
Glasco ** 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  487 

**  Anything  necessary  might  be  sent  over  to  the  parsonage. 
She  would  beg  the  favor  of  Mrs.  Butler  to  show  her  an 
apartment,  and  of  the  Captain  to  have  her  trunks,  etc.,  sent 
over  from  Roseneath." 

So  she  courtesied  off  poor  Duncan,  who  departed,  saying 
in  his  secret  soul,  "  Cot  tamn  her  English  impudence  I 
She  takes  possession  of  the  minister's  house  as  an  it  were 
her  ain  ;  and  speaks  to  shentlemens  as  if  they  were  pounden 
servants,  an'  pe  tamn'd  to  her  !  And  there's  the  deer  that 
was  shot  too  ;  but  we  will  send  it  ower  to  the  manse,  whilk 
will  pe  put  civil,  seeing  I  hae  prought  worthy  Mrs,  Putler 
sic  a  fliskmahoy."  And  with  these  kind  intentions,  he  went 
to  the  shore  to  give  his  orders  accordingly. 

In  the  mean  time,  the  meeting  of  the  sisters  was  as  affec- 
tionate as  it  was  extraordinary,  and  each  evinced  her  feel- 
ings in  the  way  proper  to  her  character.  Jeanie  was  so  much 
overcome  by  wonder,  and  even  by  awe,  that  her  feelings  were 
deep,  stunning  and  almost  overpowering.  Elhe,  on  the  other 
hand,  wept,  laughed,  sobbed,  screamed,  and  clapped  her 
hands  for  joy,  all  in  the  space  of  five  minutes,  giving  way 
at  once,  and  without  reserve,  to  a  natural  excessive  vivacity 
of  temper,  wdiich  no  one,  however,  knew  better  how  to 
restrain  under  the  rules  of  artificial  breeding. 

After  an  hour  had  passed  like  a  moment  in  their  expres- 
sions of  mutual  affection,  Lady  Staunton  observed  the 
Captain  walking  with  impatient  steps  below  the  window. 
'*  That  tiresome  Highland  fool  has  returned  upon  our  hands,'* 
she  said.     "1  will  pray  him  to  grace  us  with  his  absence." 

"  Hout  no  !  hout  no  ! "  said  Mrs.  Butler,  in  a  tone  of 
entreaty  ;  "  ye  maunna  affront  the  Captain." 

** Affront!"  said  Lady  Staunton;  ''nobody  is  ever 
affronted  at  what  I  do  or  say,  my  dear.  However,  I  will 
endure  him,  since  you  think  it  proper." 

The  Captain  was  accordingly  graciously  requested  by 
Lady  Staunton  to  remain  during  dinner.  During  this  visit 
his  studious  and  punctilious  complaisance  towards  tlie  lady 
of  rank  was  happily  contrasted  by  the  cavalier  air  of  civil 
familiarity  in  which  he  indulged  towards  the  minister's 
wife. 

"  I  have  not  been  able  to  persuade  Mrs.  Butler,"  said 
Lady  Staunton  to  the  Captain,  during  the  interval  when 
Jeanie  had  left  the  parlor,  "to  let  me  talk  of  making  any 
recompense  for  storming  her  house  and  garrisoning  it  in  the 
way  I  have  done." 

**  Doubtless,  matam,"  said  the  Captain,  "  it  wad  ill  pecome 


iS8  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

Mrs.  Pntler,  wha  is  a  very  decent  pody,  to  make  any  snch 
sharge  to  a  lady  who  comes  from  my  house,  or  his  Grace's, 
which  is  the  same  thing.  And,  speaking  of  garrisons,  in 
the  year  forty-five  1  was  poot  with  a  garrison  of  twenty  of 
my  lads  in  the  house  of  Invergarry,  whilk  had  near  been 
unhappily,  for " 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir.  But  I  wish  I  could  think  of 
some  way  of  imdemnifyiug  this  good  lady." 

"  0,  no  need  of  intemnifying  at  all  ;  no  trouble  for  her — 
nothing  at  all.  So,  peiug  in  the  house  of  Invergarry,  and 
the  people  about  it  being  uncanny,  I  doubted  the  warst, 
and " 

"  Do  you  happen  to  know,  sir,"  said  Lady  Staunton,  "  if 
any  of  these  two  lads — these  young  Butlers,  I  mean — show 
any  turn  for  the  army  ?  " 

"  Could  not  say,  indeed  my  leddy,"  replied  Knockdunder, 
"So,  I  knowing  the  people  to  pe  unchancy,  and  not  to 
lippen  to,  and  hearing  a  pibroch  in  the  wood,  I  pegan  to  pid 
my  lads  look  to  their  flints,  and  then " 

"  For,"  said  Lady  Staunton,  with  the  most  ruthless  dis- 
regard to  the  narrative  which  she  mangled  by  these  inter- 
ruptions, "if  that  should  be  the  case,  it  should  cost  Sir 
George  but  the  asking  a  pair  of  colors  for  one  of  them  at  the 
War  Office,  since  we  have  always  supported  government,  and 
never  had  occasion  to  trouble  ministers." 

"And  if  you  please,  my  leddy,"  said  Duncan,  who  began 
to  find  some  savor  in  this  proposal,  "  as  I  hae  a  braw  weel- 
grown  lad  of  a  nevoy,  ca'd  Duncan  MacGilligan,  that  is  as 
pig  as  paith  the  Putler  pairns  putten  thegither.  Sir  George 
could  ask  a  pair  for  him  at  the  same  time,  and  it  wad  pe  put 
ae  asking  for  a'." 

Lady  Staunton  only  answered  this  hint  with  a  well-bred 
stare,  "which  gave  no  sort  of  encouragement. 

Jeanie,  who  now  returned,  was  lost  in  amazement  at  the 
wonderful  difference  betwixt  the  helpless  and  despairing  girl 
whom  she  had  seen  stretched  on  a  flock-bed  in  a  dungeon, 
expecting  a  violent  and  disgraceful  death,  and  last  as  a  for- 
lorn exile  upon  the  midnight  beach,  with  the  elegant,  well- 
bred,  beautiful  woman  before  her.  The  features,  now  that 
her  sister's  veil  was  laid  aside,  did  not  appear  so  extremely 
different  as  the  whole  manner,  expression,  look,  and  bearing. 
In  outside  show.  Lady  Staunton  seemed  completely  a  crea- 
ture too  soft  and  fair  for  sorrow  to  have  touched  ;  so  much 
accustomed  to  have  all  her  whims  complied  with  by  those 
around  her,  that  she  seemed  to  expect  she  should  even  be 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  489 

saved  the  trouble  of  forming  them  ;  and  so  totally  unac- 
quainted with  contradiction,  that  she  did  not  even  use  the 
tone  of  self-will,  since  to  breathe  a  wish  was  to  have  it 
fulfilled.  She  made  no  ceremony  of  ridding  herself  of 
Duncan  as  soon  as  the  evening  approached  ;  but  compli- 
mented him  out  of  the  house,  under  pretext  of  fatigue,  with 
the  utmost  nonchalance. 

When  they  were  alone,  her  sister  could  not  help  express- 
ing her  wonder  at  the  self-possession  with  which  Lady 
Staunton  sustained  her  part. 

"  I  daresay  you  are  surprised  at  it,"  said  Lady  Staunton, 
composedly;  "for  you,  my  dear  Jeanie,  have  been  truth 
itself  from  your  cradle  upwards  ;  but  you  must  remember 
that  I  am  a  liar  of  fifteen  years'  standing,  and  therefore 
must  by  this  time  be  used  to  my  character." 

In  fact,  during  the  feverish  tumult  of  feelings  excited 
during  the  two  or  three  first  days,  Mrs.  Butler  thought  her 
sister"^  manner  was  completely  contradictory  of  the  de- 
sponding tone  which  pervaded  her  correspondence.  She  was 
moved  to  tears,  indeed,  by  the  sight  of  her  father's  grave, 
marked  by  a  modest  stone,  recording  his  piety  and  integ- 
rity ;  but  lighter  impressions  and  associations  had  also 
power  over  her.  She  amused  herself  with  visiting  the 
dairy,  in  which  she  had  so  long  been  assistant,  and  was  so 
near  discovering  herself  to  May  Hettly,  by  betraying  her 
acquaintance  with  the  celebrated  receipt  for  Dunlop  cheese, 
that  she  compared  herself  to  Bedredden  Hassan,  whom  the 
vizier,  his  father-in-law,  discovered  by  his  superlative  skill 
in  composing  cream-tarts  with  pepper  in  them.  But  when 
the  novelty  of  such  avocations  ceased  to  amuse  her,  she 
showed  to  her  sister  but  too  plainly  that  the  gaudy  coloring 
with  which  she  veiled  her  unhappiness  afforded  as  little  real 
comfort  as  the  gay  uniform  of  the  soldier  when  it  is  drawn 
over  his  mortal  wound.  There  were  moods  and  moments  in 
which  her  despondence  seemed  to  exceed  even  that  which 
she  herself  had  described  in  her  letters,  and  which  too  well 
convinced  Mrs.  Butler  how  little  her  sister's  lot  which  in 
appearance  was  so  brilliant,  was  in  reality  to  be  envied. 

There  was  one  source,  however,  from  which  Lady  Staunton 
derived  a  pure  degree  of  pleasure.  Gifted  in  every  partic- 
ular with  a  higher  degree  of  imagination  than  that  of  her 
sister,  she  was  an  admirer  of  the  beauties  of  nature,  a  taste 
which  compensates  many  evils  to  those  who  happen  to  enjoy 
it.  Here  her  character  of  a  fine  lady  stopped  short,  where 
she  ought  to  have 


490  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

Scream 'd  at  ilk  cleugh,  and  screech'd  at  ilka  how. 
As  loud  as  slie  had  seen  the  worriecow. 

On  the  contrary,  with  the  two  boys  for  her  guides,  she 
undertook  long  and  fatiguing  walks  among  the  neighboring 
mountains,  to  visits  glens,  lakes,  waterfalls,  or  whatever 
scenes  of  natural  wonder  or  beauty  lay  concealed  among 
their  recesses.  It  is  Wordsworth,  I  think,  who,  talking  of 
an  old  man  under  difficulties,  remarks,  with  a  singular  at- 
tention to  nature, 

Whether  it  was  care  that  spurred  him, 
God  only  knows ;  but  to  the  very  last, 
He  had  the  lighest  foot  in  Ennerdale. 

In  the  same  manner,  languid,  listless,  and  unhappy  within 
doors,  at  times  even  indicating  something  which  approached 
near  to  contempt  of  the  homely  accommodations  of  her 
sister's  house,  although  she  instantly  endeavored,  by  a 
thousand  kindnesses,  to  atone  for  such  ebullitions  of  spleen. 
Lady  Staunton  appeared  to  feel  interest  and  energy  while  in 
the  oj)en  air,  and  traversing  the  mountain  landscapes  in 
society  with  the  two  boys,  whose  ears  she  delighted  with 
stories  of  what  she  had  seen  in  other  countries,  and  what 
she  had  to  show  them  at  Willingham  Manor.  And  they,  on 
the  other  hand,  exerted  themselves  in  doing  the  honors  of 
Dunbartonshire  to  the  lady  who  seemed  so  kind,  insomuch 
that  there  was  scarce  a  glen  in  the  neighboring  hills  to  which 
they  did  not  introduce  her. 

Upon  one  of  these  excursions,  while  Keuben  was  otherwise 
employed,  David  alone  acted  as  Lady  Staunton's  guide,  and 
promised  to  show  her  a  cascade  in  the  hills,  grander  and 
higher  than  any  they  had  yet  visited.  It  was  a  walk  of  five 
long  miles,  and  over  rough  ground,  varied,  however,  and 
cheered,  by  mountain  views,  and  peeps  now  of  the  firth  and 
its  islands,  now  of  distant  lakes,  now  of  rocks  and  pre- 
cipices. The  scene  itself,  too,  when  they  reached  it,  amply 
rewarded  the  labor  of  the  walk.  A  single  shoot  carried  a 
considerable  stream  over  the  face  of  a  black  rock,  which 
contrasted  strongly  in  color  with  the  white  foam  of  the 
cascade,  and,  at  the  dej)th  of  about  twenty  feet,  another 
rock  intercepted  the  view  of  the  bottom  of  the  fall.  The 
water,  wheeling  out  far  beneath,  swept  round  the  crag, 
which  thus  bounded  their  view,  and  tumbled  down  the 
rocky  glen  in  a  torrent  of  foam.  Those  who  love  nature 
always  desire  to  nenetrate  into  its  utmost  recesses,  and  Lady 
Staunton  asked  David  whether  there  was  not  some  mode  of 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  491 

gaining  a  view  of  the  abyss  at  the  foot  of  the  fall.  He  said 
that  he  knew  a  station  on  a  shelf  on  the  further  side  of  the 
intercepting  rock,  from  which  the  whole  waterfall  was 
visible,  but  that  the  road  to  it  was  steep  and  slippery  and 
dangerous.  Bent,  however,  on  gratifying  her  curiosity,  she 
desired  him  to  lead  the  way  ;  and  accordingly  he  did  so  over 
crag  and  stone,  anxiously  pointing  out  to  her  the  resting- 
places  where  she  ought  to  step,  for  their  mode  of  advancing 
soon  ceased  to  be  walking,  and  became  scrambling. 

In  this  manner,  clinging  like  sea-birds  to  the  face  of  the 
rock,  they  were  enabled  at  length  to  turn  round  it,  and 
came  full  in  front  of  the  fall,  which  here  had  a  most  tre- 
mendous aspect,  boiling,  roaring,  and  thundering  with  un- 
ceasing din  into  a  black  cauldron,  a  hundred  feet  at  least 
below  them,  which  resembled  the  crater  of  a  volcano.  The 
noise,  the  dashing  of  the  waters,  which  gave  an  unsteady 
appearance  to  all  around  them,  the  trembling  even  of  the 
huge  crag  on  which  they  stood,  the  precariousness  of  their 
footing,  for  there  was  scarce  room  for  them  to  stand  on 
the  shelf  of  rock  which  they  had  thus  attained,  had  so 
powerful  an  effect  on  the  senses  and  imagination  of  Lady 
Staunton,  that  she  called  out  to  David  she  was  falling,  and 
would  in  fact  have  dropped  from  the  crag  had  he  not 
caught  hold  of  her.  The  boy  was  bold  and  stout  of  his  age  ; 
still  he  was  but  fourteen  years  old,  and  as  his  assistance 
gave  no  confidence  to  Lady  Staunton,  she  felt  her  situation 
become  really  perilous.  The  chance  was  that,  in  the  ap- 
palling novelty  of  the  circumstances,  he  might  have  caught 
the  infection  of  her  panic,  in  which  case  it  is  likely  that 
both  must  have  perished.  She  now  screamed  with  terror, 
though  without  hope  of  calling  any  one  to  her  assistance. 
To  her  amazement,  the  scream  was  answered  by  a  whistle 
from  above,  of  a  tone  so  clear  and  shrill  that  it  was  heard 
even  amid  the  noise  of  the  waterfall. 

In  this  moment  of  terror  and  perplexity,  a  human  face, 
black,  and  having  grizzled  hair  hanging  down  over  the  fore- 
head and  cheeks,  and  mixing  with  mustaches  and  a  beard 
of  the  same  color,  and  as  much  matted  and  tangled,  looked 
down  on  them  from  a  broken  part  of  the  rock  above. 

"  It  is  The  Enemy  !"  said  the  boy,  who  had  very  nearly 
become  incapable  of  supporting  Lady  Staunton. 

"Xo,  no,"'  she  exclaimed,  inaccessible  to  supernatural 
terrors,  and  restored  to  the  presence  of  mind  of  which  she 
had  been  deprived  by  the  danger  of  her  situation,  **it  is  a 
man.     For  God's  sake,  my  friend,  help  us  I '' 


492  IVAVERLEY  ^^OVELS 

The  face  glared  at  them,  but  made  no  answer ;  in  a 
second  or  two  afterwards,  another,  that  of  a  young  lad  ap- 
T)eared  beside  the  first,  equally  swart  and  begrimed,  but 
having  tangled  black  hair,  descending  in  elf  locks,  which 
gave  an  air  of  wildness  and  ferocity  to  the  whole  expression 
of  the  countenance.  Lady  Staunton  repeated  her  entreaties, 
clinging  to  the  rock  with  more  energy,  as  she  found  that, 
from  the  superstitions  terror  of  her  guide,  he  became  in- 
capable of  supporting  her.  Her  words  were  probably 
drowned  in  the  roar  of  the  falling  stream,  for,  though  she 
observed  the  lips  of  the  younger  being  whom  she  suppli- 
cated move  as  he  spoke  in  reply,  not  a  word  reached  her 
ear. 

A  moment  afterwards  it  appeared  he  had  not  mistaken  the 
nature  of  her  supplication,  which,  indeed  was  easy  to  be 
understood  from  her  situation  and  gestures.  The  younger 
apparition  disappeared,  and  immediately  after  lowered  a 
ladder  of  twisted  osiers,  about  eight  feet  in  length,  and 
made  signs  to  David  to  hold  it  fast  while  the  lady  ascended. 
Despair  gives  courage,  and  finding  herself  in  this  fearful 
predicament  Lady  Staunton  did  not  hesitate  to  risk  the 
ascent  by  the  precarious  means  which  this  accommodation 
afforded ;  and,  carefully  assisted  by  the  person  who  had 
thus  providentially  come  to  her  aid,  she  reached  the  sum- 
mit in  safety.  She  did  not,  however,  even  look  around  her 
until  she  saw  her  nephew  lightly  and  actively  follow  her 
examjjle,  although  there  was  now  no  one  to  hold  the  ladder 
fast.  When  she  saw  him  safe  she  looked  round,  and  could 
not  help  shuddering  at  the  place  and  company  in  which  she 
found  herself. 

They  were  on  a  sort  of  platform  of  rock,  surrounded  on 
every  side  by  precipices,  or  overhanging  cliffs,  and  which  it 
would  have  been  scarce  possible  for  any  research  to  have 
discovered,  as  it  did  not  seem  to  be  commanded  by  any  ac- 
cessible position.  It  was  partly  covered  by  a  huge  frag- 
ment of  stone,  which,  having  fallen  from  the  cliffs  above, 
had  been  intercepted  by  others  in  its  descent,  and  jammed 
so  as  to  serve  for  a  sloping  roof  to  the  further  part  of  the 
broad  shelf  or  platform  on  which  they  stood.  A  quantity 
of  withered  moss  and  leaves,  strewed  beneath  this  rude  and 
wretched  shelter,  showed  the  lairs — they  could  not  be  termed 
the  beds — of  those  who  dwelt  in  this  eyrie,  for  it  deserved 
no  other  name.  Of  these,  two  were  before  Lady  Staunton. 
One,  the  same  who  had  afforded  such  timely  assistance, 
stood  upright  before  them,  a  tall,  lathy,  young  savage  ;  his 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  498 

dress  a  tattered  plaid  and  philabeg,  no  slioes,  no  stockings, 
no  hat  or  bonnet,  the  place  of  the  last  being  supplied  by  his 
hair,  twisted  and  matted  like  the  glibb  of  the  ancient  wild 
Irish,  and,  like  theirs,  forming  a  natural  thicket,  stout 
enough  to  bear  off  the  cut  of  a  sword.  Yet  the  eyes  of  the 
lad  were  keen  and  sparkling ;  his  gesture  free  and  noble, 
like  that  of  all  savages.  He  took  little  notice  of  David 
Butler,  but  gazed  with  wonder  on  Lady  Staunton,  as  a  be- 
ing different  probably  in  dress,  and  superior  in  beauty,  to 
anything  he  had  ever  beheld.  The  old  man  whose  face 
they  had  first  seen  remained  recumbent  in  the  same  posture 
as  when  he  had  first  looked  down  on  them,  only  his  face 
was  turned  towards  them  as  he  lay  and  looked  up  with  a 
lazy  and  listless  apathy,  which  belied  the  general  expression 
of  his  dark  and  rugged  features.  He  seemed  a  very  tall 
man,  but  was  scarce  better  clad  than  the  younger.  He  had 
on  a  loose  Lowland  greatcoat,  and  ragged  tartan  trews  or 
pantaloons. 

All  around  looked  singularly  wild  and  unpropitious.  Be- 
neath the  brow  of  the  incumbent  rock  was  a  charcoal  fire, 
on  which  there  was  a  still  working,  with  bellows,  pincers, 
hammers,  a  movable  anvil,  and  other  smiths*  tools  ;  three 
giins,  with  two  or  three  sacks  and  barrels,  were  disposed 
against  the  wall  of  rock,  under  shelter  of  the  superincum- 
bent crag ;  a  dirk  and  two  swords,  and  a  Lochaber  ax,  lay 
scattered  around  the  fire,  of  which  the  red  glare  cast  a 
ruddy  tinge  on  the  precipitous  foam  and  midst  of  the  cas- 
cade. The  lad,  when  he  had  satisfied  his  curiosity  with 
staring  at  Lady  Staunton,  fetched  an  earthen  jar  and  a  horn 
cup,  into  which  he  poured  some  spirits,  apparently  hot 
from  the  still,  and  offered  them  successively  to  the  lady  and 
to  the  boy.  13otli  declined,  and  the  young  savage  quaffed 
off  the  draught,  which  could  not  amount  to  less  than  three 
ordinary  glasses.  He  then  fetched  another  ladder  from  the 
corner  of  the  cavern,  if  it  could  be  termed  so,  adjusted  it 
against  the  transverse  rock,  which  served  as  a  roof,  and 
made  signs  for  the  lady  to  ascend  it,  while  he  held  it  fast 
below.  She  did  so,  and  found  herself  on  the  top  of  a  broad 
rock,  near  the  brink  of  the  chasm  into  which  the  brook  pre- 
cipitates itself.  She  could  see  the  crest  of  the  torrent  flung 
loose  down  the  rock,  like  the  mane  of  a  wild  horse,  but  with- 
out having  any  view  of  the  lower  platform  from  which  she 
had  ascended. 

David  was  not  suffered  to  mount  so  easily  ;  the  lad,  from 
8port  or  love  of  mischief,  shook  the  ladder  a  good  deal  as  he 


494  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

ascended,  and  seemed  to  enjoy  the  terror  of  5'oung  Butler ; 
80  that,  when  they  had  both  come  up,  they  looked  on  each 
other  with  no  friendly  eyes.  Neither,  however,  spoke. 
The  young  caird,  or  tinker,  or  gipsy,  with  a  good  deal  of 
attention,  assisted  Lady  Staunton  up  a  very  perilous  ascent 
which  she  had  still  to  encounter,  and  they  were  followed  by 
David  Butler,  until  all  three  stood  clear  of  the  ravine  on 
the  side  of  a  mountain,  whose  sides  were  covered  with 
heather  and  sheets  of  loose  shingle.  So  narrow  was  the 
chasm  out  of  which  they  ascended,  that,  unless  when  they 
were  on  the  very  verge,  the  eye  passed  to  the  other  side 
without  perceiving  the  existence  of  a  rent  so  fearful,  and 
nothing  was  seen  of  the  cataract,  though  its  deep  hoarse 
voice  was  still  heard. 

Lady  Staunton,  freed  from  the  danger  of  rock  and  river, 
had  now  a  new  subject  of  anxiety.  Her  two  guides  con- 
fronted each  other  with  angry  countenances ;  for  David, 
though  younger  by  two  years  at  least,  and  much  shorter, 
was  a  stout,  well-set,  and  very  bold  boy. 

"  You  are  the  blackcoat's  son  of  Knocktarlitie,'*  said  the 
young  caird  ;  "  if  you  come  here  again,  I'll  pitch  you  down 
the  linn  like  a  foot-ball/' 

"  Ay,  lad,  ye  are  very  short  to  be  sae  lang,"  retorted 
young  Butler,  undauntedly,  and  measuring  his  opponent's 
height  with  an  undismayed  eye.  "1  am  thinking  you  are 
a  gillie  of  Black  Donacha ;  if  you  come  down  the  glen, 
we'll  shoot  you  like  a  wild  buck." 

"  You  may  tell  your  father,"  said  the  lad,  "  that  the  leaf 
on  the  timber  is  the  last  he  shall  see  ;  we  will  hae  amends 
for  the  mischief  he  has  done  to  us." 

"  I  hope  he  will  live  to  see  mony  simmers,  and  do  ye 
muckle  mair,"  answered  David. 

More  might  have  passed,  but.Lady  Staunton  stepped  be- 
tween them  with  her  purse  in  her  hand,  and,  taking  out  a 
guinea,  of  which  it  contained  several  visible  through  the 
network,  as  well  as  some  silver  in  the  opposite  end,  oflEered 
it  to  the  caird. 

"  The  white  siller,  lady — the  white  siller,"  said  the  young 
savage,  to  whom  the  value  of  gold  was  probably  unknown. 

Lady  Staunton  poured  what  silver  she  had  into  his  hand, 
and  the  juvenile  savage  snatched  it  greedily,  and  made  a 
sort  of  half  inclination  of  acknowledgment  and  adieu. 

"  Let  us  make  haste  now.  Lady  Staunton,"  said  David, 
*'for  there  will  be  little  peace  with  them  since  they  hae 
seen  your  purse." 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  495 

They  hurried  on  as  fast  as  they  could  ;  but  they  had  not 
descended  the  hill  a  hundred  yards  or  two  before  they  heard 
a  halloo  behind  them,  and  looking  back,  saw  both  the  old 
man  and  the  young  one  pursuing  them  with  great  speed, 
the  former  with  a  gun  on  his  shoulder.  Very  fortunately, 
at  this  moment,  a  sportsman,  a  gamekeeper  of  the  Duke, 
who  was  engaged  in  stalking  deer,  appeared  on  the  face  of 
the  hill.  The  bandits  stopped  on  seeing  him,  and  Lady 
Stannton  hastened  to  put  herself  under  his  protection.  He 
leadily  gave  them  his  escort  liome,  and  it  required  his  athle- 
tic form  and  loaded  rifle  to  restore  to  the  lady  her  usual  con- 
fidence and  courage. 

Donald  listened  with  much  gravity  to  the  account  of  their 
adventure  ;  and  answered  with  great  composure  to  David's 
repeated  inquiries,  whether  he  could  have  suspected  that 
the  cairds  had  been  lurking  there — •''  Inteed,  Master  Tavie, 
I  might  hae  had  some  guess  that  they  were  there,  or  there- 
about, though  maybe  I  had  nane.  But  I  am  aften  on  the 
hill  ;  and  they  are  like  wasps  ;  tliey  stang  only  them  that 
fashes  them  ;  sae,  for  my  part,  I  make  a  point  not  to  see 
them,  unless  I  were  ordered  out  on  the  preceese  errand  by 
MacCallummore  or  Knockdunder,  whilk  is  a  clean  different 
case." 

They  reached  the  manse  late  ;  and  Lady  Staunton,  who 
had  (suffered  much  both  from  fright  and  fatigue,  never  again 
permitted  her  love  of  the  picturesque  to  carry  her  so  far 
among  the  mountains  without  a  stronger  escort  than  David, 
though  she  acknowledged  he  had  won  the  stand  of  colors  by 
the  intrepidity  he  had  displayed,  so  soon  as  assured  he  had 
to  do  with  an  eartiily  antagonist.  •'!  couldna  maybe  hae 
made  muckle  o'  a  bargain  wi'  yon  lang  callant,"  said  David, 
when  thus  complimented  on  his  valor  ;  *'  but  when  ye  deal 
ffi'  thae  folk,  it's  tyne  heart  tyne  a,'." 


CHAPTER  LI 

What  see  you  there, 
That  hath  so  cowarded  and  aliased  your  blood 
Out  of  appearance ! 

Henry  V. 

We  are  under  the  necessity  of  returning  to  Edinburgh, 
where  the  General  Assembly  was  now  sitting.  It  is  well 
known  that  some  Scottish  nobleman  is  usually  deputed  as 
High  Commissioner,  to  represent  the  person  of  the  king  in 
this  convocation  ;  that  he  has  allowances  for  the  purpose  of 
maintaining  a  certain  outward  show  and  solemnity,  and  sup- 
porting the  hospitality  of  the  representative  of  Majesty. 
Whoever  is  distinguished  by  rank  or  office  in  or  near  the 
capital  usually  attends  the  morning  levees  of  the  Lord  Com- 
missioner, and  walks  with  him  in  procession  to  the  place 
where  the  Assembly  meets. 

The  nobleman  who  held  this  office  chanced  to  be  particu- 
larly connacted  with  Sir  George  Staunton,  and  it  was  in  his 
train  that  he  ventured  to  tread  the  High  Street  of  Edin- 
burgh for  the  first  time  since  the  fatal  night  of  Porteous's 
execution.  Walking  at  the  right  hand  of  the  representative 
of  Sovereignty,  covered  with  lace  and  embroidery,  and  with 
all  the  paraphernalia  of  wealth  and  rank,  the  handsome 
though  wasted  form  of  the  English  stranger  attracted  all 
eyes.  Who  could  have  recognized  in  a  form  so  aristocratic 
the  plebeian  convict  that,  disguised  in  the  rags  of  Madge 
Wildfire,  had  led  the  formidable  rioters  to  their  destined 
revenge  ?  There  was  no  possibility  that  this  could  happen, 
even  if  any  of  his  ancient  acquaintances,  a  race  of  men 
whose  lives  are  so  brief,  had  happened  to  survive  the  span 
commonly  allotted  to  evil-doers.  Besides,  the  whole  affair 
had  long  fallen  asleep,  with  the  angry  passions  in  which  it 
originated.  Nothing  is  more  certain  than  that  persons 
known  to  have  had  a  share  in  that  formidable  riot,  and  to 
have  fled  from  Scotland  on  that  account,  had  made  money 
abroad,  returned  to  enjoy  it  in  their  native  country,  and 
lived  and  died  undisturbed  by  the  law.*  The  forbearance 
of  the  magistrate  was  in  these  instances  wise,  certainly,  and 

*See  Arnot's  Criminal  Trials^  4to  ed.,  p.  335. 
486 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  497 

just ;  for  what  good  impression  could  be  made  on  the  public 
mind  by  punishment,  when  the  memory  of  the  offense  was 
obliterated,  and  all  that  was  remembered  was  the  recent  in- 
offensive, or  perhaps  exemplary,  conduct  of  the  offender  ? 

Sir  George  Staunton  might,  therefore,  tread  the  scene  of 
his  former  audacious  exploits  free  from  the  apprehension 
of  the  law,  or  even  of  discovery  or  suspicion.  But  with 
what  feelings  his  heart  that  day  throbbed  must  be  left  to 
those  of  the  reader  to  imagine.  It  was  an  object  of  no  com- 
mon interest  which  had  brought  him  to  encounter  so  many 
painful  remembrances. 

In  consequence  of  Jcanie's  letter  to  Lady  Staunton,  trans- 
mitting  the  confession,  he  had  visited  the  town  of  Carlisle, 
and  had  found  Archdeacon  Fleming  still  alive,  by  whom 
that  confession  had  been  received.  This  reverend  gentle- 
man, whose  character  stood  deservedly  very  high,  he  so  far 
admitted  into  his  confidence  as  to  own  himself  the  father  of 
the  unfortunate  infant  which  had  been  spirited  away  by 
Madge  Wildfire,  representing  the  intrigue  as  a  matter  of 
juvenile  extravagance  on  his  own  part,  for  which  he  was  now 
anxious  to  atone,  by  tracing,  if  possible,  what  had  become 
of  the  child.  After  some  recollection  of  the  circumstances, 
the  clergyman  was  able  to  call  to  memory  that  the  unhappy 
woman  had  written  a  letter  to  *'  George  Staunton,  Esq., 
younger.  Rectory,  Willingham,  by  Grantham  "  ;  that  he  had 
forwarded  it  to  the  address  accordingly,  and  that  it  had  been 
returned,  with  a  note  from  the  Reverend  Mr.  Staunton,  Rec- 
tor of  Willingham,  saying,  he  knew  no  such  person  as  him 
to  whom  the  letter  was  addressed.  As  this  had  happened 
just  at  the  time  when  George  had,  for  the  last  time,  ab- 
sconded from  his  father's  house  to  carry  off  Effie,  he  was  at 
no  loss  to  account  for  the  cause  of  the  resentment  under  the 
influence  of  Avhich  his  father  had  disowned  him.  This  was 
another  instance  in  which  his  ungovernable  temper  had  oc 
casioned  his  misfortune  ;  had  he  remained  at  Willingham 
but  a  few  days  longer,  he  would  have  received  Margaret 
Murdockson's  letter,  in  whicn  was  exactly  described  the  per- 
son and  haunts  of  the  woman,  Annajole  Bailzou,  to  whom 
she  [Madge  Wildfire]  had  parted  with  the  infant.  It  ap- 
peared that  Meg  Murdockson  had  been  induced  to  make  this 
confession,  less  from  any  feelings  of  contrition,  than  from 
the  desire  of  obtaining,  through  George  Staunton  or  his 
father's  means,  protection  and  support  for  her  dangliter 
Madge.  Her  letter  to  George  Staunton  said,  "  That  while 
the  writer  lived,  her  daughter  would  hav«  needed  nought 


498  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

from  anybody,  and  that  she  would  never  have  meddled  in 
these  aifairs,  except  to  pay  back  the  ill  that  George  had 
done  to  her  and  hers.  But  she  was  to  die,  and  her  daughter 
would  be  destitute,  and  without  reason  to  guide  her.  She 
had  lived  in  the  world  long  enough  to  know  that  people  did 
nothing  for  nothing ;  so  she  had  told  George  Staunton  all 
he  could  wish  to  know  about  his  wean,  in  hopes  he  would 
not  see  the  demented  young  creature  he  had  ruined  perish 
for  want.  As  for  her  motives  for  not  telling  them  sooner, 
she  had  a  long  account  to  reckon  for  in  the  next  world,  and 
she  would  reckon  for  that  too." 

The  clergyman  said  that  Meg  had  died  in  the  same  des- 
perate state  of  mind,  occasionally  expressing  some  regret 
about  the  child  which  was  lost,  but  oftener  sorrow  that  the 
mother  had  not  been  hanged — her  mind  at  once  a  chaos  of 
guilt,  rage,  and  apprehension  for  her  daughter's  future 
safety  ;  that  instinctive  feeling  of- parental  anxiety  whicb 
she  had  in  common  with  the  she-wolf  and  lioness  being  the 
last  shade  of  kindly  affection  that  occupied  a  breast  equally 
savage. 

The  melancholy  catastrophe  of  Madge  Wildfire  was  occa- 
sioned by  her  taking  the  confusion  of  her  mother's  execution 
as  affording  an  opportunity  of  leaving  the  workhouse  to 
which  the  clergyman  had  sent  her,  and  presenting  herself  to 
the  mob  in  their  fury,  to  perish  in  the  way  we  have  already 
seen.  When  Dr.  Fleming  found  the  convict's  letter  was  re- 
turned from  Lincolnshire,  he  wrote  to  a  friend  in  Edinburgh, 
to  inquire  into  the  fate  of  the  unfortunate  girl  whose  child 
nad  been  stolen,  and  was  informed  by  his  correspondent  that 
she  had  been  pardoned,  and  that,  with  all  her  family,  she 
had  retired  to  some  distant  part  of  Scotland,  or  left  the 
kingdom  entirely.  And  here  the  matter  rested,  until,  at 
Sir  George  Staunton's  application,  the  clergyman  looked  out 
and  produced  Margaret  Murdockson's  returned  letter,  and 
the  other  memoranda  which  he  had  kept  concerning  the 
affair. 

Whatever  might  be  Sir  George  Staunton's  feelings  in  rip- 
ping up  this  miserable  history,  and  listening  to  the  tragical 
fate  of  the  unhappy  girl  whom  he  had  ruined,  he  had  so 
much  of  his  ancient  wilfulness  of  disposition  left  as  to  shut 
his  eyes  on  everything  save  the  prospect  which  seemed  to 
open  itself  of  recovering  his  son.  It  was  true,  it  would  be 
difficult  to  produce  him  without  telling  much  more  of  the 
history  of  his  birth  and  the  misfortunes  of  his  parents  than 
it  was  prudent  to  make  known.     But  let  him  once  be  found. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  496 

let  him  but  prove  worthy  of  his  father's  protection,  and 
many  ways  might  be  fallen  upon  to  avoid  such  risk.  Sir 
George  Staunton  was  at  liberty  to  adopt  him  as  his  heir,  if 
he  pleased,  without  communicating  the  secret  of  his  birth  ; 
or  an  Act  of  Parliament  might  be  obtained,  declaring  him 
legitimate,  and  allowing  him  the  name  and  arms  of  his 
father.  He  was,  indeed,  already  a  legitimate  child  accord- 
ing to  the  law  of  Scotland,  by  the  subsequent  marriage  of 
his  parents.  Wilful  in  everything.  Sir  George's  sole  desire 
now  was  to  see  this  son,  even  should  his  recovery  bring  with 
it  a  new  series  of  misfortunes  as  dreadful  as  those  which 
followed  on  his  being  lost. 

But  where  was  the  youth  who  might  eventually  be  called 
to  the  honors  and  estates  of  this  ancient  family  ?  On  Avhat 
heath  was  he  wandering,  and  shrouded  by  what  mean  dis- 
guise ?  Did  he  gain  his  precarious  bread  by  some  petty 
trade,  by  menial  toil,  by  violence,  or  by  theft  ?  These  were 
questions  on  which  Sir  George's  anxious  investigations  could 
obtain  no  light.  Many  remembered  that  Annaple  Bailzou 
wandered  through  the  country  as  a  beggar  and  fortune- 
teller, or  spae-wife  ;  some  remembered  that  she  had  been 
seen  with  an  infant  in  1737  or  1738,  but  for  more  than  ten 
years  she  had  not  traveled  that  district,  and  that  she  had 
been  heard  to  say  she  was  going  to  a  distant  part  of  Scot- 
land, of  which  country  she  was  a  native.  To  Scotland, 
therefore,  came  Sir  George  Staunton,  having  parted  with  his 
lady  at  Glasgow  ;  and  his  arrival  at  Edinburgh  happening 
to  coincide  with  the  sitting  of  the  General  Assembly  of  the 
Kirk,  his  acquaintance  with  the  nobleman  who  held  the  of- 
fiee  of  Lord  High  Commissioner  forced  him  more  into  pub- 
lic than  suited  either  his  views  or  inclinations. 

At  the  public  table  of  this  nobleman.  Sir  George  Staunton 
was  placed  next  to  a  clergyman  of  respectable  appearance, 
and  well-bred  though  ^^lain  demeanor,  whose  name  he  dis- 
covered to  be  Butler.  It  had  been  no  part  of  Sir  George's 
plan  to  take  his  brother-in-law  into  his  confidence,  and  he  had 
rejoiced  exceedingly  in  the  assurances  he  received  from  his 
wife  that  Mrs.  Butler,  the  very  soul  of  integrity  and  honor, 
had  never  suffered  the  account  he  had  given  of  himself  at 
Williugham  Eectory  to  transpire,  even  to  her  husband.  But 
he  was  not  sorry  to  have  an  opportunity  to  converse  with  so 
near  a  connection,  without  being  known  to  him,  and  to  form 
a  judgment  of  his  character  and  understanding.  He  saw 
much,  and  heard  more,  to  raise  Butler  very  high  in  his 
opinion.     He  found  he  was  generally  respected  by  those  of 


§00  WA  VERLE  Y  NO  VEL8 

his  own  profession,  as  well  as  by  the  laity  who  had  seats  in 
the  Assembly.  He  had  made  several  public  appearances  in 
the  Assembly,  distinguished  by  good  sense,  candor,  and 
ability  ;  and  he  was  followed  and  admired  as  a  sound,  and 
at  the  same  time  an  eloquent,  preacher. 

This  was  all  very  satisfactory  to  Sir  George  Staunton's 
pride,  which  had  revolted  at  the  idea  of  his  wife's  sister  be- 
ing obscurely  married.  He  now  began,  on  the  contrary,  to 
think  the  connection  so  much  better  than  he  expected,  that 
if  it  should  be  necessary  to  acknowledge  it,  in  consequence 
of  the  recovery  of  his  son,  it  would  sound  well  enough  that 
Lady  Staunton  had  a  sister  who,  in  the  decayed  state  of  the 
family,  had  married  a  Scottish  clergyman,  high  in  the  opinion 
of  his  countrymen,  and  a  leader  in  the  church. 

It  was  with  these  feelings  that,  when  the  Lord  High  Com- 
missioner's company  broke  up,  Sir  George  Staunton,  under 
pretence  of  prolonging  some  inquiries  concerning  the  con- 
stitution of  the  Church  of  Scotland,  requested  Butler  to  go 
home  to  his  lodgings  in  the  Lawnmarket,  and  drink  a  cup 
of  coffee.  Butler  agreed  to  wait  upon  him,  providing  Sir 
George  would  permit  liim,  in  passing,  to  call  at  a  friend's 
house  where  he  resided,  and  make  his  apology  for  not  com- 
ing to  partake  her  tea.  They  proceeded  up  the  High 
Street,  entered  the  Krames,  and  passed  the  begging-box, 
placed  to  remind  those  at  liberty  of  the  distresses  of  the 
poor  prisoners.  Sir  George  paused  there  one  instant,  and 
next  day  a  £20  note  was  found  in  that  receptacle  for  public 
charity. 

When  he  came  up  to  Butler  again,  he  found  him  with  his 
eye3  fixed  on  the  entrance  of  the  tolbooth,  and  apparently 
in  deep  thought. 

"  That  seems  a  very  strong  door,"  said  Sir  George,  by  way 
of  saying  something. 

"  it  is  so,  sir,"  said  Butler,  turning  off  and  beginning  to 
walk  forward,  "  but  it  was  my  misfortune  at  one  time  to  see 
it  prove  greatly  too  weak." 

At  this  moment,  looking  at  his  companion,  he  asked  him 
whether  he  felt  himself  ill  ;  and  Sir  George  Staunton  ad- 
mitted that  he  had  been  so  foolish  as  to  eat  ice,  which  some- 
times disagreed  with  him.  With  kind  officiousness,  that 
would  not  be  gainsaid,  and  ere  he  could  find  out  where  he  was 
going,  Butler  hurried  Sir  George  into  the  friend's  house,  near 
to  the  prison,  in  which  he  himself  had  lived  since  he  came 
to  town,  being,  indeed,  no  other  than  that  of  our  old  friend 
Bart<^iHe  Saddletree,  in  which  Lady  Staunton  had  served  a 


TEE  HEA  ET  OF  MIDL  O  THIA  N  501 

ihort  noviciate  as  a  shop-maid.  This  recollection  rushed  on 
her  husband's  mind,  and  the  blush  of  shame  Avliich  it  ex- 
cited overpowered  the  sensation  of  fear  which  had  produced 
his  former  paleness.  Good  Mrs.  Saddletree,  however,  bus- 
tled about  to  receive  the  rich  English  baronet  as  the  friend 
of  Mr.  Butler,  and  requested  an  elderly  female  in  a  black 
gown  to  sit  still,  in  a  way  which  seemed  to  imply  a  wish 
that  she  would  clear  the  way  for  her  betters.  In  the  mean 
while,  understanding  the  state  of  the  case,  she  ran  to  get 
some  cordial  waters,  sovereign,  of  course,  in  all  cases  of 
faintishness  whatsoever.  During  her  absence,  her  visitor, 
the  female  in  black,  made  some  progress  out  of  the  room,  and 
might  have  left  it  altogether  without  particular  observation, 
had  she  not  stumbled  at  the  threshold,  so  near  Sir  George 
Staunton  that  he,  in  point  of  civility,  raised  her  and  assisted 
her  to  the  door. 

"  Mrs.  Porteous  is  turned  very  doited  now,  puir  body," 
said  Mrs.  Saddletree,  as  she  returned  with  her  bottle  in 
her  hand.  "  She  is  no  sae  auld,  but  she  got  a  sair  back- 
cast  wi' the  slaughter  o' her  husband.  Ye  had  some  trouble 
about  that  job,  Mr.  Butler.  I  think,  sir  (to  Sir  George), 
ye  had  better  drink  out  the  haill  glass,  for  to  my  een  ye 
look  waur  than  when  ye  came  in." 

And,  indeed,  he  grew  as  pale  as  a  corpse  on  recollecting 
who  it  was  that  his  arm  had  so  lately  supported — the  widow 
whom  he  had  so  large  a  share  in  making  such. 

"It  is  a  prescribed  job  that  case  of  Porteous  now,"  said 
old  Saddletree,  who  was  confined  to  his  chair  by  the  gout 
— "  clean  prescribed  and  out  of  date." 

"lam  not  clear  of  that,  neighbor,"  said  Plumdamas, 
"  for  I  have  heard  them  say  twenty  years  should  rin,  and 
this  is  but  the  fifty-ane  ;  Porteous's  mob  was  in  thretty- 
seven ." 

*'  Ye'U  no  teach  me  law,  I  think,  neighbor — me  that  has 
four  gaun  pleas,  and  might  hae  had  fourteen,  an  it  hadna 
been  the  gudewife  ?  I  tell  ye,  if  the  foremost  of  the  Por- 
teous mob  were  standing  there  where  that  gentleman  stands, 
tlie  King's  A-dvocate  wadna  meddle  wi' him  :  it  fa's  under 
the  negative  prescription." 

"  Haud  your  din,  carles,"  said  Mrs  Saddletree,  "and  let 
the  gentleman  sit  down   and  get  a  dish  of  comfortable  tea." 

But  Sir  George  had  had  quite  enough  of  their  conversa- 
tion ;  and  Butler,  at  his  request,  made  an  apology  to  Mrs. 
Saddletree,  and  accompanied  him  to  liis  lodgings.  Her* 
they  found   another  guest  waiting   Sir  George  Staunton's 


502  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

return.  This  was  no  other  than  our  reader's  old  acquaint- 
ance, Ratcliffe. 

This  man  had  exercised  the  office  of  turnkey  with  so 
much  vigilance,  acuteuess,  and  fidelity,  that  he  gradually 
rose  to  be  governor  or  captain  of  the  tolbooth.  And  it  is 
yet  remembered  in  tradition,  that  young  men  who  rather 
sought  amusing  than  select  society  in  their  merry-meetings 
used  sometimes  to  request  Eatcliffe's  company,  in  order 
that  he  might  regale  them  with  legends  of  his  extraordinary 
feats  in  the  way  of  robbery  and  escape.*  But  he  lived  and 
died  without  resuming  his  original  vocation,  otherwise  than 
in  his  narratives  over  a  bottle. 

Under  these  circumstances,  he  had  been  recommended 
to  Sir  George  Staunton  by  a  man  of  the  law  in  Edinburgh, 
as  a  person  likely  to  answer  any  questions  he  might  have 
to  ask  about  Annaple  Bailzou,  who,  according  to  the  color 
which  Sir  George  Staunton  gave  to  his  cause  of  inquiry, 
was  supposed  to  have  stolen  a  child  in  the  west  of  England, 
belonging  to  a  family  in  which  he  was  interested.  The 
gentleman  had  not  mentioned  his  name,  but  only  his  offi- 
cial title  ;  so  that  Sir  George  Staunton,  when  told  that 
the  captain  of  the  tolbooth  was  waiting  for  him  in  his  par- 
lor, had  no  idea  of  meeting  his  former  acquaintance,  Jem 
Eatcliffe. 

This,  therefore,  was  another  new  and  most  unpleasant 
surprise,  for  he  had  no  difficulty  in  recollecting  this  man's 
remarkable  features.  The  change,  however,  from  George 
Robertson  to  Sir  George  Staunton  baffled  even  the  pene- 
tration of  Ratcliffe,  and  he  bowed  very  low  to  the  baronet 
and  his  guest,  hoping  Mr.  Butler  would  excuse  his  recol- 
lecting that  he  was  an  old  acquaintance. 

"  And  once  rendered  my  wife  a  piece  of  great  service,'' 
said  Mr.  Butler,  "  for  which  she  sent  you  a  token  of  grate- 
ful acknowledgment,  which  I  hope  came  safe  and  was 
"welcome." 

"  Deil  a  doubt  on't,"  said  Ratcliffe,  with  a  knowing  nod; 
''  but  ye  are  muckle  changed  for  the  better  since  I  saw  ye, 
Maister  Butler." 

"  So  much  so,  that  I  wonder  you  knew  me." 

*'  Aha,  then  !  Deil  a  face  I  see  I  ever  forget,"  said  Rat- 
cliffe ;  while  Sir  George  Staunton,  tied  to  the  stake  and 
incapable  of  escaping,  internally  cursed  the  accuracy  of 
his  memory.  "  And  yet,  sometimes,"  continued  Ratcliffe, 
**  the  sharpest  hand  will  be  taen   in.     There  is  a  face  in  this 

*  See  Ratcliffe.    Note  87. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  503 

very  room,  if  I  might  presume  to  be  sae  bauld,  that  if  1 
didna  ken  the  honorable  person  it  belangs  to,  I  might 
think  it  liad  some  cast  of  an  auld  acquaintance." 

"  I  should  not  be  much  flattered,"  answered  the  Baronet, 
Bternly,  and  roused  by  the  risk  in  which  he  saw  himself 
placed,  •'  if  it  is  to  me  you  mean  to  apply  that  compliment." 

"  By  no  manner  of  means,  sir,"  said  Katcliffe,  bowing  very 
low  ',  "  I  am  come  to  receive  your  honor's  commands,  and  no 
to  trouble  your  honor  wi'  my  poor  observations." 

''Well,  sir,  "  said  Sir  George,  "lam  told  yon  understand 
police  matters  ;  so  do  I ;  to  convince  you  of  which,  here  are 
ten  guineas  of  retaining  fee  ;  I  make  them  fifty  when  you 
can  find  me  certain  notice  of  a  person,  living  or  dead,  whom 
you  will  find  described  in  that  paper.  I  shall  leave  town 
presently  ;  you  may  send  your  written  answer  to  me  to  the 

care  of  Mr.  (naming  his  highly  respectable  agent),  or 

of  his  Grace  the  Lord  High  Commissioner." 

Eatcliffe  bowed  and  withdrew. 

"  I  have  angered  the  proud  peat  now,"  he  said  to  himself, 
*'  by  finding  out  a  likeness  ;  but  if  George  Eobertson's  father 
had  lived  within  a  mile  of  his  mother,  d — n  me  if  I  should 
not  know  what  to  think,  for  as  high  as  he  carries  his  head." 

When  he  was  left  alone  with  Butler,  Sir  George  Staunton 
ordered  tea  and  coffee,  which  were  brought  by  his  valet,  and 
then,  after  considering  with  himself  for  a  minute,  asked  his 
guest  whether  he  had  lately  heard  from  his  wife  and  family. 

Butler,  with  some  surprise  at  the  question,  replied,  "  That 
he  had  received  no  letter  for  some  time  ;  his  wife  was  a  poor 
pen  wo  man." 

''Then,"  said  Sir  George  Staunton,  "I  am  the  first  to 
inform  you  there  has  been  an  invasion  of  your  quiet  premises 
since  you  left  home.  My  wife,  whom  the  Duke  of  Argyle 
had  the  goodness  to  permit  to  use  Eoseneath  Lodge,  while 
she  was  spending  some  weeks  in  your  country,  has  sallied 
across  and  taken  up  her  quarters  in  the  manse,  as  she  says, 
to  be  nearer  the  goats,  whose  milk  she  is  using  ;  but  I  be- 
lieve, in  reality,  because  she  prefers  Mrs.  Butler's  company 
to  that  of  the  respectable  gentleman  who  acts  as  seneschal 
on  the  Duke's  domains." 

Mr.  Butler  said,  "  He  had  often  heard  the  late  Duke  and 
the  present  speak  with  high  respect  of  Lady  Staunton,  and 
was  happy  if  his  house  could  accommodate  any  friend  of 
theirs  ;  it  would  be  but  a  very  slight  acknowledgment  of 
the  many  favors  he  owed  them." 

"  That  does  not  make  Lady  Staunton  and  myself  the  less 


504  WAVERLET  NOVELS 

obliged  to  yonr  hospitality,  sir/*  said  Sir  George.  **  May  I 
inquire  if  you  think  of  returning  home  soon  ?" 

"■in  the  course  of  two  days,"  Mr.  Butler  answered,  ''his 
duty  in  the  Assembly  would  be  ended  ;  and  the  other  matters 
he  had  in  town  being  all  finished,  he  was  desirous  of  return- 
ing to  Dunbartonshire  as  soon  as  he  could  ;  but  he  was  under 
the  necessity  of  transporting  a  considerable  sum  in  bills  and 
money  with  him,  and  therefore  wished  to  travel  in  company 
with  one  or  two  of  his  brethren  of  the  clergy." 

"My escort  will  be  more  safe,"  said  Sir  George  Staunton, 
"  and  1  think  of  setting  off  to-morrow  or  next  day.  If  you 
will  give  me  the  pleasure  of  your  company,  I  will  undertake 
to  deliver  you  and  your  charge  safe  at  the  manse,  provided 
you  will  admit  me  along  with  you." 

Mr.  Butler  gratefully  accepted  of  this  proposal ;  the  ap- 
pointment was  made  accordingly,  and  by  despatches  with  one 
of  Sir  George's  servants,  who  was  sent  forward  for  the  pur- 
pose, the  inhabitants  of  the  manse  of  Knocktarlitie  were  made 
acquainted  with  the  intended  journey  ;  and  the  news  rung 
through  the  whole  vicinity,  "  that  the  minister  was  coming 
back  wi'  a  braw  English  gentleman,  and  a*  the  siller  that 
was  to  pay  for  the  estate  of  Craigsture." 

This  sudden  resolution  of  going  to  Knocktarlitie  had  been 
adopted  by  Sir  George  Staunton  in  consequence  of  the  in- 
cidents of  the  evening.  In  spite  of  his  present  consequence, 
he  felt  he  had  presumed  too  far  in  venturing  so  near  the 
scene  of  his  former  audacious  acts  of  violence,  and  he  knew 
too  well  from  past  experience  the  acuteness  of  a  man  like 
Ratcliffe  again  to  encounter  him.  The  next  two  days  he 
kept  his  lodgings,  under  pretense  of  indisposition,  and  took 
leave,  by  writing,  of  his  noble  friend,  the  High  Commissioner, 
alleging  the  opportunity  of  Mr.  Butler's  company  as  a  reason 
for  leaving  Edinburgh  sooner  than  he  had  proposed.  He 
had  a  long  conference  with  his  agent  on  the  subject  of 
Annaple  Bailzou  ;  and  the  professional  gentleman,  who  was 
the  agent  also  of  the  Argyle  family,  had  directions  to  collect 
all  the  information  which  Ratcliffe  or  others  might  be  able 
to  obtain  concerning  the  fate  of  that  woman  and  the  unfor- 
tunate child,  and,  so  soon  as  anything  transpired  which  had 
the  least  appearance  of  being  important,  that  he  should  send 
an  express  with  it  instantly  to  Knocktarlitie.  These  instruc- 
tions were  backed  with  a  deposit  of  money,  and  a  request 
that  no  expense  might  be  spared  ;  so  that  Sir  George  Staun- 
ton had  little  reason  to  apprehend  negligence  on  the  part  of 
the  persons  entrusted  with  the  commission. 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  505 

The  journey  which  the  brothers  made  in  company  was 
attended  with  more  pleasure,  even  to  !Sir  George  Staunton, 
than  he  had  ventured  to  expect.  His  heart  lightened  in 
spite  of  himself  when  they  lost  sight  of  Edinburgh  ;  and  the 
easy,  sensible  conversation  of  Butler  was  well  calculated  to 
withdraw  his  thoughts  from  painful  reflections.  He  even 
began  to  think  whether  there  could  be  much  difficulty  in 
removing  his  wife's  connections  to  the  rectory  of  Willingham  ; 
it  was  only  on  his  part  procuring  some  still  better  prefer- 
ment for  the  present  incumbent,  and  on  Butler's,  that  he 
should  take  orders  according  to  the  English  Church,  to 
which  he  could  not  conceive  a  possibility  of  his  making 
objection,  and  then  he  had  them  residing  under  his  wing. 
No  doubt,  there  was  pain  in  seeing  Mrs.  Butler,  acquainted, 
as  he  knew  her  to  be,  with  the  full  truth  of  his  evil  history. 
But  then  her  silence,  though  he  had  no  reason  to  complain 
of  her  indiscretion  hitherto,  was  still  more  absolutely  en- 
sured. It  would  keep  his  lady,  also,  both  in  good  temper 
and  in  more  subjection  ;  for  she  was  sometimes  troublesome 
to  him,  by  insisting  on  remaining  in  town  when  he  desired 
to  retire  to  the  country,  alleging  the  total  want  of  society 
at  Willingham.  "  Madam,  your  sister ^is  there,"  would,  he 
thought,  be  a  sufficient  answer  to  this  ready  argument. 

He  sounded  Butler  on  this  subject,  asking  what  he  would 
think  of  an  English  living  of  twelve  hundred  pounds  yearly, 
with  the  burden  of  affording  his  company  now  and  then  to 
a  neighbor  whose  health  was  not  strong,  or  his  spirits  equal. 
"  He  might  meet, 'Mie  said,  "occasionally,  a  very  learned 
and  accomplished  gentleman,  who  was  in  orders  as  a  Catholic 
priest,  but  he  hoped  that  would  be  no  insurmountable  objec- 
tion to  a  man  of  his  liberality  of  sentiment.  What,"  he 
said,  "  would  Mr.  Butler  think  of  as  an  answer,  if  the  offer 
should  be  made  to  him  ?  " 

"  Simply,  that  I  could  not  accept  of  it,"  said  Mr.  Butler. 
"  I  have  no  mind  to  enter  into  the  various  debates  between 
the  churches  ;  but  I  was  brought  up  in  mine  own,  have 
received  her  ordination,  am  satisfied  of  the  truth  of  her 
doccrines,  and  will  die  under  the  banner  I  have  enlisted 
to." 

"  What  may  be  the  value  of  your  preferment  ?"  said  Sir 
George  Staunton,  "  unless  I  am  asking  an  indiscreet 
question." 

"  Probably  one  hundred  a-year,  one  year  with  another, 
besides  my  glebe  and  pasture-ground." 

**  And  you  scruple  to  exchange  that  for  twelve  hundred 


506  WAVERLET  NOVELS 

a-year,  withont  alleging  any  damning  difference  of  doctrine 
betwixt  the  two  churches  of  England  and  Scotland  ?  " 

"  On  that,  sir,  I  have  reserved  my  judgment  ;  there  may 
be  much  good,  and  there  are  certainly  saving  means,  in  both, 
but  every  man  must  act  according  fo  his  own  lights.  I 
hope  I  have  done,  and  am  in  the  course  of  doing,  my  Mas- 
ter's work  in  this  Highland  parish  ;  and  it  would  ill  become 
me,  for  the  sake  of  lucre,  to  leave  my  sheep  in  the  wilder- 
ness. But,  even  in  the  temporal  view  which  you  have  taken 
of  the  matter.  Sir  George,  this  hundred  pounds  a-year  of 
stipend  hath  fed  and  clothed  us,  and  left  us  nothing  to  wish 
for  ;  my  father-in-law's  succession,  and  other  circumstances, 
have  added  a  small  estate  of  about  twice  as  much  more,  and 
how  we  are  to  dispose  of  it  I  do  not  know.  So  I  leave  it  to 
you,  sir,  to  think  if  I  were  wise,  not  having  the  wish  or 
opportunity  of  spending  tl^ree  hundred  a  year,  to  covet  the 
possession  of  four  times  that  sum." 

**  This  is  philosophy,''  said  Sir  George;  "I  have  heard 
of  it,  but  I  never  saw  it  before." 

*' It  is  common  sense,"  replied  Butler,  "which  accords 
with  philosophy  and  religion  more  frequently  than  pedants 
or  zealots  are  apt  to  admit." 

Sir  George  turned  the  subject,  and  did  not  again  resume 
it.  Although  they  travelled  in  Sir  George's  chariot,  he 
seemed  so  much  fatigued  with  the  motion,  that  it  was  neces- 
sary for  him  to  remain  for  a  day  at  a  small  town  called  Mid- 
Calder,  which  was  their  first  stage  from  Edinburgh. 
Glasgow  occupied  another  day,  so  slow  were  their  mo- 
tions. 

They  travelled  on  to  Dunbarton,  where  they  had  resolved 
to  leave  the  equipage,  and  to  hire  a  boat  to  take  them  to 
the  shores  near  the  manse,  as  the  Gare  Loch  lay  betwixt 
them  and  that  point,  besides  the  impossibility  of  traveling 
in  that  district  with  wheel-carriages.  Sir  George's  valet,  a 
man  of  trust,  accompanied  them,  as  also  a  footman  ;  the 
grooms  were  left  with  the  carriage.  Just  as  this  arrange- 
ment was  completed,  which  was  about  four  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon,  an  express  arrived  from  Sir  George's  agent  in 
Edinburgh,  with  a  packet,  which  he  opened  and  read  with 
great  attention,  appearing  much  interested  and  agitated  by 
the  contents.  The  packet  had  been  despatched  very  soon 
after  their  leaving  Edinburgh,  but  the  messenger  had  missed 
the  travelers  by  passing  through  Mid-Calder  in  the  night, 
and  overshot  his  errand  by  getting  to  Eoseneath  before 
them.     He  was  now  on  his  return,  after  having  waited  more 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  607 

than  fonr-and-twenty  liours.  Sir  George  Staunton  instantly 
wrote  back  an  answer,  and,  rewarding  the  messenger  liber- 
ally, desired  him  not  to  sleep  till  he  placed  it  in  his  agent's 
hands. 

At  length  they  embarked  in  the  boat,  which  had  waited 
for  them  sometime.  During  their  voyage,  which  was  slow, 
for  they  were  obliged  to  row  the  whole  way,  and  often  against 
the  tide.  Sir  George  Staunton's  inquiries  ran  chiefly  on  the 
subject  of  the  Highland  banditti  who  had  infested  that 
country  since  the  year  1745,  Butler  informed  him  that  many 
of  them  were  not  native  Highlanders,  but  gipsies,  tinkers,  and 
©ther  men  of  desperate  fortunes,  who  had  taken  advantage 
of  the  confusion  introduced  by  the  civil  war,  the  general 
discontent  of  the  mountaineers,  and  the  unsettled  state  of 
police,  to  practise  their  plundering  trade  with  more  audacity. 
Sir  George  next  inquired  into  their  lives,  their  habits, 
whether  the  violences  wliich  they  committed  were  not  some- 
times atoned  for  by  acts  of  generosity,  and  whether  they 
did  not  possess  the  virtues,  as  well  as  the  vices,  of  savage 
tribes. 

Butler  answered,  that  certainly  they  did  sometimes  show 
sparks  of  generosity,  of  which  even  the  worst  class  of  male- 
factors are  seldom  utterly  divested  ;  but  that  their  evil  pro- 
pensities were  certain  and  regular  principles  of  action,  while 
any  occasional  burst  of  virtuous  feeling  was  only  a  transient 
impulse  not  to  be  reckoned  upon,  and  excited  probably  by 
some  singular  and  unusual  concatenation  of  circumstances. 
In  discussing  these  inquiries,  which  Sir  George  pursued  with 
an  apparent  eagerness  that  rather  surprised  Butler,  the 
latter  chanced  to  mention  the  name  of  Donacha  Dhu  na 
Diinaigh,  with  which  the  reader  is  already  acquainted.  Sir 
George  caught  the  sound  up  eagerly,  and  as  if  it  conveyed 
particular  interest  to  his  ear.  fie  made  the  most  minute  in- 
quiries concerning  the  man  whom  he  mentioned,  the  number 
of  his  gang,  and  even  the  appearance  of  those  who  belonged 
to  it.  Upon  these  points  Butler  could  give  little  answer. 
The  man  had  a  name  among  the  lower  class,  but  his  exploits 
were  considerably  exaggerated  ;  he  had  always  one  or  two 
fellows  with  him,  but  never  aspired  to  the  command  of  above 
three  or  four.  In  short,  he  knew  little  about  him,  and  the 
small  acquaintance  he  had,  had  by  no  means  inclined  him  to 
desire  more. 

"  Nevertheless,  I  should  like  to  see  him  some  of  these 
days." 

'*  That  would  be  a  dangerous  meeting.  Sir  George,  unlese 


508  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

you  mean  we  are  to  see  liim  receive  his  deserts  from  the  law, 
and  then  it  were  a  melancholy  one." 

"  Use  every  man  according  to  liis  deserts,  Mr.  Butler,  and 
who  shall  escape  whipping  ?  But  I  am  talking  riddles  to 
you.  I  will  exj)lain  them  more  fully  to  you  when  I  have 
spoken  over  the  subject  with  Lady  Staunton.  Pull  away,  my 
lads,"  he  added,  addressing  himself  to  the  rowers;  **the 
clouds  threaten  us  with  a  storm." 

In  fact,  the  dead  and  heavy  closeness  of  the  air,  the  huge 
piles  of  clouds  which  assembled  in  the  western  horizon,  and 
glowed  like  a  furnace  under  the  influence  of  the  setting  sun, 
that  awful  stillness  in  which  nature  seems  to  expect  the 
thunderburst,  as  a  condemned  soldier  waits  for  the  platoon- 
fire  which  is  to  stretch  him  on  the  earth — all  betokened  a 
speedy  storm.  Large  broad  drops  fell  from  time  to  time, 
and  induced  the  gentlemen  to  assume  the  boat-cloaks;  but 
the  rain  again  ceased,  and  the  oppressive  heat,  so  unusual 
in  Scotland  in  the  end  of  May,  inclined  them  to  throw  them 
aside.  ''There  is  something  solemn  in  this  delay  of  the 
storm,*'  said  Sir  George  ;  "  it  seems  as  if  it  suspended  its 
peal  till  it  solemnized  some  important  event  in  the  world 
below." 

"Alas  !"  replied  Butler,  "  what  are  we,  that  the  laws  of 
nature  should  correspond  in  their  march  with  our  ephemeral 
deeds  or  sufferings  ?  The  clouds  will  burst  when  surcharged 
with  the  electric  fluid,  whether  a  goat  is  falling  at  that  in- 
stant from  the  cliffs  of  Arran  or  a  hero  expiring  on  the  field 
of  battle  he  has  won." 

"The  mind  delights  to  deem  it  otherwise,"  said  Sir  George 
Staunton  ;  "  and  to  dwell  on  the  fate  of  humanity  as  on  that 
which  is  the  prime  central  movement  of  the  mighty  machine. 
We  love  not  to  think  that  we  shall  mix  with  the  ages  that 
have  gone  before  us,  as  these  broad  black  raindrops  mingle 
with  the  waste  of  waters,  making  a  trifling  and  momentary 
eddy,  and  are  then  lost  forever." 

'•'  Forever  !  We  are  not — we  cannot  be  lost  forever,"  said 
Butler,  looking  upward  ;  *'  death  is  to  us  change,  not  con- 
summation, and  the  commencement  of  a  new  existence,  cor- 
responding in  character  to  the  deeds  which  we  have  done  in 
the  body." 

While  they  agitated  these  grave  subjects,  to  which  the 
solemnity  of  the  approaching  storm  naturally  led  them,  their 
voyage  threatened  to  be  more  tedious  than  they  expected,  for 
gusts  of  wind,  which  rose  and  fell  with  sudden  impetuosity, 
swept  the  bosom  of  the  firth,  and  impeded  the  efforts  of  the 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  509 

rowers.  ^They  had  now  only  to  double  a  small  headland  in 
order  to  get  to  the  proper  landing-place  in  the  mouth  of  the 
little  river  ;  but  in  the  state  of  the  weatlier,  and  the  boat 
being  heavy,  this  was  like  to  be  a  work  of  time,  and  in  the 
mean  while  they  must  necessarily  be  exposed  to  the  storm. 

"  Could  we  not  land  on  this  side  of  the  headland,"  asked 
Sir  George,  "  and  so  gain  some  shelter  ?  " 

Butler  knew  of  no  landing-place,  at  least  none  affording  a 
convenient  or  even  practicable  passage  up  the  rocks  which 
surrounded  the  shore. 

"Think  again,'^  said  Sir  George  Staunton;  *'the  storm 
will  soon  be  violent." 

"  Hout,  ay,"  said  one  of  the  boatmen,  "  there's  the  Caird's 
Cove  ;  but  we  dinna  tell  the  minister  about  it,  and  I  am  no 
sure  if  I  can  steer  the  boat  to  it,  the  bay  is  sae  fu'  o'  shoals 
and  sunk  rocks." 

"Try,"  said  Sir  George,  "  and  I  will  give  you  half-a- 
guinea." 

The  old  fellow  took  the  helm,  and  observed,  "That  if 
they  could  get  in,  there  was  a  steep  path  up  from  the  beach, 
and  half  an  hour's  walk  from  thence  to  the  manse." 

"Are  you  sure  you  know  the  way  ?"  said  Butler  to  the 
old  man. 

"  I  maybe  kenn'd  it  a  wee  better  fifteen  years  syne,  when 
Dandie  Wilson  was  in  the  firth  wi'  his  clean-gauging  lugger. 
I  mind  Dandie  had  a  wild  young  Englisher  wi'  him,  that 
they  ca'd " 

"  If  you  chatter  so  much,"  said  Sir  George  Staunton, 
"  you  will  have  the  boat  on  the  Grindstone  ;  bring  that  white 
rock  in  a  line  with  the  steeple." 

"  By  G — ,"  said  the  venteran,  staring,  "  I  think  your 
honor  kens  the  bay  as  weel  as  me.  Your  hoiioi"'s  nose  has 
been  on  the  Grindstane  ere  now,  I'm  thinking." 

As  they  spoke  thus,  they  approached  the  little  cove,  which, 
concealed  behind  crags,  and  defended  on  every  point  by 
shallows  and  sunken  rocks,  could  scarce  be  discovered  or  ap- 
proached, except  by  those  intimate  with  the  navigation.  An 
old  shattered  boat  was  already  drawn  up  on  the  beach  within 
the  cove,  close  beneath  the  trees,  and  with  precautions  for 
concealment. 

Upon  observing  this  vessel,  Butler  remarked  to  his  com- 
panion, "  It  is  impossible  for  you  to  conceive.  Sir  George,  the 
difficulty  I  have  had  with  my  poor  people,  in  teaching  them 
the  guilt  and  the  danger  of  this  contraband  trade  ;  yet  they 
have   perpetually    before   their  eyes  all  its  dangerous  con- 


510  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

sequences.  I  do  not  know  anything  that  more  effectually 
depraves  and  ruins  their  moral  and  religious  principles." 

Sir  George  forced  himself  to  say  something  in  a  low  voice, 
about  the  spirit  of  adventure  natural  to  youth,  and  that  un- 
questionably many  would  become  wiser  as  they  grew  older. 

"  Too  seldom,  sir,"  replied  Butler.  "  If  they  have  been 
deeply  engaged,  and  especially  if  they  have  mingled  in  the 
scenes  of  violence  and  blood  to  which  their  occupation 
naturally  leads,  I  have  observed  that,  sooner  or  later,  they 
come  to  an  evil  end.  Experience,  as  well  as  Scripture, 
teaches  us,  Sir  George,  that  mischief  shall  hunt  the  violent 
man,  and  that  the  blood  thirsty  man  shall  not  live  half  hia 
days.     But  take  my  arm  to  help  you  ashore." 

Sir  George  needed  assistance,  for  he  was  contrasting  in  his 
altered  thought  the  different  feelings  of  mind  and  frame 
with  which  he  had  formerly  frequented  the  same  place.  As 
they  landed,  a  low  growl  of  thunder  was  heard  at  a  dis- 
tance. 

"  That  is  ominous,  Mr,  Butler,"  said  Sir  George. 

"  Intonuit  loevum :  it  is  ominous  of  good,  then,"  answered 
Butler,  smiling. 

The  boatmen  were  ordered  to  make  the  best  of  their  way 
round  the  headland  to  the  ordinary  landing-place  ;  the  two 
gentlemen,  followed  by  their  servant,  sought  their  way  by  a 
blind  and  tangled  jjath,  through  a  close  copsewood,  to  the 
manse  of  Knocktarlitie,  where  their  arrival  was  anxiously 
expected. 

The  sisters  in  vain  had  expected  their  husbands'  return  on 
the  preceding  day,  which  was  that  appointed  by  Sir  George's 
letter.  The  delay  of  the  travelers  at  Calder  had  occasioned 
this  breach  of  appointment.  The  inhabitants  of  the  manse 
began  even  to  doubt  whether  they  would  arrive  on  the  pres- 
ent day.  Lady  Staunton  felt  this  hope  of  delay  as  a  brief 
reprieve  ;  for  she  dreaded  the  pangs  which  her  husband's 
pride  must  undergo  at  meeting  with  a  sister-in-iaw  to  whom 
the  whole  of  his  unhappy  and  dishonorable  history  was  too 
well  known.  She  knew,  whatever  force  or  constraint  he 
might  put  upon  his  feelings  in  public,  that  she  herself  must 
be  doomed  to  see  them  display  themselves  in  full  vehemence  in 
secret — consume  his  health,  destroy  his  temper,  and  render 
him  at  once  an  object  of  dread  and  compassion.  Again  and 
again  she  cautioned  Jeanie  to  display  no  tokens  of  recogni- 
tion, but  to  receive  him  as  a  perfect  stranger,  and  again  and 
again  Jeanie  renewed  her  promise  to  comply  with  her  wishes. 


THE  HEART  GF  MIDLOTHIAN  611 

Jeanie  herself  could  not  fail  to  bestow  an  anxious  thought 
on  the  awkwardness  of  the  approaching  meeting  ;  but  her 
conscience  was  ungalled,  and  then  she  was  cumbered  with 
many  household  cares  of  an  unusual  nature,  which,  joined 
to  the  anxious  wish  once  more  to  see  Butler,  after  an  absence 
of  unusual  length,  made  her  extremely  desirous  that  the 
travelers  should  arrive  as  soon  as  possible.  And — why  should 
I  disguise  the  truth  ? — ever  and  anon  a  thought  stole  across 
her  mind  that  her  gala  dinner  had  now  been  postponed  for 
two  days  ;  and  how  few  of  the  dishes,  after  every  art  of  her 
simple  cuisine  had  been  exerted  to  dress  them,  could  with 
any  credit  or  propriety  appear  again  upon  the  third  ;  and 
what  was  she  to  do  with  the  rest  ?  Upon  this  last  subject 
she  was  saved  the  trouble  of  farther  deliberation,  by  the  sud- 
den appearance  of  the  Captain  at  the  head  of  half  a  dozen 
stout  fellows,  dressed  and  armed  in  the  Highland  fashion. 

"  Goot-morrow  morning  to  ye,  Leddy  Staunton,  and  I  hope 
I  hae  the  pleasure  to  see  ye  weel  ?  And  goot-morrow  to  you, 
goot  Mrs.  Putler  ;  I  do  peg  you  will  order  some  victuals  and 
ale  and  prandy  for  the  lads,  for  we  hae  peen  out  on  firth  and 
moor  since  afore  daylight,  and  a*  to  no  purpose  neither — 
Cot  tam  ! " 

So  saying,  he  sate  down,  pushed  back  his  brigadier  wig, 
and  wiped  his  head  with  an  air  of  easy  importance,  totally 
regardless  of  the  look  of  well-bred  astonishment  by  which 
Lady  Staunton  endeavored  to  make  him  comprehend  that  he 
was  assuming  too  great  a  liberty. 

''It  is  some  comfort,  when  one  has  had  a  sair tussle," con- 
tinued the  Captain,  acldressing  Lady  Staunton,  with  an  air 
of  gallantry,  "that  it  is  in  a  fair  leddy's  service,  or  in  the 
service  of  a  gentleman  whilk  has  a  fair  leddy,  whilk  is  the 
same  thing,  since  serving  the  husband  is  serving  the  wife,  as 
Mrs.  Putler  does  very  weel  know.'^ 

"  Really,  sir,'*  said  Lady  Staunton,  *'as  you  seem  to  in- 
tend this  compliment  for  me,  I  am  at  a  loss  to  know  what 
interest  Sir  George  or  I  can  have  in  your  movements  this 
morning." 

*'  0  Cot  tam  !  this  is  too  cruel,  my  leddy  ;  as  if  it  was  not 
py  special  express  from  his  Grace's  honorable  agent  and  com- 
missioner at  Edinburgh,  with  a  warrant  conform,  that  I  was 
to  seek  for  and  apprehend  Donacha  Dhu  na  Dunaigh,  and 
pring  him  pefore  myself  and  Sir  George  Staunton,  that  he 
may  have  his  deserts,  that  is  to  say,  the  gallows,  whilk  he 
has  doubtless  deserved,  py  peing  the  means  of  frightening 
your  leddyship,  as  weel  as  for  something  of  less  importance." 


512  WAVE  RLE  Y  NOVELS 

"  Frightening  me  !  "  said  her  ladyship.  "  Why,  I  nevei 
wrote  to  Sir  George  about  my  alarm  at  the  waterfall." 

"  Then  he  must  have  heard  it  otherwise  ;  for  what  else 
can  give  him  sic  an  earnest  tesire  to  see  this  rapscallion,  that 
I  maun  rip  the  liaill  mosses  and  muirs  in  the  country  for 
him,  as  if  I  were  to  get  something  for  finding  him,  when  the 
pest  o't  might  pe  a  pall  through  my  prains  ?  " 

"  Can  it  be  really  true  that  it  is  on  Sir  George's  account 
that  you  have  been  attempting  to  apprehend  this  fellow  ?  " 

"Py  Cot,  it  is  for  no  other  cause  that  I  know  than  his 
honor's  pleasure  ;  for  the  creature  might  hae  gone  on  in  a 
decent  quiet  way  for  me,  sae  lang  as  he  respectit  the  Duke's 
pounds  ;  put  reason  goot  he  suld  be  taen,  and  hangit  to  poot, 
if  it  may  pleasure  ony  honorable  shentleman  that  is  the 
Duke's  friend.  Sae  I  got  the  express  over  night,  and  I 
caused  warn  half  a  score  of  pretty  lads  and  was  up  in  the 
morning  pef ore  the  sun,  an'  I  garr'd  the  lads  take  their  kilts 
and  short  coats." 

"  I  wonder  you  did  that,  Captain,"  said  Mrs.  Butler, 
"  when  you  know  the  Act  of  Parliament  against  wearing  the 
Highland  dress." 

"  Hout,  tout,  ne'er  fasli  your  thumb,  Mrs.  Putler.  The 
law  is  put  twa-tliree  years  auld  yet,  and  is  ower  young  to  hae 
come  our  length ;  and  besides,  how  is  the  lads  to  climb  the 
praes  wi'  thae  tamn'd  breekens  on  them  ?  It  makes  me  sick 
to  see  them.  Put  ony  how,  I  thought  I  kenn'd  Donacha's 
haunts  gay  and  weel,  and  I  was  at  the  place  where  he  had 
rested  yestreen  ;  for  I  saw  the  leaves  the  limmers  had  lain 
on.  and  tlie  ashes  of  them  ;  by  the  same  token,  there  was  a 
pit  greeshoch  purning  yet.  I  am  thinking  they  got  some 
word  out  o'  the  island  what  was  intended.  I  sought  every 
glen  and  clench,  as  if  I  had  been  deer-stalking,  but  teil  a 
wauff  of  his  coat-tail  could  I  see — Cot  tam  ! " 

"  He'll  be  away  down  the  firth  to  Cowall,"  said  David  ; 
and  Reuben,  who  had  been  out  early  that  morning  a-nutting, 
observed,  "  That  he  had  seen  a  boat  making  for  the  Caird's 
Cove  "  ;  a  place  well  known  to  the  boys,  though  their  less 
adventurous  father  was  ignorant  of  its  existence. 

"  Py  Cot,"  said  Duncan,  '"'  then  I  will  stay  here  no  longer 
than  to  trink  this  very  horn  of  prandy  and  water,  for  it  is 
very  possible  they  will  pe  in  the  wood.  Donacha's  a  clever 
fellow,  and  maype  thinks  it  pest  to  sit  next  the  chimley  when 
the  lum  reeks.  He  thought  naebody  would  look  for  him 
sae  near  hand  !  I  peg  your  leddyship  will  excuse  my  aprupt 
departure,  as  I  will  return  forthwith,  and  I  will  either  priug 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  618 

on  Donacha  in  life  or  else  his  head,  whilk  I  dare  to  say  will 
e  as  satisfactory.  And  I  hope  to  pass  a  pleasant  evening 
with  your  leddyship  ;  and  I  hope  to  have  mine  revenges  on 
Mr.  Putler  at  packgammon,  for  the  four  pennies  whilk  lie 
won,  for  he  will  be  surely  at  home  soon,  or  else  he  will  have 
a  wet  journey,  seeing  it  is  apout  to  pe  a  scud." 

Thus  saying,  with  many  scrapes  and  bows,  and  apologies 
for  leaving  them,  which  were  very  readily  received,  and 
reiterated  assurances  of  his  speedy  return,  of  tlie  sincerity 
whereof  Mrs.  Butler  entertained  no  doubt,  so  long  as  her 
best  graybeard  of  brandy  was  upon  duty,  Duncan  left  the 
manse,  collected  his  followers,  and  began  to  scour  the  close 
and  entangled  wood  which  lay  between  the  little  glen  and 
the  Caird's  Cove.  David,  who  was  a  favorite  with  the  Cap- 
tain, on  account  of  his  spirit  and  courage,  took  the  oppor- 
tunity of  escaping  to  attend  the  investigation  of  that  great 
man. 

3i 


OHAPTER  m 

I  did  send  for  thee, 

That  Talbot's  name  might  be  in  thee  reAdved, 
When  sapless  age  and  weak  unable  limbs 
Should  bring  thy  father  to  his  drooping  chair. 
But — O  malignant  and  ill-boding  stars  I — 

Henrt/  VI.  Parti. 

DuNCAN"  and  his  party  had  not  proceeded  very  far  in  the 
direction  of  the  Caird's  Cove  before  they  heard  a  shot,  which 
was  quickly  followed  by  one  or  two  others.  "  Some  tamn'd 
villains  among  the  roe-deer,"  said  Duncan  ;  ''look  sharp 
out,  lads." 

The  clash  of  swords  was  next  heard,  and  Duncan  and  his 
myrmidons,  hastening  to  the  spot,  found  Butler  and  Sir 
George  Staunton's  servant  in  the  hands  of  four  ruffians. 
Sir  George  himself  lay  stretched  on  the  ground,  with  his 
drawn  sword  in  his  hand.  Duncan,  who  was  as  brave  as  a 
lion,  instantly  fired  his  pistol  at  the  leader  of  the  band, 
unsheathed  his  sword,  cried  out  to  his  men,  "  Claymore  I" 
and  run  his  weapon  through  the  body  of  the  fellow  whom 
he  had  previously  wounded,  who  was  no  other  than  Don- 
acha  Dhu  na  Dunaigh  himself.  The  other  banditti  were 
speedily  overpowered,  excepting  one  young  lad,  who  made 
wonderful  resistance  for  his  years,  and  was  at  length  secured 
with  difficulty. 

Butler,  so  soon  as  he  was  Kberated  from  the  ruffians,  ran 
to  raise  Sir  George  Staunton  ;  but  life  had  wholly  left  him. 

"  A  great  misfortune,"  said  Duncan  ;  ''I  think  it  will 
pe  pest  that  I  go  forward  to  intimate  it  to  the  coot  leddy. 
Tavie,  my  dear,  you  hae  smelled  pouther  for  the  first  time 
this  day.  Take  my  sword  and  Jiack  off  Donacha's  head, 
whilk  will  pe  coot  practise  for  you  against  the  time  yon 
may  wish  to  do  the  same  kindness  to  a  living  shentleman  ; 
or  hould,  as  your  father  does  not  approve,  you  may  leave 
it  alone,  as  he  will  pe  a  greater  object  of  satisfaction  to 
Leddy  Staunton  to  see  him  entire  ;  and  I  hope  she  will  do 
me  the  credit  to  pelieve  that  I  can  af enge  a  shentleman's 
plood  fery  speedily  and  well." 

Such  was  the  observation  of  a  man  too  much  accustomed 

514 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  616 

to  the  ancient  state  of  manners  in  the  Highlands  to  look 
upon  the  issue  of  such  a  skirmish  as  anything  worthy  of 
wonder  or  emotion. 

We  will  not  attempt  to  describe  the  very  contrary  effect 
which  the  unexpected  disaster  produced  upon  Lady  Staun- 
ton, when  the  bloody  corpse  of  her  husband  was  brought  to 
the  house,  where  she  expected  to  meet  him  alive  and  well. 
All  was  forgotten  but  that  he  was  the  lover  of  her  youth  ; 
and,  whatever  were  his  faults  to  the  world,  that  he  had 
towards  her  exhibited  only  those  that  arose  from  the  in- 
equality of  spirits  and  temper  incident  to  a  situation  of  un- 
paralleled difficulty.  In  the  vivacity  of  her  grief  she  gave 
way  to  all  the  natural  irritability  of  her  temper  ;  shriek  fol- 
lowed shriek,  and  swoon  succeeded  to  swoon.  It  required 
all  Jeanie's  watchful  affection  to  prevent  her  from  making 
known,  in  these  paroxysms  of  affliction,  much  which  it  wag 
of  the  highest  importance  that  she  should  keep  secret. 

At  length  silence  and  exhaustion  succeeded  to  frenzy, 
and  Jeanie  stole  out  to  take  counsel  with  her  husband,  and 
to  exhort  him  to  anticipate  the  Captain^s  interference  by 
taking  possession  in  Lady  Staunton^s  name  of  the  private 
papers  of  her  deceased  husband.  To  the  utter  astonish- 
ment of  Butler,  she  now  for  the  first  time  explained  the 
relation  betwixt  herself  and  Lady  Staunton,  which  author- 
ized, nay,  demanded,  that  he  should  prevent  any  stranger 
from  being  unnecessarily  made  acquainted  with  her  family 
affairs.  It  was  in  such  a  crisis  that  Jeanie's  active  and 
undaunted  habits  of  virtuous  exertion  were  most  conspic- 
uous. "While  the  Captain's  attention  was  still  engaged  by 
a  prolonged  refreshment,  and  a  very  tedious  examination, 
in  Gaelic  and  English,  of  all  the  prisoners,  and  every 
other  witness  of  the  fatal  transaction,  she  had  tlie  body 
of  her  brother-in-law  undressed  and  properly  disposed.  It 
then  appeared,  from  the  crucifix,  the  beads,  and  the  shirt 
of  hair  which  he  wore  next  his  person,  that  his  sense  of 
guilt  had  induced  him  to  receive  the  dogmata  of  a  reli- 
gion which  pretends,  by  the  maceration  of  the  body,  to 
expiate  the  crimes  of  the  soul.  In  the  packet  of  papers 
which  the  express  had  brought  to  Sir  George  Staunton 
from  Edinburgh,  and  which  Butler,  authorized  by  his  con- 
nection with  the  deceased,  did  not  scruple  to  examine,  he 
found  new  and  astonishing  intelligence,  which  gave  him 
reason  to  thank  God  he  had  taken  that  measure. 

Eatcliffe,    to  whom    all  sorts  of   misdeeds  and    misdoers 
wwe  familiar,   instigated   by   the   promised   reward,  soon 


516  WAVERLEY  JSiOVELS 

fonnd  himself  in  a  condition  to  trace  tlie  infant  of  these 
unhappy  parents.  The  woman  to  whom  Meg  Murdockson 
had  sold  that  most  unfortunate  child  had  made  it  the 
companion  of  her  wanderings  and  her  beggary  until  he 
was  about  seven  or  eight  years  old,  when,  as  Eatcliffe 
learned  from  a  companion  of  hers,  then  in  the  correction- 
house  of  Edinburgh,  she  sold  him  in  her  turn  to  Donacha 
Dhu  na  Dunaigh.  This  man,  to  whom  no  act  of  mischief 
was  unknown,  was  occasionally  an  agent  in  a  horrible 
trade  then  carried  on  betwixt  Scotland  and  America,  for 
supplying  the  plantations  with  servants,  by  means  of  kid- 
napping, as  it  was  termed,  both  men  and  women,  but 
especially  children  under  age.  Here  Eatcliffe  lost  sight 
of  the  boy,  but  had  no  doubt  but  Donacha  Dhu  could 
give  an  account  of  him.  The  gentleman  of  the  law,  so  often 
mentioned,  despatched  therefore  an  express  with  a  letter  to 
Sir  George  Staunton,  and  another  covering  a  warrant  for 
apprehension  of  Donacha,  with  instructions  to  the  Captain  of 
Knockdunder  to  exert  his  utmost  energy  for  that  purpose. 

Possessed  of  this  information,  and  with  a  mind  agitated 
by  the  most  gloomy  apprehensions,  Butler  now  joined  the 
Captain,  and  obtained  from  him  with  some  difficulty  a  sight 
of  the  examinations.  These,  with  a  few  questions  to  the 
elder  of  the  prisoners,  soon  confirmed  the  most  dreadful  of 
Butler's  anticipations.  We  give  the  heads  of  the  informa- 
tion, without  descending  into  minute  details. 

Donacha  Dhu  had  indeed  purchased  Effie's  unhappy 
child,  with  the  purpose  of  selling  it  to  the  American  trad- 
ers, whom  he  had  been  in  the  habit  of  supplying  with 
human  flesh.  But  no  opportunity  occurred  for  some  time  ; 
and  the  boy,  who  was  known  by  the  name  of  "  The 
"Whistler,"  made  some  impression  on  the  heart  and  affections 
even  of  this  rude  savage,  perhaps  because  he  saw  in  him 
flashes  of  a  spirit  as  fierce  and  vindictive  as  his  own.  When 
Donacha  struck  or  threatened  him — a  very  common  occur- 
rence— he  did  not  answer  with  complaints  and  entreaties 
like  other  children,  but  with  oaths  and  efforts  at  revenge ; 
he  had  all  the  wild  merit,  too,  by  which  Woggarwolie's 
arrow-bearing  page  won  the  hard  heart  of  his  master  : 

Like  a  wild  cub,  rear'd  at  the  ruffian's  feet, 
He  could  say  biting  jests,  bold  ditties  sing, 
And  quaff  his  foaming  bumper  at  the  board, 
With  all  the  mockery  of  a  little  man.* 
^  ■■  ■  I 

*  EthwaM. 


THE  HE  A  R  T  O  F  MIDLO  TUIA  N  517 

In  short,  as  Doiiaclui  Dim  siiid,  the  Whistler  was  a  born 
imp  of  Satan,  and  therefore  he  should  never  leave  him. 
Accordingly,  from  his  eleventh  year  forward,  he  was  one  of 
the  band,  and  often  engaged  in  acts  of  violence.  'The  last 
of  these  was  more  immediately  occasioned  by  the  researches 
which  the  Whistler's  real  father  made  after  him  whom  he 
had  been  taught  to  consider  as  such.  Donacha  Dhu'sfears 
had  been  for  some  time  excited  by  the  strength  of  the 
means  which  began  now  to  be  emj)loyed  against  i)ersons  of 
his  description.  He  was  sensible  he  existed  only  by  the 
precarious  indulgence  of  his  namesake,  Duncan  of  Knock- 
dunder,  who  was  used  to  boast  that  he  could  put  him  down 
or  string  him  up  when  he  had  a  mind.  He  resolved  to 
leave  the  kingdom  by  means  of  one  of  those  sloops  which 
were  engaged  in  the  traffic  of  his  •Id  kidnapping  friends, 
and  which  was  about  to  sail  for  America  ;  but  he  was  desir- 
ous first  to  strike  a  bold  stroke. 

The  ruffian's  cupidity  was  excited  by  the  intelligence  that 
a  wealthy  Englishman  was  coming  to  the  manse.  He  had 
neither  forgotten  the  Whistler's  report  of  the  gold  he  had 
seen  in  Lady  Staunton's  purse,  nor  his  old  vow  of  revenge 
against  the  minister  ;  and,  to  bring  the  whole  to  a  point, 
he  conceived  the  hope  of  appropriating  the  money  which, 
according  to  the  general  report  of  the  country,  the  minis- 
ter was  to  bring  from  Edinburgh  to  pay  for  his  new  pur- 
chase. While  he  was  considering  how  he  might  best  ac- 
complish his  purpose,  he  received  the  intelligence  from  one 
quarter  that  the  vessel  in  which  he  proposed  to  sail  was  to 
sail  immediately  from  Greenock  ;  from  another,  that  the 
minister  and  a  rich  English  lord,  with  a  great  many  thou- 
sand pounds,  were  expected  the  next  evening  at  the  manse ; 
and  from  a  third,  that  he  must  consult  his  safety  by  leav- 
ing his  ordinary  haunts  as  soon  as  possible,  for  that  the 
Captain  had  ordered  out  a  party  to  scour  the  glens  for  him 
at  break  of  day.  Donacha  laid  his  plans  with  promptitude 
and  decision.  He  embarked  with  the  Whistler  and  two 
others  of  his  band  (whom,  by  the  by,  he  meant  to  sell  to  the 
kidnappers),  and  set  sail  for  the  Caird's  Cove.  He  intended 
to  lurk  till  nightfall  in  the  wood  adjoining  to  this  place, 
which  he  thought  was  too  near  the  habitation  of  men  to 
excite  the  suspicion  of  Duncan  Knock,  then  break  into 
Butler's  peaceful  habitation,  and  flesh  at  once  his  appetite 
for  plunder  and  revenge.  When  his  villainy  was  accom- 
plished, his  boat  was  to  convey  him  to  the  vessel,  which, 
according  to  previous  agreement  with  the  master,  was  in* 
stantlj  to  set  sail. 


518  WA  VERLE Y  NO  VELS 

This  desperate  design  would  probably  have  suceeeded, 
but  for  the  ruffians  being  discovered  in  their  lurking-place 
by  Sir  George  Staunton  and  Butier,  in  their  accidental  walk 
from  the  Caird's  Cove  towards  the  manse.  Finding  him- 
self detected,  and  at  the  same  time  observing  that  the  ser- 
vant carried  a  casket,  or  strong-box,  Donacha  conceived  that 
both  his  prize  and  his  victims  were  within  his  power,  and 
attacked  the  travelers  without  hesitation.  Shots  were  fired 
and  swords  drawn  on  both  sides  ;  Sir  George  Staunton 
offered  the  bravest  resistance,  till  he  fell,  iis  there  was  too 
much  reason  to  believe,  by  the  hand  of  a  son  so  long  sought, 
and  now  at  length  so  unhappily  met. 

While  Butler  was  half-stunned  with  this  intelligence,  the 
hoarse  voice  of  Knockdunder  added  to  his  consternation — 
"I  will  take  the  liperty  to  take  down  the  pelJ-ropes,  Mr. 
Putler,  as  I  must  pe  taking  order  to  hang  these  idle  people 
np  to-morrow  morning,  to  teach  them  more  consideration 
m  their  doings  in  future." 

Butler  entreated  him  to  remember  the  act  abolishing  the 
heritable  jurisdictions,  and  that  he  ought  to  send  them  to 
Glasgow  or  Inverary,  to  be  tried  by  the  circuit. 

Duncan  scorned  the  proposal. 

"  The  Jurisdiction  Act,"  he  said,  "  had  nothing  to  do 
put  with  the  rebels,  and  specially  not  with  Argyle's  country  : 
and  he  would  hang  the  men  up  all  three  in  one  row  before 
coot  Leddy  Staunton's  windows,  which  would  be  a  creat 
comfort  to  her  in  the  morning  to  see  that  the  coot  gentle- 
man, her  husband,  had  been  suitably  afenged." 

And  the  utmost  length  that  Butler's  most  earnest  en- 
treaties could  prevail  was,  that  he  would  reserve  "  the  twa 
pig  carles  for  the  circuit,  but  as  for  him  they  ca'd  the  Fust- 
ier, he  should  try  how  he  could  fustle  in  a  swinging  tow. 
for  it  suldna  be  said  that  a  shentleman,  friend  to  the  Duke, 
was  killed  in  his  country,  and  his  people  didna  take  at  least 
twa  lives  for  ane." 

Butler  entreated  him  to  spare  the  victim  for  his  soul's 
sake.  But  Knockdunder  answered,  "That  the  soul  of  such 
a  scum  had  been  long  the  tefil's  property,  and  that.  Cot 
tarn  !  he  was  determined  to  gif  the  tefil  his  due." 

All  persuasion  was  in  vain,  and  Duncan  issued  his  man- 
date for  execution  on  the  succeeding  morning.  The  child 
of  guilt  and  misery  was  separated  from  his  companions, 
strongly  pinioned,  and  committed  to  a  separate  room,  of 
which  the  Captain  kept  the  key. 

In  the  silence  of  the  night,  however,  Mrs.  Butler  arose, 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  819 

resolved,  if  possible,  to  avert,  at  least  to  delay,  the  fate  which 
hung  over  her  nephew,  especially  if,  upon  conversing  with 
him.  she  should  see  any  hope  of  his  being  brought  to  better 
temper.  She  had  a  master-key  that  opened  every  lock 
in  the  house  ;  and  at  midnight,  when  all  was  still,  sht 
stood  before  the  eyes  of  the  astonished  young  savage,  as, 
hard  bound  with  cords,  he  lay,  like  a  sheep  designed  for 
slaughter,  upon  a  quantity  of  the  refuse  of  flax  which  filled 
a  corner  in  the  apartment.  Amid  features  sun-burned,  tawnj, 
grimed  with  dirt,  and  obscured  by  his  shaggy  hair  of  a 
rusted  black  color,  Jeanie  tried  in  vain  to  trace  the  likeness 
of  either  of  his  very  handsome  parents.  Yet  how  could  she 
refuse  compassion  to  a  creature  so  young  and  so  wretched — 
so  much  more  wretched  than  even  he  himself  could  be  aware 
of,  since  the  murder  he  had  too  probably  committed  with 
his  own  hand,  but  in  which  he  had  at  any  rate  participated, 
was  in  fact  a  parricide.  She  placed  food  on  a  table  near 
him,  raised  him,  and  slacked  the  cords  on  his  arms,  so  as  to 
permit  him  to  feed  himself.  He  stretched  out  his  hands, 
still  smeared  with  blood,  perhaps  that  of  his  father,  and  he 
ate  voraciously  and  in  silence. 

"  What  is  your  first  name  ?"  said  Jeanie,  by  way  of  open- 
ing the  conversation. 

"  The  Whistler." 

"  But  your  Christian  name,  by  which  you  were  bap- 
tized ?  " 

"  I  never  was  baptized  that  I  know  of.  I  have  no  other 
name  than  the  Whistler." 

"  Poor  unhappy  abandoned  lad  \"  said  Jeanie,  ''What 
would  ye  do  if  you  could  escape  from  this  place,  and  the 
death  you  are  to  die  to-morrow  morning  ?  " 

"Join  wi'  Rob  Roy,  or  wi'  Sergeant  More  Cameron  (noted 
freebooters  at  that  time),  and  revenge  Donacha's  death  on 
all  and  sundry." 

'*  0,  ye  unhappy  boy,"  said  Jeanie,  "do  ye  ken  what  will 
come  o'  ye  when  ye  die  ?" 

"  I  shall  neither  feel  cauld  nor  hunger  more,"  said  the 
youth,  doggedly. 

"  To  let  him  be  executed  in  this  dreadful  state  of  mind 
would  be  to  destroy  baith  body  and  soul,  and  to  let  him  gang 
I  dare  not  ;  what  will  be  done  ?  But  he  is  my  sister's  son — 
my  own  nephew — our  flesh  and  blood  ;  and  his  hands  and 
feet  are  yerked  as  tight  as  cords  can  be  drawn.  Whistler, 
do  the  cords  hurt  you  V* 

"  Very  much," 


520  WAVERLET  novels: 

''But,  if  I  were  to  slacken  them,  3^011  would  harm  me  ?" 
"  No,  I  would  not ;  you  never  harmed  me  or  raine." 
"  There   may  be  good  in  him  yet,"  thought  Jeanie  ;  "  I 
will  try  fair  j)lay  with  him." 

She  cut  his  bonds.  He  stood  upright,  looked  round  with 
a  laugh  of  wild  exultation,  clapped  his  hands  together,  and 
sprung  from  the  ground,  as  if  in  transport  on  finding  him- 
self at  liberty.  He  looked  so  wild  that  Jeanie  trembled  at 
what  she  had  done. 

"  Let  me  out,"  said  the  young  savage. 

"I  wunna,  unless  you  promise " 

"  Then  I'll  make  you  glad  to  let  us  both  out.** 
He  seized  the  lighted  candle  and  threw  it  among  the  flax, 
which  was  instantly  in  a  flame.  Jeanie  screamed,  and  ran 
out  of  the  room  ;  the  prisoner  rushed  past  her,  threw  open 
a  window  in  the  passage,  jumiDcd  into  the  garden,  sprung 
over  its  enclosure,  bounded  through  the  woods  like  a  deer, 
and  gained  the  seashore.  Meantime,  the  fire  was  extin- 
guished ;  but  the  prisoner  was  sought  in  vain.  As  Jeanie 
kept  her  own  secret,  the  share  she  had  in  his  escape  was  not 
discovered  ;  but  they  learned  his  fate  some  time  afterwards  ; 
it  was  as  wild  as  his  life  had  hitherto  been. 

The  anxious  inquiries  of  Butler  at  length  learned  that  the 
youth  had  gained  the  ship  in  which  his  master,  Donacha, 
had  designed  to  embark.  "iB>ui  the  avaricious  shipmaster, 
enured  by  his  evil  trade  to  every  species  of  treachery,  and 
disappointed  of  the  rich  booty  which  Donacha  had  proposed 
to  bring  aboard,  secured  the  person  of  the  fugitive,  and 
having  transported  him  to  America,  sold  him  as  a  slave,  or 
indented  servant,  to  a  A^irginian  planter  far  up  the  country. 
When  these  tidings  reached  Butler,  lie  sent  over  to  America 
a  sufiicient  sum  to  redeem  the  lad  from  slavery,  with  in- 
structions that  measures  should  be  taken  for  improving  his 
mind,  restraining  his  evil  propensities,  and  encouraging 
whatever  good  might  appear  in  his  character.  But  this  aid 
came  too  late.  The  young  man  had  headed  a  conspiracy  in 
which  his  inhuman  master  was  put  to  death,  and  had  then 
fled  to  the  next  tribe  of  wild  Indians.  He  was  never  more 
heard  of  ;  and  it  may  therefore  be  presumed  that  he  lived 
and  died  after  the  manner  of  that  savage  people,  with  whom 
his  previous  habits  had  well  fitted  him  to  associateX 

All  hopes  of  the  young  man's  reformation  being  now 
ended,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Butler  thought  it  could  serve  no  pur- 
pose to  explain  to  Lady  Staunton  a  history  so  full  of  horror. 
She  remained   their  guest  more   than  a  year,  during  the 


THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN  521 

greater  part  of  which  period  her  grief  was  excessive.  In  the 
latter  mouths,  it  assumed  the  appearance  of  listlessness  and 
low  spirits,  which  the  monotony  of  her  sister's  qniet  estab- 
lishment afforded  no  means  of  dissipating.  Ettie,  from  her 
earliest  youth,  was  never  formed  for  a  quiet  low  content. 
Far  different  from  her  sister,  she  required  the  dissipation  of 
society  to  divert  her  sorrow  or  enhance  her  joy.  She  left 
the  seclusion  of  Knocktarlitie  with  tears  of  sincere  affection, 
and  after  heaping  its  inmates  with  all  she  could  think  of 
that  might  be  valuable  in  their  eyes.  But  she  did  leave  it ; 
and  when  the  anguish  of  the  parting  was  over  her  departure 
was  relief  to  both  sisters. 

The  family  at  the  manse  of  Knocktarlitie,  in  their  own 
quiet  happiness,  heard  of  the  well-dowered  and  beautiful 
Lady  Staunton  resuming  her  place  in  the  fashionable  world. 
They  learned  it  by  more  substantial  proof,  for  David  received 
a  commission  ;  and  as  the  military  spirit  of  Bible  Butler 
seemed  to  have  revived  in  him,  his  good  behavior  qualified 
the  envy  of  five  hundred  young  Highland  cadets,  "  come  of 
good  houses,"  who  were  astonished  at  the  rapidity  of  his 
promotion.  Reuben  followed  the  law,  and  rose  more  slowly, 
yet  surely.  Euphemia  Butler,  whose  fortune,  augmented 
by  her  aunt's  generosity,  and  added  to  her  own  beauty,  ren- 
dered her  no  small  prize,  married  a  Highland  laird,  who 
never  asked  the  name  of  her  grandfather,  and  was  loaded  on 
the  occasion  with  presents  from  Lady  Staunton,  which  made 
her  the  envy  of  all  the  beauties  of  Dunbarton  and  Argyle- 
shires. 

After  blazing  nearly  ten  years  in  the  fashionable  world, 
and  hiding,  like  many  of  her  compeers,  an  aching  heart  witK 
a  gay  demeanor,  after  declining  repeated  offers  of  the 
most  respectable  kind  for  a  second  matrimonial  engagement. 
Lady  Staunton  betrayed  the  inward  wound  by  retiring  to 
the  Continent  and  taking  up  her  abode  in  the  convent  where 
she  had  received  her  education.  She  never  took  the  veil, 
but  lived  and  died  in  severe  seclusion,  and  in  the  practise  oJf 
the  Roman  Catholic  religion,  in  all  its  formal  observances, 
vigils,  and  austerities. 

Jeanie  had  so  much  of  her  father's  spirit  as  to  sorrow 
bitterly  for  this  apostacy,  and  Butler  joined  in  the  regret. 
"  Yet  any  religion,  however  imperfect,"  he  said,  "  was  better 
than  cold  scepticism,  or  the  hurrying  din  of  dissipation, 
which  fills  the  ears  of  the  worldlings,  until  they  care  for 
none  of  these  things." 

Meanwhile,  happy  in  each  other,  in  the  prosperity  of  theii 


522  WAVER  LEY  NOVELS 

family,  and  the  love  and  honor  of  all  who  knew  them,  this 
simple  pair  lived  beloved  and  died  lamented. 

Eeader — This  tale  will  not  be  told  in  vain,  if  it  shall  be 
found  to  illustrate  the  great  truth  that  guilt^thoug'h  it  may 
attain  temporal  splf^nd^^r.  can  never  confer  real  happiness  ; 
"that  the  evil  consequences  of  our  crimes  long  survive  their 
commission,  and,  like  the  ghosts  of  the  murdered,  forever 
haunt  the  steps  of  the  malefactor  ;  and  that  the  paths  of 
virtue,  though  seldom  those  of  worldly  greatness,  are  always 
those  of  pleasantness  and  peace. 

L' Envoy,  hy  Jedediah  Cleishbotham 

Thus  concludeth  the  Tale  of  The  Heart  of  Midlothian, 
which  hath  filled  more  pages  than  I  opined.  The  Heart  of 
Midlothian  is  now  no  more,  or  rather  it  is  transferred  to  the 
extreme  side  of  the  city,  even  as  the  Sieur  Jean  Baptiste 
hath  it,  in  his  pleasant  comedy  called  Le  Medecin  Malgre 
lui,  where  the  simulated  doctor  wittily  replieth  to  a  charge, 
Poquelin  that  he  had  placed  the  heart  on  the  right  side  instead 
of  the  left,  "  Cela  etoit  autrefois  ainsi,  mais  noiis  avons 
change  tout  cela."  Of  which  witty  speech,  if  any  reader  shall 
demand  the  purport,  I  have  only  to  respond,  that  I  teach 
the  French  as  well  as  the  classical  tongues,  at  the  easy  rate  of 
five  shillings  per  quarter,  as  my  advertisements  are  periodi- 
cally making  known  to  the  public. 


NOTES  TO  THE  HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN. 


NOTE  1.— TOMBSTONE  TO  HELEN  WALKER,   p.    XI. 

On  Helen  Walker's  tombstone  in  Irongray  churchyard,  Dumfries- 
shire, there  Is  engraved  the  following  epitapYi,  written  by  Sir  Walter 
Scott:— 

THIS  STONEf  WAS  ERECTED 

BY  THE  AUTHOR  OP  WAVBR'LET 

TO  THE  MEMORY 

OF 

HELEN  WALKER, 

WHO  DIED  IN  THE  YE.\R  OF  GOD  1791. 

This  humble  individual  practised  in  real  Lire 

THE  virtues 

WITH  which  fiction  HAS  INVESTED 

THE  IMAGIN.\,RY  CHARACTER  OP 

JEANIE  DEANS; 
REFUSING  THE  SLIGHTEST  DEPARTURE 

FROM  VHRAjCITY, 
EVEN  TO  S.A.VE  THE  LIFE  OF  A  SISTER, 
SHE  NEVERTHELESS  SHOWED  HE(R 
KINDNEIS'S  AND  FORTITUDE, 
m  RESCUING  HER  FROM  THE  SBVEIRITY  OF  THE  LAW 
AT    THE    EXPENSE    OF   PERSONAL    EXERTIONS 
i  WHICH  THE  TIME  RENDERED  AS  DIFFICULrT 

/  AS  THE  MOTIVE  WAS  LAUDABLE. 

!  RESPECT  THE  GRAVE  OP  POVERTY 

WHEN  COMBINED  WITH  LOVE  OF  TRUTH 
AND  DEAR  AFFEfCTION. 

Erected  October  1S31.  CL«lBg.) 

NOTE  3.— SIR  WALKER  SCOTT'S  REILATIONS  WITH  THE  QUAKERS,  p.  XVn. 

It  Is  341  old  proverb  that  'many  a  true  word  Is  spoken  in  jest. 
The  existence  of  Walter  Sco'tt,  third  son  of  Sir  William  Scott  of  Har- 
den, is  inetructed,  as  it  is  caJled,  by  a  charter  under  the  great  seal, 
'Doirino  Wilkielmo  Scott  de  Harden  militi,  et  Waltero  Scott  suo  filio 

623 


524  WAVE  RLE  T  NOVELS 

legitimo  tertio  genito,  terarum  de  Roberton.'*  The  munificent  old 
gentleman  left  all  ihis  four  sons  considerable  estates,  and  settled  those 
of  Eildrig-  and  Raeburn,  together  with  valuable  possessions  around 
Lessudden,  upon  Walter,  his  third  son,  who  is  ancestor  of  the  Scots 
of  Raeburn,  and  of  the  Author  of  VVaveriey.  He  appears  to  have 
become  a  convert  to  the  doctrine  of  the  Quakers,  or  Friends,  and  a 
great  assertor  of  their  peculiar  tenets.  This  wais  proh'ably  at  the  time 
when  Geoirge  Fox,  .che  celebrated  apostle  of  the  sect,  made  an  expedi- 
tion into  the  south  of  Scotland  about  1657,  on  which  occasion  he  boasts 
that  'as  he  firsit  set  his  horse's  feet  upon  Scottish  ground  he  felt  the 
seed  of  grace  to  sparkle  about  him  like  innumerable  sparks  of  fire.' 
Upon  the  same  occasion,  probably.  Sir  Gideon  Scott  of  Higthchesters, 
second  son  of  Sir  William,  immediate  elder  bro^ther  of  Walter,  and 
ancestor  of  the  Author's  friend  and  kinsman,  the  present  represemta- 
'tive  of  the  family  of  Harden,  also  embraced  the  tenets  of  Quakerism. 
This  last  convert,  Gideon,  entered  into  a  controversy  with  the  Rev. 
James  Kirkton,  author  of  the  Searet  and  True  History  of  the  Ohurch 
of  Scotland,  which  is  noticed  by  my  ingenious  friend,  Mr.  Charles 
KirkpaitJick  Sharpe,  in  his  valuable  and  curious  edition  of  that  work, 
4to,  1817.  Sir  William  Scott,  eldest  of  the  brothers,  remained,  amid 
the  defection  oif  his  two  younger  brethren,  an  orthodox  member  of  the 
Presbyterian  Church,  and  used  such  means  ifor  reclaiming  Walter  of 
Raeburn  from  his  heresy  as  savoured  far  more  of  persecution  ithan 
persuasion.  In  this  he  was  assisted  by  MacDougal  of  M'akereton, 
brother  to  Isabella  MacDougal,  the  wife  of  the  said  Walter,  and  who, 
like  her  husband,  had  confoacued  to  the  Quaker  tenets. 

The  interest  possessed  by  Sir  Williami  Soott  and  Makerston  was 
powerful  enough  to  procure  the  two  following  acts  of  tihe  Privy  Coun- 
cil of  Scotland,  directed  against  Walter  of  Raeburn  as  an  heretic  and 
convert  to  Quakerism,  appointing  him  tlo  be  Imprisoned  first  in  Edin- 
burgh jail,  and  then  in  that  of  Jedburgh;  and  his  children  to  be  taken 
by  force  from  the  society  and  direction  of  their  parents,  and  educated 
at  a  disitance  from  them,  besides  the  assignment  of  a  sum  for  their 
maintenance  sufficient  in  Chose  times  'to  be  burdensome  to  a  moderate 
Scottish  estate: — 

'Apud  Bdin,   vigeaimo  Junil  1665. 

'The  Lords  of  his  Maj.  Privy  Councill  having  reoeived  informa- 
tion that  Scoitt  of  Raeburn,  and  Isobel  Mackdougall,  his  wife,  being 
infected  with  the  error  of  Quakerism,  doe  endeavour  to  breld  and 
tralne  up  William,  Walter,  and  Isobel  iScotts,  their  children,  in  the 
saene  profession,  doe  yrfore  give  order  and  command  to  Sir  William 
Scott  of  Ha-  den,  the  sd  Raeburn's  brother,  to  seperat  and  take  away 
the  sds  Children  ifrom  tIhe  custody  and  society  of  the  sds  parents,  and 
to  cause  educat  and  bring  them  up  in  his  owne  house,  or  any  other 
convenient  place,  and  ordaines  letters  to  be  diredt  at  the  sd  Sir  Will- 
iam's instance  against  Raeburn,  for  a  maintenance  to  the  sds  chil- 
dren, and  that  the  sd.  Sir  Wm.  gave  ane  account  of  his  diligence  wtiith 
all  oonveniency.' 

•Edinburgh,    5th   July  1666. 

'Anent  a  petition  presented  by  Sir  Wm.  Scott  of  Harden,  for  him- 
self and  in  name  and  behalf  'of  the  three  children  of  Walter  Scott  of 
Raeburn.  his  brother,  showing  that  the  Lords  of  Council,  by  a.ne  act 
of  the  22d  (20th)  day  of  Junii  1665,  did  grant  power  and  warrand  to  the 
petitioner  to  separat  and  take  away  Raeburn's  children  from  hi®  fam- 
ily and  education,  and  to  breed  them  in  some  convenient  place,  where 
they  mig'ht  be  free  .from  all  infedtion  in  yr  younger  years  from  t/he 
princepalls  of  Quakerism,  and,  for  maintenance  of  the  sds  children, 
did  ordain  letters  to  be  direct  against  Raeburn;  and.  seeing  the  peti- 
tioner, in  obedience  to  the  sd  'order,  did  take  away  'the  sds  children, 
being  two  sonnes  and  a  daughter,  and  after  some  paines  taken  upon 
them  in  his  owne  family,  hes  sent  them  to  the  city  of  Glasgow,  to  be 
bread  at  schooles,  and  tftiere  to  be  principled  with  the  knowledge  of 
the  true  religion,  and  that  it  is  necessiary  the  Councill  determine  what 
shall  be  the  maintenance  for  qch  Raeburn's  three  children  mjiy  bp 
chained,  e,s  likewayes  that  Raeburn  himself,  being  now  pTisoner  in 

'See  Douglas's  Baronage,    p.   215. 


NOTES  526 

the  Tolbulth  of  Edin.,  where  he  dayley  converses  with  all  the  Quak- 
ers who  are  prisoners  there,  and  others  who  dayly  resont  to  them, 
whereby  he  is  hardened  in  his  .pernitious  opinions  and  principles, 
without  all  ho'pe  of  recovery,  unlesse  he  be  seperate  from  such  per- 
nitious company,  humiii.\-  ilierefore,  desyring  'that  the  Councill  might 
determine  upon  the  soutne  Oif  money  to  be  payed  be  Raeburn,  for  the 
education  of  his  children,  to  the  petitioner,  who  will  be  countable 
yrfore;  and  yt,  in  order  to  his  conversion,  the  place  of  his  imprison- 
ment may  be  changed.  The  Lords  of  his  Maj.  Privy  Councill,  having 
at  length  heard  and  considered  the  forsd  petition,  doe  m'odiiie  the 
soume  of  two  thousand  pounds  Scots,  to  be  payed  yearly  at  the  iterme 
of  Whiitsunday  be  the  sa.d  Vv'alter  Scott  of  Raeburn,  furth  of  his 
estate,  to  the  petitioner,  for  tihe  entertainment  and  education  of  the 
sd  children,  beginning  the  first  termes  payment  yrof  ax  Whitsunday 
last  ifor  the  half  year  preceding,  and  so  lurth  yearly,  at  the  sd  terme 
of  Whitsunday  in  tyme  coming  till  further  orders;  and  ordaines  the 
sd  Walter  Scott  of  Raeburn  to  be  'transported  from  the  Tolbuith  of 
Edr  to  the  prison  of  Jedburgh,  where  his  friends  and  oyrs  may 
have  occasion  to  convert  himu  And  to  the  effect  he  may  be  secured 
from  the  practice  of  oyr  Quakers,  the  sds  Lords  doe  hereby  discharge 
the  magistrates  of  Jedburgh  to  suffer  any  percons  suspect  of  these 
princip'lls  to  have  access  to  )him;  and  in  case  any  contraveen,  that 
they  secure  yr  persons  till  they  be  yrfore  puneist;  and  ordaines  let- 
ters to  be  direct  heirupon  in  form,  as  effeirs.' 

Both  the  sons  thus  harshly  separated  from  their  father  proved 
good  scholars.  'The  eldest,  William,  who  carried  on  the  line  of  Rae- 
burn, was,  like  his  father,  a  deep'  Orientalist;  the  younger,  Walter, 
became  a  good  classical  scholar,  a  great  friend  and  correspondent 
of  the  celebrated  Dr.  Pitcairn,  and  a  Jacobite  so  distinguished  for 
zeal  that  he  made  a  vow  never  to  shave  his  beard  till  the  restoration 
of  the  exiled  family.  This  last  Walter  Scott  was  the  Author's  great- 
grandfather. 

There  is  yet  another  link  betwixt  the  Author  and  the  simpl'e- 
minded  and  excellent  Society  of  Friends,  through  a  proselyte  of  much 
more  importance  than  Walter  Scott  of  Raeburn.  The  celebrated  John 
Swinton  of  Swinton,  nineteenth  'baron  in  descent  of  that  ancient  and 
once  powerful  family,  was.  with  Sir  William  Lockhart  of  Lee,  the 
person  whom  Cromwell  chiefly  trusted  in  the  anariag;ement  of  the 
Scottish  affairs  during  his  usurpation.  After  the  Restoration,  Swin- 
tO'n  was  devoted  as  a  victim  to  the  new  order  of  things,  and  was 
brought  down  in  the  same  vesseJ  which  conveyed  tihe  Marquis  of 
Argyle  to  Edinburg-h,  whc're  that  nobleman  was  tried  and  executed. 
SwintO'n  -was  destined  to  the  same  fate.  -He  had  assumed  the  'habit 
and  entered  into  the  society  of  the  Quakers,  and  appeared  as  one  of 
their  number  before  the  Parliament  of  Scotland.  He  renounced  all 
legal  defence,  though  several  pleas  were  open  to  him  and  answered, 
in  conformity  to  the  iprinciples  of  his  sect,  that  at  the  time  these 
crimes  were  imiputed  to  him  he  was  in  the  gall  of  bitterness  and  bond 
of  iniquity;  but  that  God  Almig'hty  having  since  called  him  to  the 
light,  he  saw  and  acknowledged  these  errors,  and  did  not  refuse  to 
pay  the  forfeit  of  them,  even  though,  in  the  judgment  of  the  Parlia- 
ment, it  s'hould  extend  to  life  itself. 
_  Respect  to  fallen  greatness,  and  to  the  patience  and  calm  resigna- 
tion with  which  a  mian  once  in  high  power  expressed  himself  under 
such  a  change  of  fortune,  found  Swinton  friends;  family  connexions 
and  some  interested  co'nsiderations  of  Middleton,  the  Commissioner, 
joined  to  procure  his  safety,  and  he  was  diismissed,  but  after  a  long 
imprisonment  and  much  dilapidation  of  his  estates.  It  is  said  that 
Swinton's  admonitions  while  confined  in  the  Castle  of  Edinburgh  had 
a  considerable  share  in  converting  to  the  tenets  of  the  Friends  Colonel 
David  Barcl-ay,  then  lying  there  in  garrison.  This  was  the  father  of 
Robert  Barclay,  author  of  the  neleb-rated  Apologv  for  the  Quakers. 
It  may  be  observed  among  the  inconsistencies  of  human  nature,  that 
Kirfcton,  VVo'lrow.  a'nd  other  Presbvterian  aiUbors,  .who  have  detailed 
the  sufferings  of  their  own  sect  ^oir  non-conformity  with  the  estab- 
lished cnurch,  'ceri'sure  the  government  of  the  'time  for  not  exerting 
the  civil  power  a'gainst  the  peaceful  enthusiasts  we  have  treated  of. 
and  some^ex-'pre.ss  particular  chagrin  at  the  escape  of  Swinton.  What- 
^lU^if^^'^'^  ^''?iS'°*'"^2^.f?''  assuming  the  tenets  of  the  Friends,  the 
oad  man  retained  them  falthfuniy  till  the  clo'^e  of  his  life 


526  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

Jeian  Swinton,  prand-daustiter  of  Sir  Zdhxx  .Swinton,  son  of  Judge 
Swinton,  as  the  Quaker  was  usually  termed,  was  the  mother  o£  Anne 
Rutherford,  the  Author's  mother. 

And  thus,  as  in  the  play  of  the  Anti-Jacobin,  the  ghost  of  the 
Author's  grandmother  having  arisen  to  speak  the  (Epilogue,  it  is  full 
time  to  oonlude.  lest  the  reader  should  remonstrate  that  his  desire  to 
know  the  author  of  Waverley  never  included  a  wish  to  be  ac- 
quainted with  his  whole  ancesitry. 

NOTE  3.— Ea^INBURGH  CITY  GUARD,  p.  24 

The  Lord  Provost  was  ex-offlcio  commander  and  colonel  of  the 
corps,  'Which  might  >be  increased  to  ithree  hundred  men  when  the  times 
required  it.  No  other  drum  but  theirs  was  allowed  to  sound  on  the 
High  Street  between  t'he  Luckenbooths  and  the  Netherbow. 

NOTB  4.— LAST  MARCH  OP  THE  CITY  GUARX),   p.   26. 

This  ancient  corps  is  now  entirely  disbanded.  Their  last  march  t» 
do  duty  at  Hallow  Fair  had  something  in  it  affecting.  Their  drumis 
and  fifes  had  been  wont  on  better  days  to  play,  ©n  this  joyous  ©«- 
casion,  the  lively  tune  of 

'Jockey  to  the  fair;' 
but  en  this  final  occasion  the  afflioted  veterans  moved  slowly  to  the 
dirge  of 

'The  last  time  I  came  ower  tihe  mulr.' 

NOTE  5.— THE  KHLPIE'S  VOICE,  p.  29 

There  Is  a  tradition  that,  wMIe  a  little  stream  was  swollen  imto  a 
torrent  by  recent  showers,  the  discontented  voice  of  the  Water  Spirit 
was  heard  to  pronounce  these  words.  At  the  saane  moment  a  man, 
urged  on  by  his  fate,  or  in  Scottish  language,  'fey,'  arrived  at  a  gallop 
and  prepai'ed  to  cross  'the  water.  No  remonistrance  from  the  bystand- 
ers was  of  power  to  stop  him;  he  plunged  into  the  stream  and  per- 
ished. 

NOTE  6.— BESS  WTND,  p.   35 

Miaitland  caUs  it  Best's  Wynd,  and  later  writers  Beth's  Wynd. 
As  the  name  implies,  it  was  an  open  thoroughfare  or  alley  ieadiniff 
from  the  Dawnmarket,  and  extended  in  a  direct  line  between  the  old 
tolbooth  to  near  the  head  of  the  Cowgate.  It  was  partly  destroyed 
by  fire  in  1786,  and  was  totally  removed  in  1809,  preparatory  to  the 
building  of  the  new  libraries  of  the  (Faculty  of  Advocates  and  Writers 
to  the  gignet  (Laing). 

NOTE  7.— LAW  RELATING  TO  CHILD-MURDBR,  p.  45 

The  Scottish  Statute  Book,  anno  1690,  ohaipter  21,  in  consequence 
of  the  great  increase  of  the  crime  of  child-muirder,  both  from  the 
temptations  to  commit  the  offence  and  the  difficulty  of  discovery, 
enacted  a  certain  set  of  presumptions,  which,  in  the  absence  of  di- 
rect proof,  the  jury  were  directed  to  receive  as  evidence  of  the  crime 
having  actually  been  committed.  The  circumstances  selected  for 
this  purpose  were,  that  the  woman  should  have  concealed  her  situa- 
tion during  the  whole  period  of  pregnancy;  that  she  should  not  have 
called  for  help  at  her  delivery;  and  that,  combined  with  these  grounds 
of  suspicion,  the  child  should  be  either  found  dead  or  be  altogether 
missing.  Many  persons  suffered  death  during  the  last  century  under 
this  severe  act.  But  during  the  Author's  memory  a  more  lenient 
course  was  followed,  and  the  female  accused  under  the  act,  and  con- 
scious of  no  competent  defence,  usually  lodged  a  petition  to  the 
Court  of  Justiciary,  denying,  for  form's  sake,  the  tenor  of  the  indict- 
ment, but  stating  that,  as  her  good  name  had  been  destroyed  by  tha 


KOTES  B2T 

charge,  she  was  willing  to  submit  to  sentence  of  banishment,  to 
whioh  the  crown  counsel  usually  consented.  This  lenity  in  practice, 
and  the  comparative  infrequency  of  the  crime  since  the  doom  of  pub- 
lic ecclesiastical  penance  has  been  generally  dfepensed  with,  have  led 
to  the  abolition  of  the  Statute  of  William  and  Mary,  which  is  n'ow  re- 
placed by  another,  imposing  banishment  in  those  circumstances  in 
whicb  tha  crime  was  formerly  capital.  Tihis  alteration  took  place  In 
1808. 

NOTB  t.  ^ENGLISH  TRANSLATION  OP  'PORTA,*  etc.  p.  47, 

Wide  is  the  fronting  gate,  and.   raised  on  high. 
With  adamantine  columns  threats  the  sky; 
Vein  is  the  lorce  of  man,  and  Heaven's  as  vain, 
TV)  crush  the  pillars  whioh  the  pile  sustain, 
Sublime  on  these  a  tower  of  steel  is  rear'd. 

DRYDEN'S   Virgil,    BOOK   VL 

NOTB  9.— JOURNEYiMEN   MECHANICS,    p.    53. 

A  near  relation  of  the  Author's  used  to  tell  of  having  been  stopped 
by  the  rioters  and  escorted  home  in  the  manner  described.  On  reach- 
ing her  own  home,  one  of  her  attendants,  in  appearance  a  'baxter,' 
i.  e.  a  baker'-s  lad,  handed  her  out  of  her  chair,  and  took  leave  with 
a  bow,  which,  in  the  lady's  opinion,  argued  breeding  that  could 
hardly  be  learned  beside  the  oven. 

NOTE  10.— THE  OLD   TOLBOOTH,    p.    55. 

Th«  ancient  tolbooth  of  Edinburgh,  situaited  and  described  as  in 
chapter  vri.,  was  built  by  the  citizens  in  1561,  and  destined  for  the  ac- 
commodation of  Parliament,  as  well  as  of  the  High  Courts  of  Jus- 
tice, and  at  the  same  time  for  the  continement  of  prisoners  for  debt 
or  on  criminal  charges.  Since  the  year  1640,  when  the  present  Parlia- 
ment Housei  was  erected,  the  tolbooth  wais  occupied  as  a  prison  only. 
Gloomy  and  dismal  as  it  was,  Che  situation  in  the  centre  of  the  High 
Street  rendered  it  so  particularly  well-aired,  that  when  the  plague 
laid  waste  the  city,  in  1645,  it  affected  none  within  thesg  melancholy 
precincts.  The  tolbooth  was  removed,  with  the  mass  of  buildings 
in  which  it  was  incorporated,  in  the  Autumn  of  the  year  1817.  At  that 
time  the  kindnesa  of  his  old  schoolfellow  and  fr.end,  Robert  Johnstone, 
Esquire,  'then  I>ean  of  Guild  of  the  city,  wdth  the  liberal  acquiescence 
of  the  persons  who  had  contracted  for  the  worlv,  piocured  for  the 
Author  of  Waverley  the  stones  which  composed  the  gateway,  to- 
gether with  the  door,  and  its  ponderous  fastenings,  which  he  em- 
ployed in  decorating  the  entrance  of  his  kitchen-court  at  Abbots- 
ford.  'To  such  base  offices  may  we  return!'  The  application  of 
these  relics  of  the  Heart  of  Midlothian  to  serve  as  the  postern  gate 
to  a  court  of  modern  offlces  maj  be  justly  ridicuied  as  whimsical; 
but  yet  it  is  not  without  interest  that  we  see  the  gateway  through 
which  so  much  of  the  stormy  politics  of  a  rude  age,  and  the  vice  and 
misery  of  later  times,  had  found  their  passage,  now  occupied  in  the 
service  of  rural  economy.  Last  year,  to  complete  the  change,  a  tom- 
tit was  pleased  to  built  her  nest  within  the  lock  of  the  tolbooth,  a 
Btrong  temptation  to  have  committed  a  sonnet,  had  the  Author,  like 
Tony   Lumpkin,    been   in   a   concatenation   accordingly. 

rt  is  worth  mentioning  that  an,  act  of  beneficence  celebrated  the 
demolition  of  the  Heart  of  Midlothian.  A  subscription,  raised  and 
applied  by  the  worthy  magistrate  above-mentioned,  procured  the 
manumission  of  rr.oFt  of  the  unfortunate  debtors  confined  in  the  old 
jail,  so  that  there  were  few  or  none  transsfcrred  to  the  new  place  of 
conflement. — 

Few  persons  t<ow  living  are  likely  to  remember  the  interior  of  the 
Old  Tolbooth,  w'th  narrow  staircase.  thicK  walls,  and  small  apart- 
ments, nor  to  imagine  that  it  could  ever  have  been  used  for  these 
purposes.  Robert  Chambers,  in  his  Minor  Antiquities  of  Edinburgh, 
has  preserved  ground-plans,  or  sections,  whioh  clearly  show  this. 
Th»  l&TBreat  hall  was  on  the  second  floor,  and  measured  27  feet  by  20, 


528 


WAVERLET  ITOVEL^ 


and  12  feet  high.  It  may  have  been  intended  for  the  meetings  of  tJie 
Town  Council,  while  the  Parliament  assembled,  aiier  lt)iiO,  in  what 
was  called  the  Upper  Tolbooth.  that  is,  the  south-west  portion  of  the 
Ooileeiate  Church  of  St.  Giles,  until  the  year  16-10,  when  the  present 
Parliament  House  was  completed.  Being  no  longer  required  for  sucn 
a  purpose,  it  was  set  apart  by  the  Town  Council  on  the  24th  Decem- 
ber Ifril  as  a  distinct  church,  with  the  name  of  the  Tolbooth  parish, 
and  therefore  could  not  have  derived  the  name  from  its  vicinity  to 
the  tolbooth.  as  usually  stated.  The  flgxire  of  a  heart  upon  the  pave- 
ment between  St.  Giles's  Church  and  the  Edinburgh  County  Hall 
now  marks  the  site  of  the  Old  Tolbooth  (Liaing.) 

XOTE  11.— THE  MIJRDER   OF   CAPTAIN   P0RTEU5,    p.    64. 

The  following  interesting  and  authentic  account  of  the  inquiries 
made  by  Crown  Counsel  into  the  affair  of  the  Porteous  Mob  seems 
to  have  been  drawn  up  by  the  Solicitor-General.  The  office  was  held 
in  1737  by  C'harles  Erskine.  Esq.  I  owe  this  curious  illustration  to  the 
kindness  of  a  orofessional  friend.  It  throws,  indeed,  little  light  on 
tne  origin  of  the  tumult;  but  shows  how  profound  the  darkness  must 
have   been,    which   so   muci:.   investigation   could  not  dispel. 

'Upon  the  Tth  of  September  last,  when  the  unhappy,  wicked  mur- 
der of  Captain  Porteus  was  committed,  his  Majest.es  Advocate  and 
Solicitor  were  out  of  town,  the  first  beyond  Inverness  and  the  other 
in  Annandale,  not  far  from  Carlyle;  neither  of  them  knew  anything 
of  the  reprieve,  nor  did  t'hey  in  the  least  suspect  that  any  disorder 
was   to   happen. 

'When  the  disorder  happened,  itihe  magistrates  and  other  persons 
concerned  in  the  management  of  the  town,  seemed  to  be  all  scruck 
of  a  heap;  and  whether,  from  the  great  terror  that  had  seized  all  the 
inhabitants,  they  thought  ane  immediate  enquiry  would  be  fruitless,  or 
whether  being  a  direct  insult  upon  the  prerogative  of  the  crown, 
Ihey  did  not  care  rashly  to  intermeddle— but  no  proceedings  was  had 
by  them.  Only,  soon  after,  ane  express  was  sent  to  his  Majesties 
Solicitor  who  came  to  town  as  gioon  as  was  possible  for  him;  but,  in 
the  meantime,  the  persons  who  had  been  most  guilty  had  either  run 
off  or,  at  least,  kept  themseU-es  upon  the  wing  until  they  sJiould  see 
•what  steps  were  taken  by  the  Government. 

'When  the  Solicitor  arrived,  he  perceived  the  whole  Inhabitants 
under  a  consternation.  He  had  no  materials  furni&hed  him;  nay,  the 
inhabitants  were  so  much  afraid  of  being  reputed  informers,  that 
very  few  people  had  so  much  as  the  courage  to  speak  with  him  on  the 
streets.  However,  having  received  her  Majesties  orders,  by  a  letter 
from  the  Duke  of  Newcastle,  he  resolved  to  sett  abcut  the  matter  in 
earnest,  and  entered,  upon  ane  enquiry,  gropemg  in  the  dark.  He 
had  no  assistance  from  the  magistrates  worth  mentioning,  but  called 
witness  after  witness  in  the  privatest  manner  before  himself  in  his 
own  house,  and  for  six  weeks  time,  from  morning  to  evening,  went  on 
In  the  enquiry  without  taking  the  least  diversion,  or  turning  his 
thoughts  to  any  other  business. 

'He  tried  at  first  what  he  could  do  by  declarations,  by  engaging 
secresy,  so  that  those  who  told  the  truth  should  never  be  discovered; 
made  use  of  no  clerk,  but  wrote  all  the  declarations  with  his  ctwti 
hand,  to  encourage  them  to  speak  out.  After  all,  for  some  time,  he 
could  get  nothing  but  ends  of  stofries.  which,  w'hen  pursued,  broke  off; 
and  those  who  appeared  and  knew  anything  of  the  matter  were  under 
the  utmost  terror  lest  it  should  take  air  that  they  had  mentioned  any 
one  man  as  guilty. 

'During  the  course  of  the  inquiry,  the  run  of  the  town,  w'hich  was 
strong  for  the  villanous  actors,  begun  to  alter  a  little,  and  when  they 
saw  the  King's  servants  in  earnest  to  d*^  their  best,  the  generality, 
who  before  had  spoke  very  warmly  in  defence  of  the  wickedness, 
begun  to  be  silent,  and  ait  that  period  more  of  the  criminals  begun  to 
ajbscond. 

'At  length  the  enquiry  began  to  open  la  little,  and  the  Sollicitor 
■was  under  some  difficulty  hoiw  to  proceed.  He  very  well  saw  that  the 
first  warrand  that  was  issued  out  would  start  the  whole  gang,  and  as 
he  had  not  come  at  any  one  of  the  most  notorious  offenders,  he  was 
unwilling,  uwon  the  slight  evidence  he  had,  to  begin.  However,  upon 
notice  given  him  by  Generall  Moyle  that  one  King,  a  butcher  dn  the 
Cenongate,  had  boas'ted  in  presence  of  Bridget  Knell,  a  soldier's  wife, 


NOTEIS  526 

the  mcxrning  after  Captain  Porteus  was  liang'ed  that  he  had  a  very 
aotive  hand  in  tlie  mob,  a  warrand  was  issued  out,  and  King  was  ap- 
preliended  and  im.prisoned  in   the  Oanongaie  tolbooth. 

"This  obliged  llie  tj'O'iliL,  lo.-  uumediatelv  to  prucc^  •  to  take  up  those 
against  whom  he  had  any  information.  By  a  scgned  declaration, 
William  Stirling,  apprentice  to  James  Stirling,  merchanx  in  Edin- 
burgh, was  charged  as  haveing  been  at  the  Nether-Bow,  after  the 
gates  iwere  shutt,  with  a  Liochaber  ax,  or  halbert,  in  his  hand,  and 
haveing  begun  a,  huzza,  marched  upon  the  head  of  the  mob  towards 
the  Guard. 

•James  Braidwood,  son  to  a  candlemaker  in  ^town,  was,  by  a 
signed  declaration,  charged  as  haveing  been  at  the  Tolbooth  door, 
giveing  directions  to  the  mob  about  setting  fl.re  to  the  door,  and  tha.t 
t)he  mob  named  him  by  his  name,  and  asked  his  advice 

'By  another  declaration,  one  Stoddart,  a  journeyman  smith,  was 
charged  of  haveilng  boasted  publickly.  in  a  smith's  shop  at  Leitb 
that  he  had  assisted  in  breaking  open  the  Tolbooth  door. 

•Peter  Traill,  a  journeyman  wright,  by  one  of  the  declarations, 
was  also  accused  of  haveing  lockt  the  Nether-Bow  Port  when  it  wa^ 
sihutt  by  the  mob. 

'His  Majesties  Sollioitor  having  these  nformaitions.  imployed  pri- 
vately such  persons  as  he  could  best  rely  on,  and  the  truth  was,  there 
were  very  few  in  whom  he  could  repose  confldence.  But  he  was, 
indeed,  faithfully  served  by  one  Wabs-ter,  a,  soldier  in  the  Welsh 
fuzileers,  recommended  to  him  by  Lieutenant  Alshton,  who,  with 
very  great  address,  informed  himself,  and  really  run  some  risque  in 
getting  his  information,  concerning  the  places  where  the  persons  in- 
formed against  used  to  haunt,  and  how  they  might  be  seized.  In 
consequence  of  which,  a  party  of  the  Guard  from  the  Canongiate  was 
agreed  on  to  march  up  at  a  certain  hour,  when  a  message  should  be 
sent.  The  Sollic.tar  wiote  a  letter  and  gave  it  to  one  of  thj  tovv-n 
ofhcers,  ordered  to  attend  Captain  Maiiland,  one  of  th:,'  town  C-iptains, 
promoted  to  that  comniand  s.nce  the  unha'ppy  accident,  who.  .ndeeJ, 
was  extremely  diligent  and  active  throughout  the  whole;  and  haveing 
got  Stirling  and  Braid'wood  apprehended,  despatched  the  oflicers  writh 
the  letter  to  the  military  in  Canongate,  who  immediately  begun  tlieir 
march,  atid  by  the  time  the  Sollicitor  had  half  examined  the  said  two 
persons  m  the  Burrow-room,  where  tlie  magistrates  were  preseiit,  a 
party  of  fifty  men,  drums  beating,  marched  into  the  Parliament  clo'ss, 
and  drew  up,  which  was  the  lirst  thing  that  struck  a  terror,  and 
from  that  tiine  forward  the  insolence  was  succeeded  by  fear. 

'Stirling  and  Braidwood  were  iinmediately  sent  to  the  Castle  and 
imprisoned.  That  same  nig-ht,  Stoddart,  the  smith,  was  seized,  and  he 
was  committed  to  the  Castle  also,  as  was  likewise  Traill,  the  journey- 
man wright,  who  were  all  severally  examined,  and  denied  the  least 
accession. 

'In  the  meantime  the  enquiry  was  going  on,  and  it  haveing  cast  up 
in  one  of  the  declarations,  thait  a  hump'd-backed  creature  marched 
with  a  gun  as  one  of  the  guards  to  Porteus  when  'he  went  up  to  the 
Lawn  Markett,  the  person  who  emitted  this  declaration  was  em- 
ployed to  walk  the  streets  to  see  if  he  could  find  him  out;  at  last  he 
came  to  the  Sollicitor  and  told  him  he  had  found  him,  and  that  he 
was  in  a  certain  house.  Whereupon  a  warrand  was  issued  out  against 
him,  and  he  was  apprehended  and  sent  to  the  Castle,  and  he  proved 
to  h*  one  Birnie,  a  helper  to  the  Countess  of  Weemy's  coaciiman. 

'Thereafter,  ane  informfltion  was  given  'in  against  William 
M'Lauchlan,  ffootman  to  the  said  Counters,  as  haveing  been  verv 
active  in  the  mob;  if  or  some  time  he  kept  himself  out  of  the  way,  but 
at  last  he  was  apprehended  and  likewise  committed  to  the  Castle. 

'And  these  were  all  the  prisoners  who  were  putt  under  confine- 
mient  in  that  place. 

'There  were  other  persons  imprisoned  in  the  Tolbooth  at  Edin' 
burgh,  and  severalls  against  wihom  warrands  were  issued,  but  could 
not  be  apprehended,  whose  names  and  cases  shall  afterwards  he  more 
particularly  taken  notice  of. 

'The  if  riends  of  Stirling  made  ane  application  to  'the  Earl  of  Islay, 
Lord  Justic«-Generall,  setting  furth,  that  he  was  seized  with  a  bloody 
mux;  that  his  life  was  in  danger;  and  that  upon  ane  examination  of 
witnesses  whose  names  were  given  In,  it  would  appear  to  conviotlon 
that  he  had  not  the  least  access  to  any  »f  the  riotous  proceed/ng»  of 
that  wicked  moto. 


530  WA  VERLE  Y  NO  VEL8 

'This  petition  was  by  his  Lordship  putt  In  the  hands  of  his  Majes« 
ties  Sollici'tor,  who  examined  the  witnesses;  and  by  their  testimonies 
it  aippeared  tliat  the  youjig'  man,  wlio  was  not  above  elgihteen  yeara 
of  age,  was  tliat  night  in  company  'With  about  half  a  dozen  compan- 
ions, in  a  public  house  in  Stephen  Law's  does,  near  the  iback  of  the 
Guard,  wiliere  they  all  remained  untWl  the  noise  came  to  the  house 
that  the  mob  had  shut  the  gates  a,nd  seized  tne  Guard,  upon  which 
the  company  broke  up,  and  he  and  one  of  his  companions  went 
towards  ihis  master's  house;  and,  in  the  course  cf  the  after  examina- 
tion, there  was  a  witness  who  declared,  nay,  indeed  swore — for  the  Sol- 
licitor,  by  this  time,  saw  it  necessary  to  put  those  he  examined  upon 
oath — that  he  met  him  [Stirling]  after  he  entered  into  t'he  alley  where 
his  master  lives,  going  towards  his  house;  and  another  witiiess,  fellow- 
prentice  with  Stirling,  declares  that  after  the  mob  had  seized  the 
Guard,  he  went  home,  where  he  found  Stirling  betore  him;  and  tihat 
his  master  lockt  the  door,  and  kept  them  both  alt  home  till  after 
tiwelve  at  night:  upon  weighing  of  whioh  testimonies,  and  upon  con- 
sideration had,  that  he  was  charged  by  the  declaration  only  of  one 
person,  who  really  did  not  appear  to  be  a  witness  of  the  greatest 
weight,  and  that  his  idfe  was  in  danger  from  the  imprisoniment,  he 
was  admitted  to  baill  by  the  Lord  Justioe-Generall,  by  whose  war- 
rand  he  was  committed. 

'Braidwood's  friends  applyed' .in  the  same  manner;  but  as  he  stood 
ciiharged  by  more  than  one  iwiitness,  he  was  not  released — tho',  indeed, 
the  wltntsses  adduced  for  him  say  somewhat  in  his  exculpation — that 
he  does  not  seem  to  have  been  upon  any  original  concert;  and  one  of 
the  wutne.-.ses  says  he  w?,s  along  with  him  at  the  Tolbooth  door,  and 
refuses  what  is  said  against  him,  with  regard  to  his  having  advised 
the  burning  of  the  Tolbooth  door.    But  he  remains  still  in  prison. 

'As  to  Traill,  the  journeyman  wnight,  he  is  charged  by  the  same 
witness  who  declared  against  Stirling,  and  there  is  none  concurrs 
with  him;  and  to  say  the  truth  concerning  him,  he  seemed  to  be  the 
most  ingen:ous  of  any  of  them  whom  the  Sollicitor  examined,  and 
pointed  out  a  witness  'by  whom  one  of  the  first  aocomplices  was  dis- 
covered, and  Who  escaped  'When  the  warrand  was  to  be  puitt  in  execu- 
tion against  them.  He  positively  denys  his  having  shutt  the  gate,  and 
'tis  thought  Traill  ought  to  be  admitted  to  baill. 

'As  for  Birnie,  he  is  charged  only  by  one  witness,  who  haxJ  never 
seen  him  before,  nor  knew  his  name;  so,  tho'  I  dare  say  the  witness 
honestly  mentioned  him,  'tis  possible  he  may  be  mistaken;  and  in  the 
examination  of  above  200  witnesses,  there  is  no  body  concurrs  iwith 
him,  and  he  is  ane  insignificant  little  creature. 

'With  regard  to  M'Lauchlan,  the  proof  is  strong  against  him  by 
one  witness,  thait  he  acted  as  a  serjeant  or  sort  of  commander,  for 
some  time,  of  a  Guard  that  stood  cross  between  the  upper  end  of  the 
Luckenbooths  and  the  north  side  of  the  street,  to  stop  all  but  friends 
from  going  towards  the  Tolbooth ;  and  by  other  witnesses,  that  he 
was  at  the  Tolbooth  door  with  a  link  in  his  hand,  while  the  operation 
of  beating  and  burning  it  was  going  on;  that  he  went  along  with  the 
mok,  with  a  halbert  lin  his  hand,  until  he  came  to  the  gallows-stone 
In  the  Grassmarket,  and  that  he  stuck  the  halbert  into  the  hole  of 
the  gallows-stone;  that  afterwards  he  went  in  amongst  the  mob  when 
Captain  Porteus  was  carried  to  the  dyer's  tree;  so  that  the  proof 
seems  very  heavy  against  him. 

"To  sum  up  this  matter  with  regard  to  the  prisoners  in  the  Castle, 
'tis  believed  there  ^is  strong  proof  against  M'Lauchlan;  there  is  ailso 
proof  against  Braidwood.  But  as  it  consists  only  in  emission  of 
words  said  to  have  been  had  by  him  while  at  the  Tolbooth  door,  and 
that  he  is  an  insignificant,  pitiful  creature,  and  will  find  people  to 
swear  heartily  in  his  favours,  'tis  ait  best  doubtful  whether  a  jury 
will  be  got  to  condemn  him. 

'As  to  those  in  the  Tolbooth  of  Bdinboirgh,  John  Crawford,  who 
had  for  some  time  been  employed  to  ring  the  bells  in  the  steeple  of 
the  new  Church  of  Edinburgh,  beting  in  company  w'ith-  a  soldier  acci- 
dentally, the  discourse  falling  in  concerning  Captain  Porteus  and  his 
murder,  as  he  appears  to  be  a  lightheaded  fellow,  he  said  that  he 
knew  people  that  were  more  guilty  than  any  that  were  putt  in  prieon. 
Upon  this  information  Crawford  was  seized,  and  being  examined,  it 
appeared  thaJt,  when  the  mob  begun,  as  he  was  comeing  down  from 
the  steeple,  the  mob  took  the  keys  from  him:  thait  he  was  that  night 
In  several  comers,  amd  did  indeed  delate  severall  persons  whom  he 


JTOTES  53: 

saw  there,  and  Immediately  warmands  were  dispatched,  and  It  was 
found  they  had  absconded  and  lied.  But  tliere  was  no  evidence 
against  him  of  any  kind.  Nay,  on  the  contrary,  it  appeared  that  he 
had  been  witii  tlie  Magistraies  in  Clerk's,  tlie  vintner's,  relating  to 
them  what  lie  had  seen  in  the  streets.  Therefore,  after  haveing  de- 
tained him  in  prison  fior  a  very  considerable  time,  his  Majestie's 
Advocate  and  Sollicitor  signed  a  warand  for  his  liberation. 

'There  was  also  one  J.imcs  Wilson  ■incarcerated  in  the  said  ToQ- 
booth,  upon  the  declaration  of  one  witness,  who  said  lie  saw  him  on 
the  streets  with  a  gun;  and  there  he  remained  for  some  time  in  order 
to  try  if  a  concurring  witness  could  be  found,  or  that  h©  acted  any 
part  in  the  tragedy  and  wickedness.  But  nothing  further  appeared 
against  h:m;  and  being  seized  with  a  severe  ©ickness,  he  is,  by  a 
warrand  signed  by  his  Majestie's  Advocate  and  Sollicitor,  liberated 
upon  giveing  sufficient  baill. 

'As  to  King,  enquiry  was  made,  and  the  ffact  comes  out  beyond  all 
exception,  that  he  was  in  the  lodge  of  the  Nether-Bow,  with  Lindsay 
the  waiter,  and  several  other  people,  not  at  all  concerned  in  ithe  mob. 
But  after  the  affair  was  over  he  went  up  towards  the  guard,  and 
having  met  with  Sandie  the  Turk  and  his  wife,  who  escaped  out  of 
prison,  they  returned  to  his 'house  ait  'the  Abbey,  and  then  'tis  very 
possible  he  may  have  thought  fl'tt  in  his  beer  to  boast  of  villany,  in 
which  he  could  not  possibly  have  any  share;  for  that  reason  he  was 
desired  to  find  baill  and  he  should  be  seit  at  liberty.  But  he  is  a 
stranger  and  a  fellow  of  very  indifferent  character,  and  'tis  believed 
it  won't  be  easy  for  him  to  And  baill.  Wherefore,  it's  thought  he 
must  be  sett  at  liberty  without  it.  Because  he  is  a  burden  upon  the 
Government  while  kept  in  confinement,  not  being  able  'to  maintain 
himself. 

'What  is  above  is  all  that  relates  to  persons  in  cusitody.  But 
there  are  warrands  out  against  a  great  many  other  persons  who  are 
fled,  particularly  against  one  WiUiam  White,  a  journeyman  baxter, 
who,  by  the  evidence,  appears  to  have  been  at  the  beginning  of  the 
mob.  and  to  have  gone  along  with  the  drum,  from  the  West-Port,  to 
the  Nether-Eow,  and  is  said  to  have  been  one  of  those  who  attacked 
the  guard,  and  probably  was  as  deep  as  any  one  there. 

'Information  was  given  that  he  was  lurking  at  Falkirk,  where  he 
was  born.  Whereupon  directions  were  sent  to  the 'Sheriff  of  the  county, 
and  a  warrand  from  his  Excellency  Generall  Wade  to  the  command- 
ing officers  at  Stirling  and  Linlithgow,  to  assist,  and  all  possible  en- 
deavours were  used  to  catch  hold  of  him,  and  'tis  said  he  escaped 
very  narrowly,  having  lyen  concealed  in  some  outhouse;  and  the  mi.s- 
fortune  was,  that  those  who  were  employed  in  the  search  did  not 
know  him  personally.  Nor,  indeed,  was  it  easy  ito  trust  any  of  the 
acquaintances  of  so  low,  obscure  'a  fellow  with  the  secret  of  the 
warrand  to  be  putt  into  execution. 

'There  was  also  strong  evidence  found  against  Robert  Taylor, 
servant  to  William  and  Charles  Thomsons,  periwig-makers,  that  he 
acted  as  ane  officer  among  .the  mob,  and  he  is  traced  from  the  guard 
to  the  well  at  the  head  of 'Forrester's  Wynd,  where  he  stood  and  had 
the  appellation  of  Captain  from  the  mob,  and  from  that  walking  down 
the  Bow  before  Captain  Porteus,  with  his  Lochaber  axe;  and  by  the 
description  given  of  one  who  had  (hawl'd  the  rope  by  which  Captain 
Porteus  was  pulled  up,  'tis  believed  Taylor  was  the  person;  and  'ti? 
further  probable  th«.t  the  witness  who  delated  Stirling  had  mistaken 
Taylor  for  him,  their  stature  and  age  (so  far  as  can  be  gathered 
from  the  description)  being  much  the  same. 

'A  great  deal  of  pains  were  taken,  and  no  charge  was  saved,  in. 
order  to  have  catched  hold  of  this  Taylor,  and  warrands  were  sent  to 
'the  country  where  he  was  born:  but  it  appears  he  had  shipt  ihimself 
oft  for  Uollaud,  where  it  is  said  he  now  is. 

'There  is  strong  evidence  also  against  Thomas  Burns,  butcher,  that 
he  was  ane  active  person  from  the  beginning  of  the  mob  to  'the  end 
of  it.  He  Hurkt  for  some  'time  amongst  those  of  his  trade;  and  art- 
fully enough  a  train  was  laid  to  catch  him,  under  pretence  of  a  mes- 
sage that  had  come  from  his  father  in  Ireland,  so  that  he  came  to 
a  blind  ale-house  in  the  Flesh-market  closs,  and  a  party  'being  ready, 
was  by  "Webster  the  soldier,  who  was  upon  this  exploit,  advertised  to 
•ome  down.    However,  Burns  escaped  out  at  a  back  window,  and  hid 


582  WAVEELEY  NOVELS 

himself  in  some  ot  the  houses  which  are  heaped  together  upon  one 
another  in  that  place,  so  that  it  was  not  possible  to  catch  him.  'Tis 
now  said  he  is  gone  to  Ireland  to  his  father,  who  lives  there. 

'There  is  evidence  also  against  one  Robert  Anderson,  journtyman 
and  servant  to  Colin  Alison,  wright,  and  against  Thomas  Liinnen 
tLinningj  and  James  Maxwell,  both  servants  also  to  'the  said  Colin 
Alison,  who  all  seem  to  have  been  deeply  concerned  in  the  matter 
Anderson  is  one  of  those  who  putt  the  rope  upon  Captain  Porteus's 
neck.  Linnen  seems  also  to  have  been  very  active;  and  Maxwell— 
which  is  pretty  remarkable — is  proven  to  have  come  to  a  shop  upon 
the  Friday  before,  and  charged  the  journeymen  and  prentices  there 
to  attend  in  the  Parliament  close  on  Tuesday  night,  to  assist  to  hang 
Captain  Porteus.  These  three  did  early  abscond,  and  though  war- 
rands  had  been  issued  out  against  them,  and  all  endeavours  used  to 
apprehend  them,  could  not  be  found.        ,       ,.,  ^   x       ,..        ^ 

'The  like  warrands  had  been  issued  with  regard  to  ships  from 
Leith.  But  whether  they  had  been  scard,  or  whether  the  informa- 
tion had  been  groundless,  ithey  had  no  effect. 

'This  is  a  summary  of  the  enquiry,  fCrom  which  It  appears  there 
is  no  prooff  on  which  one  can  rely,  but  against  M'LauChlan.  There 
is  a  prooff  also  against  Braidwood,  bufmore  exceptionable. 

'One  Walaie,  a  servant  to  George  Campbell,  wright,  has  also  ab- 
sconded, and  '.Tiany  others,  and  'tis  informed  that  numbers  of  them 
have  shipt  themselves  off  Hot  the  Planta'tions;  and  upon  ane  informa- 
tion that  a  ship  was  going  off  ffrom  Glasgow,  in  which  severall  of 
the  rogues  were  to  transport  themselves  beyond  seas,  proper  war- 
rands were  otatamed,  and  persons  dispatched  to  search  the  said  sh.p, 
and  seize  any  that  can  be  found.  .... 

'His  Maiesties  Advocate,  since  he  came  to  itown,  has  join'd  with 
the  Solicitor,  and  has  done  his  utmost  to  gett  at  the  bottom  of  this 
matter  but  hitherto  it  stands  as  is  above  represented.  They  are  re- 
solved to  have  their  eyes  and  their  ears  open  and  to  do  what  they  can. 
But  they  labour'd  exceedingly  against  the  stream;  and  it  may  truly 
be  said  that  nothing  was  wanting  on  their  part.  Nor  hav^,  they  de- 
clmed  any  labour  to  answer  the  commands  laid  upon  them  to  search 
the  matter  to  the  bottom.' 

THE  PORTEOUS  MOB 

In  chapters  ii.-vii..  the  circumstances  of  that  extraorfllnary  riot 
and  conspiracy,  called' the  Porteous  Mob,  are  given  with  as  much  ac- 
curacy as  the  Author  was  able  to  collect  them.  The  order,  repularlty, 
and  determined  resolution  with  which  such  a  violent  action  was  de  • 
visea  and  executed  were  only  equalled  by  the  secrecy  which  was  ob- 
served concerning  the  principal  actors. 

Although  the  fact  was  performed  by  torch-light,  and  in  presence 
oi  a  great  multitude,  to  some  ot  whom,  at  least,  the  individual  actors 
must  have  been  known,  yet  no  discovery  was  ever  made  concerning 
any  of  the  perpetrators  of  the  slaughter. 

Two  men  only  were  brought  to  trial  for  an  offpnce  which  the  gov- 
ernment were  so  anxious  to  detect  and  punish.  William  M'Leuchlan, 
footman  to  the  Countess  of  Wemyss,  who  is  mentioned  in  the  report 
of  the  Solicitor-General  (page  530),  against  whom  strong  evidence  had 
:been  obtained,  was  brought  to  trial  in  March,  1737,  charged  as  having 
been  accessory  to  the  riot,  armed  with  a  I-o?haber  axe.  But  this  man, 
who  was  at  all  times  a  silly  creature,  proved  that  he  Was  In  a  stata 
of  mortal  intoxication  during  the  time  he  was  present  With  the  rab- 
ble, incapable  of  giving  them  either  advice  or  assistance,  or  Indeed  of 
knowing  what  he  or  .they  were  doing.  He  was  also  able  to  prove  that 
he  was  forced  into  the  riot,  and  upheld  while  there  by  two  bakers, 
who  put  a  Lochaber  axe  into  'his  hand.  The  .iury,  wisely  judging  this 
poor  creature  could  be  no  proper  subiect  of  punishmer't,  found  the 
panel  'Not  guilty.'  The  same  verdict  was  given  in  the  case  of  Thonias 
Linning.  also  mentioned  in  the  Solicitor's  memorial,  who  was  tried  In 
1738.  In  short,  neither  then,  nor  for  a  long  period  afterwards,  was 
anything  discovered  relating  to  t(he  organisation  of  the  Porteous  Plot. 

The  imagination  of  the  people  of  Edinburgh  was  long  irritated, 
and  their  curiosity  kept  awake,  by  the  mystery  attending  this  ex- 
traordinary conspiracy.  It  was  generally  reported  of  sufth  natives  of 
Edinburgh  as,  having  left  the  city  in  youth,  returned  with  a  fortune 


IT0TE8  683 

amassed  In  foreign  countrtes,  'that  they  had  originally  fled  on  account 

of  aheir  share  in  the  Poi-leous  Mob.  But  little  credit  cun  be  attached 
10  these  surmises,  as  in  most  ol"  the  cases  they  are  'Contradicted  b^' 
dates,  and  in  none  supported  by  anything  but  vague  rumours, 
grounded  on  the  ordinary  wish  of  the  vulgar  to  impute  the  success  of 
prosperous  men  to  some  unpleasant  source.  The  secret  h. story  of  the 
Porxeous  Mob  has  been  till  this  day  unravelled;  and  it  has  always 
been  quoted  as  a  close,  daring,  and  calculated  act  of  violence  of  a 
nature  peculiarly  characteristic  of  the  Scottish  people. 

Nevertheless,  the  Author,  for  a  considerable  time,  nourished  hopes 
to  have  found  himself  enabled  to  throw  some  ligat  on  tins  mystenons 
story.  An  old  man,  who  died  about  twenty  years  ago,  at  the  ad- 
vanced age  of  ninety-three,  was  said  ito  :have  made  a  communication 
to  the  clergyman  who  attended  upon  his  death-bed,  respecting  the 
origin  of  the  Porteous  Mob.  This  person  followed  the  trade  of  a  car- 
penter, and  had  been  en^ployed  ■a.s  such  on  t'he  estate  of  a  family  cf 
opulence  and  condition.  His  character,  in  his  line  of  life  and  amongst 
h.s  neighbours,  was  excellent,  and  never  underwent  the  slightest  sus- 
picion. His  confession  was  said  to  have  been  to  the  following  pur- 
pose:—That  he  was  one  of  twelve  young  men  belonging  to  llie  vihage 
of  Pathhead,  whose  animosity  against  Porteous,  on  account  of  the 
execution  of  TVilson,  was  so  extreme  that  they  resolved  to  execute 
vengeance  on  him  with  their  own  hands  rather  than  he  should  escape 
punishment.  With  this  resolution  they  crossed  the  Forth  at  different 
ferries  and  rendezvoused  at  the  suburb  called  Portsburgh,  where 
their  appearance  in  a  body  soon  called  numbers  around  them.  The 
public  m'lnd  was  in  such  a  slate  of  irritat.on  ithat  it  only  wanted  a 
single  spark  to  create  an  explosion;  and  'this  was  afforded  by  the 
exertions  of  the  small  and  determined  band  of  associates.  The  ap- 
pearance of  premed.tation  and  order  which  distinguished  the  riut,  ac- 
cording to  his  account,  had  its  origin,  not  in  any  previous  plan  or 
conspiracy,  but  in  the  character  of  those  who  were  engaged  in  it. 
The  story  also  serves  to  show  why  nothing  of  the  origin  of  the  riot 
has  ever  been  discovered,  since,  though  in  itself  a  great  conflagra- 
tion, its.  source,  according  to  this  account,  was  from  an  obscure  and 
apparently  inadcQuate   cause. 

I  have  been  disappointed,  however,  in  obtaining  the  evidence  on 
which  this  story  rests.  The  present  proprietor  of  the  estate  on 
which  the  old  man  died  (a  particular  friend  of  the  Author)  under- 
took <to  question  the  son  of  the  deceased  on  the  subject.  This  person 
follows  his  father's  trade,  and  holds  the  employment  of  carpenter 
to  the  same  family.  He  admits  that  his  father's  going  abroad  at  the 
time  of  the  Porteous  Mob  was  popularly  attributed  to  his  having 
been  concerned  in  that  affair;  but  adds  that,  so  far  as  is  known  tj 
him,  the  old  man  had  nev?r  made  any  confession  to  that  effect,  and, 
on  the  contrary,  had  uniformly  denied  being  present.  My  kind  friend 
therefore  had  recourse  to  a  person  frgm  whom  he  had  formerly 
heard  the  story;  but  w'h'o,  eitner  from  respect  to  an  old  friend's 
memory  or  from  failure  of  his  own,  happened  to  have  forgotten  that 
ever  such  a  communication  was  made.  So  my  obliging  correspondent 
(wno  is  a  fox-ihunter)  wrote  to  me  that  he  was  completely  planted; 
ana  tiiat  all  that  can  be  said  with  respect  to  the  tradition  is,  that  it 
certainly  once  existed  and   was  generally   believed.— 

The  Rev.  Dr.  Carlyle,  minister  of  Inveresk.  in  his  Autobiographv 
rives  some  interesting  particulars  relating  to  the  Porteous  Mob.  from 


(Laing) 


NOTE    12.— DUMBIEDIKES,    p.     69 


r.f  Dumbiedikes,  selected  as  descriptive  of  the  taciturn  character 
?L  K-in^¥"iYX  °'^"^'''  /f  J^^^y  ^he  name  of  a  house  bordering  on 
<^=t,.^„l"^  ^  ^.^.t'^H  ^*i  ^^''^"^  because  the  late  Mr.  Braidwood  an 
LVtnrVf.^^'"  °/A^^  deaf  and  dumb,  resided  there  with  his  pupils  The 
wieaf mansion  °"^^   *^   different    from    that   assigned    to    t    e 


534  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

XOTE   13.~COLLEGE   STUDENTS,    p.    71 

Immediately  previous  to  f^e  Revolution,  the  students  at  the 
Edinburgh  College  were  violent  anti-Catholics.  They  were  strongly 
suspected  of  burning-  the  house  of  Priestfleld,  belonging  to  the  Lord 
Provost;"  and  certainly  were  ■gu'Mty  of  creating  considerable  riots  ia 
1688-89. 

NOTE  14.^RECOMMENDATI0N  TO  ARBORICULTURE,   p.   71 

The  Author  has  been  flattered  by  the  assurance  that  this  naive 
mode  of  recommending  arboriculture— wliich  was  actually  delivered 
in  these  very  words  by  a  Highland  laird,  while  on  his  death-bed,  to 
his  son— had  so  much  weight  with  a  Scottish  earl  as  to  lead  to  his 
planting  a  large  tract  of  country. 

NOTE  15.— CAR3PHARN  JOHN,  p.  84 

John  Bemple,  called  Carspharn  John,  because  mlnis'ter  of  the 
parish  in  Galloway  so  called,  was  a  Presbyterian  clergyman  of 
singular  piety  and  great  zeal,  of  whom  Patrick  Walker  records  the 
following  passage:  'That  night  after  his  wife  died,  he  spent  the 
whole  ensuing  night  in  prayer  and  'medita'tion  in  his  garden.  The 
next  mc-irning,  one  of  his  elders  coming  to  see  him,  and  lamenting 
h:s  great  loss  and  want  of  rest,  he  replied,  "I  declare  I  have  not,  all 
night,  had  one  thought  of  the  deatli  of  my  wife  I  have  been  so 
taken  up  in  medita'ting  on  Heavenly  things.  I  have  been  this  night 
on  the  banks  of  the  Ulai.  plucking  an  apple  here  and  there."  '— 
Walker's  Remarkable  Passages  of  the  Life  and  Death  of  Mr.  John 
Semple. 

NOTE  16.— PATRICK  WALKER,  p.  94 

This  personage,  whom  it  would  be  base  ingratitude  in  the  Author 
to  pass  over  without  some  notice,  was  by  far  the  most  zealous  and 
faithful  collector  and  recorder  of  the  actions  and  opinions  of  the 
Caineronians.  He  resided,  while  stationary,  at  the  Bristo  Port  of 
Kdinburgh,  but  was  by  trade  an  itinerant  merchant  or  pedlar, 
which  profession  he  seems  to  have  exercised  in  Ireland  as  well  as 
Britain.  He  composed  biographical  notices'  of  Alexander  'Peden, 
John  Semple,  John  Wei  wood,  and  Richard  Cameron,  all  ministers  of 
the  Cameronian  persuasion,  to  which  the  last-mentioned  member 
gave  the  name. 

It  is  from  such  tracts  as  'these,  written  in  the  sense,  feeling,  and 
spirit  of  the  sect,  and  not  from  the  sophisticated  narrative  of  a  later 
peiMOd,  that  the  real  character  of  the  persecuted  class  is  to  be  gath- 
ered-. Walker  writes  with  a  simplicity  which  sometimes  slides  into 
the  biirlosaue,  and  sometimes  attain9  a  tone  of  simple  pathos,  but 
always  expressing  the  most  dai-ing  coflJence  in  his  own  correctness 
of  creed  and  sentiments,  somoiimes  with  narrow-minded  and  dis- 
gusting bigotry.  His  turn  for  the  marvellous  was  that  of  'his  time 
and  sect;  but  there  is  little  room  to  doubt  bis  veracity  concerning 
whate\er  he  qr.otes  on  his  own  knowledge.  His  small  tracts  now 
bring  a  very  his^h  price,  especially  the  earlier  and  authentic  editions. 
The  tirade  against  dancing  pronounced  by  David  Deans  is,  as  in- 
timated in  the  text,  partly  borrowed  from  Peter  [Patrick]  Walker. 
He  notices,  as  a  fotil  reproach  upon  the  name  of  Richard  Cameron, 
that  his  memory  was  vituperated  'by  pipers  and  fiddlers,  playing 
the  Cameronian  'march — carnal  vain  springs,  which  too  many  pro- 
fessors of  religion  dance  to;  a  practice  unbecoming  the  professors 
of  Christianity  to  dance  to  any  spring,  but  somewhat  more  to  this. 
WTiatever,"  he  proceeds,  "be  the  many  foul  blots  recorded  of  the 
saints  in  Scripture,  none  of  them  is  charged  with  this  regular  fit  of 
distraction.  We  And  it  has  been  practised  by  the  wicked  and  pro- 
fane, as  the  dancing  at  that  brutish,  base  action  of  the  calf-making: 
'  end  It  had  been  good  for  that  unhappy  lass  who  danced  off  the  head 
of  John  the  Baptist,  that  she  had  been  born  a  cripple  and  never 
drawn  a  limb  to  her.  Historians  say  that  her  sin  was  written  upon 
her  judgment,   who  some  time  thereafter  was   dancing  upon   the  Ice 


NOTES  635 

and  It  broke  and  snapt  the  head  off  her;  her  head  danced  above  and 

her  teeL  beneath.  There  is  ground  to  th^nk  and  conclude  that,  when 
t'he  world's  wickedness  was  great,  dancing  at  their  'marriages  was 
practised;  but  when  the  heavens  a'bove  and  the  earth  beneath  were 
let  loose  upon  them  with  that  overflowing  flood,  their  mirth  was 
soon  staid;  and  when  the  Lord  in  his  holy  justice  rained  Are  and 
brimstone  from  heaven  upon  that  wicked  people  and  city  Sodom, 
enjoying  fulness  of  bread  and  idleness,  their  fiddle-strings  and  hands 
went  all  in  a  flame;  and  the  whole  people  in  thirty  miles  of  length 
and  ten  of  breadth,  as  historians  say,  were  all  made  to  fry  in  their 
skins;  and  at  the  end,  whoever  are  giving  in  marriages  and  dancing 
when  all  will  go  in  a  flame,   they  will  quickly  change  their  note. 

'I  have  often  wondered  thoiow  my  life,  how  any,  that  ever  knew 
what  dt  was  to  bow  a  knee  in  turne^t  to  pray,  durs't  crook  a  hough 
to  fyke  and  fling  at  a  piper's  and  fiddler's  springs.  I  bless  the  Lord 
that  ordered  my  lot  so  in  my  dancing  aa:)  s,  that  made  the  fear  or 
the  Idoody  rope  and  bullets  to  my  neck  and  head,  'the  pain  of  boots, 
thumbikins.  and  irons,  cold  and  hunger,  wetness  and  weariness,  to 
Stop  the  lighcnc'ss  of  my  head  and  the  wantonness  of  my  feet.  What 
the  never-io-be-forgoiten  Man  of  God,  John  Knox,  said  to  Queen 
'Mary,  when  she  gave  hi'm  that  sharp  challenge,  which  would  strike 
our  mean-spirited,  tongue-tacked  ministers  dumb,  for  his  giving 
public  faithful  warning  of  the  danger  of  church  and  nation,  through 
her  marrying  the  Dauphine  of  France,  when  he  left  her  bubbling  and 
greeting,  and  came  to  an  outer  court,  where  her  Lady  Maries  were 
fyking-  and  (liiicnig,  he  said,  "O  brave  ladies,  a  biave  world,  if  it 
would  last,  and  Pleaven  at  the  binder  end!  But  fye  upon  the  knave 
Death,  that  will  seize  upon  these  bodies  of  yours;  and  where  will  all 
your  fiddling  and  flinging  be  then?"  Dancing  being  such  a  common 
evil,  especially  amongst  young  professors,  that  all  the  lovers  of  the 
Lord  Should  hate,  has  caused  me  to  insist  the  more  upon  it,  espe- 
cially that  foolish  spring  the  Cameronian  march!'— Life  and  Death 
of  three  Famous  Worthies,  etc.,  by  Peter  [Patrick]  Walker,  12mo, 
p.  59. 

It  may  be  here  observed,  'that  some  of  the  milder  class  of  Cam- 
eronians  made  a  distinction  between  the  two  sexes  dancing  sep- 
arately, and  allowed  of  it  as  a  healthy  and  not  unlawful  exercise; 
but  when  men  and  women  mingled  in  sport,  it  was  then  called  pro- 
miscuous dancing,  and  considered  as  a  scandalous  enormity. 

NOTE  17.— MUSCHAT'S  CAIRN,  p.   107 

Nicol  Muschat,  a  debauched  and  profligate  wretch,  having  con- 
ceived a  hatred  against  his  wife,  entered  into  a  conspiracy  with 
another  brutal  libertine  and  gambler,  named  Campbell  of  Burnbank 
(repeatedly  mentioned  in  Pennecuick's  satirical  poems  of  the  times), 
bj'  which  Campbell  undertook  to  destroy  the  woman's  character,  so 
as  to  enable  Muschat,  on  false  pretences,  to  obtain  a  divorce  from 
iher.  The  brutal  devices  to  which  these  worthy  accomplices  resorted 
for  that  purpose  having  failed,  they  endeavored  to  destro.v  her  bj' 
administering  medicine  of  a  dangerous  kind,  and  in  extraordinary 
quantities.  This  purpose  also  ifailing,  Nicol  Muschat,  or  Musc'het, 
did  finally,  on  the  17th  October,  1720,  carry  his  wife  under  cloud  of 
night  to  the  King's  Park,  adjacent  to  what  is  called  the  Duke's 
Walk,  near  Holyrood  Palace,  and  there  took  her  life  by  cutting  her 
throat  alm'ost  quite  through,  and  inflicting  other  wounds.  He 
pleaded  guilty  to  the  indictment,  for  which  he  suffered  death.  His 
associate,  Campbell,  was  sentenced  to  transportation  for  his  share 
in  the  previous  conspiracy.  See  MacLaurin's  Criminal  Cases,  pp.  64 
and  73S. 

In  memory,  and  at  the  same  time  execration,  of  the  deed,  a 
cairn,  or  pile  of  stones,  I'ong  marked  the  spot.  It  is  now  almost 
totally  removed,  in  consequence  of  an  alteration  on  the  road  in  that 
place. 

NOTE  18.— HANGMAN  OR  LOCKMAN,  p.  132 

Lockman,  so  called  from  the  small  quantity  of  meal  (Seottloe, 
lock)  which  he  was  entitled  to  take  out  »f  every  boll  exposed  to 
market 'in  the  city.     In  Kdinburgh   the  duty  has  been  very  long-  com- 


586  WAVERLET  NOVELS 

muted;  but  in  Dumfries  the  finisher  of  the  law  still  exercises,  or 
did  lately  exercise,  his  privilege,  the  quantity  taken  being  reguiatea 
by  a  small  iron  ladle,  which  he  uses  as  the  measure  of  his  perquisite. 
The  expression  lock,  for  a  small  quantity  of  any  readily  divisible 
dry  substance,  as  corn,  meal,  flax,  or  the  like,  is  still  preserved,  not 
only  popularly,  but  in  a  legal  description,  as  the  lock  and  gowpen, 
or  small  quantity  and  handful,  payable  In  thirlage  cases,  as  in  town 
multure. 

NOTE  19.— THE  FAIRY  BOY  OP  LEITH,  p.    144 

TQiis  legend  was  in  former  editions  inaccurately  said  to  exist  In 
Baxter's  World  of  Spirits;  but  is,  in  'fact,  to  be  'found  in  Pandemo- 
nium, 'or  the  Devil's  Cloyster;  being  a  further  blow  to  'Modern  Sad- 
duceism,  by  Richard  Bovet,  Gentleman,  12mo,  1684  (p.  172,  etc.)  The 
work  is  inscribed  to  Dr.  Henry  'More.  The  story  is  entitled,  'A  re- 
markaible  passage  of  one  named  the  Fairy  Boy  of  Leith,  in  Scotland, 
given  me  by  my  worthy  friend,  Captain  George  Burton,  and  attes'tsd 
under  his  own  hand,'  and  is  as  follows:— 

'About  fifteen  years  since,  having  business  that  detained  me  for 
some  time  in  I^eit'h,  which  is  near  Edenborough,  in  the  Kingdom  of 
Scotland  I  often  met  some  of  my  acquaintances  at  a  certain  house 
there,  where  we  used  to  drink  a  glass  of  wine  for  our  refection. 
The  woman  whiah  kept  the  house  was  of  honest  reputation  amongst 
the  neighbours,  which  made  me  give  the  more  attention  to  what  she 
lold  me  one  day  a'bout  a  Fairy  Boy  (as  they  called  liim)  who  lived 
aibout  that  town.  She  had  given  .me  so  strange  an  account  of  ihim 
that  I  desired  her  I  migh't  see  'him  the  first  opportunity,  which  tshe 
promise'd;  and  not  long  after,  passing  that  (way,  she  told  me  there 
was  the  Fairy  Boy  but  a  li'ttle  before  I  ca^me  by;  and  casting  her 
eye  into  the  street,  said,  "Look  you,  sir,  yonder  he  is  a't  play  with 
those  other  boys,"  and  designing  him  to  me,  I  went,  and  by  smooth 
words,  and  a  piece  of  money,  g'ot  him  'to  cotaie  into  the  house  with 
me;  where,  in  the  presence  of  divers  'people,  1  demanded  of  him  sev- 
eral astrological  questions,  which  he  answered  witn  great  subtility, 
and  through  all  his  discourse  carryed  it  with  a  cunning  much  above 
his  years,  which  seemed  not  to  exceed  ten  or  eleven.  He  seemed  to 
make  a  motion  like  dru'mming  upon  ahe  table  with  his  fingers,  upon 
which  I  asked  him,  whether  he  could  beat  a  drum,  to  W'hich  he  re- 
plied, "Yes,  sir,  as  well  as  any  man  In  Scotland;  for  every  Thursday 
night  I  beat  all  points  to  a  sort  of  people  that  used  to  meet  under 
yonder  hill"  (pointing  to  the  great  hill  between  Edenborough  and 
l.eith.  "Hew,  boy,"  quoth  I;  "what  company  have  you  there?" 
"There  are,  sir,"  said  he.  "a  great  company  both  of  men  and  women, 
and  they  are  entertained  with  many  sorts  of  musick  besides  my 
drum;  they  have,  besides,  plenty  of  variety  of  'meats  and  wine;  and 
many  times  we  are  carried  into  France  or  Holland  In  a  night,  and 
return  again;  and  wliilst  we  are  there,  we  enjoy  all  the  pleasures 
the  countr\  doth  afford."  I  demanded  of  him,  how  they  got  under 
tnat  hill.  To  which  he  replied,  "That  there  were  a  great  pair  of 
gates  that  opened  to  them,  though  they  were  invisible  to  others,  and 
that  within  there  "were  brave  large  rooms,  as  well  accommodated  as 
most  in  Scotland."  I  then  asked  'him  ihorw  I  should  know  tvhat  he 
said  'to  be  true?  Upon  which  he  told  me,  ihe  would  read  my  fortune, 
saying  I  should  have  t'wo  wives,  and  that  he  saw  ifhe  tforms  of  them 
sitting  on  my  shoulders;  that  both  iwould  be  very  handsome  women. 
As  he  was  thus  speaking  a  woman  of  the  neighibourhood,  coming 
into  the  room,  demanded  oi  him  what  her  'fortune  should  be?  He 
told  her  that  she  had  had  two  bastar'ds  Ibefore  she  was  married; 
which  put  iher  in  such  a  rage  that  she  desired  not  to  hear  the  rest. 
The  woman  'of  'the  house  told  me  that  all  the  people  in  Scotland 
could  not  keep  him  from  the  rendesvous  on  Thursday  night,  upon 
which,  by  ricm.'&lng  him  some  more  money,  I  got  a  promise  of  him 
to  meet  me  'at  the  same  place,  dn  the  afternoon  the  Thursday  fol- 
lowing, and  so  di'smist  him  at  .that  itime.  The  boy  came  again  at 
the  'place  and  time  aippointed,  'and  I  had  prevailed  with  some  friends 
to  continue  with  me  if  possible  to  prevent  his  .m'Oving  that  night; 
he  'was  placed  between  us,  and  answered  many  questions,  -without 
offering  to  go  'from  us,  until  about  eleven  of  the  clock  he  was  gat 
away    unperceived    of    the   company;    but    I    suddenly    missing    hlra. 


iroTEB  tm 

hasted  tio  the  door  and  took  hold  of  hl*n,  and  so  returned  him  Into 
the  same  room;  ■we  all  watched  him,  and  on  a  sudden  he  was  again 
got  out  of  the  doors.  I  followed  him  close,  and  he  made  a  noise  in 
the  street  as  if  he  had  been  sec  upo<n;  but  from  that  time  I  coula 
never  see  him.  OEORGtB  BURTON. 

NOTE  20.— INTEaiCOURSEJ  OP  THE  COVENANTERS  WITH  THE  INVISIBL.E 

WORLD,  p.  145 

The  igloomy,  dangerous  and  constant  wanderings  of  the  perse- 
cuted sfct  cf  Cameronians  naturally  led  to  their  entertaining  wit'h  pe- 
culiar credulity  the  belief  that  they  were  sometimes  persecuted,  not 
only  (by  the  wi-ath  of  men,  but  by  the  secret  wiles  and  open  terrors 
of  'Satan.  In  fact,  a  flood  could  not  happen,  a  horse  cast  a  shoe,  or 
eny  other  the  most  ordinary  interruption  thwart  a  minister's  wish 
to  perform  service  at  a  particular  spiot,    than   the   accident   was   im- 

Suted  to  the  immediate  agency  of  fiends.  The  encounter  of  Alexan- 
er  Peden  with  the  devil  in  the  cave,  and  that  of  John  Semple  with 
the  demon  m  the  ford,  are  given  by  Peter  [Patrick]  Walker,  almost 
in  the  language  of  the  test. 

NOTE  21.— JOCK  DALG1.EISH,  p.  155 

Among  the  flying  leaves  of  the  period  there  is  one  called  'Suther- 
lan-d's  Xiament  'for  the  loss  of  his  post, — 'with  this  advice  to  John  Dag- 
lees,  his  successor.'     He  was  whipped  and  banished,  25tih  July,  1722. 

There  is  anather,  called  The  'Speech  and  Dying  Words  of  John 
Daiglelsh,  Lockman,  al'ias  tH&njgiman,  of  Edinburgh,'  containdng 
these  lines:— 

Death,  I've  a  favour  for  to  beg, 
Tbat  ye  wad  only  gie  a  fleg. 

And  spare  my  life; 
A«  I  did  to  lU-hanged  Megg, 

(Ualng.) 

NOTH  22.— CALUMNIATOR  OP  THE  FAIR  SEX.  p.  176 

The  journal  of  Graves,  a  Bow  Street  officer,  despatched  to  Holland 
to  obtain  the  surrender  of  the  unfortunate  William  Brodie,  bears  a 
reflection  on  the  ladies  somewhat  like  that  put  in  the  mouth  of  the 
police  officer  Sharpitlaw.  It  had  been  found  difficult  to  identify  the 
unhappy  criminal;  and  when  a  Scotch  gentleman  of  respectability 
had  seemed  disrposed  Co  give  evidence  on  the  point  required,  liis  son- 
in-law,  a  ciergyniun  in  Amsterdam,  and  his  daughter,  were  suspected 
by  Graves  to  have  used  arguments  with  the  witnes5s  to  dissuade  him 
fronx  giving  his  testimony;  on  which  subject  the  journal  of  the  Bow 
Street  officer  proceeds  thus: 

'Saw  then  a  manifest  reluctance  in  Mr.  ,  and  had  no  doubt  the 

daughter  and  parson  would  endeavour  to  persuade  him  to  decline 
trouibling  himself  in  the  matter,  but  judged  he  could  not  go  back 
from  what  he  had  said  to  Mr.  Rich.— NOTA  BENE.  No  mischief  but 
a  woman  or  a  priest  in  it— here  both.' 

NOTE  23.— TH'E  .MAGISTRATES  AND  THE  PORTEOUS  MOB,  p.  1S5 

The  ."Magistrates  were  closely  interrogated  before  the  House  of 
Peers,  concerning  the  particulars  of  the  Molb,  and  the  patois  In 
which  these  functiionaries  m'ade  their  answers  sounded  strange  in  the 
ears  O'f  the  Southern  nobles.  The  Duke  of  Newcastle  having  de- 
manded to  know  with  what  kind  of  shot  the  guard  which  Porteous 
commanded  had  loaded  their  muskets,  was  answe'red  naively,  'Ow, 
Just  sic  as  ane  shoots  dukes  and  fools  with.'  This  reply  was  consid- 
ered as  a  contempt  of  the  House  of  Lords,  and  the  Provost  would 
have  suffered  accordingly,  but  that  the  Duke  of  Argyle  explained 
that  the  expression,  properly  rendered  in  English,  means  ducks  and 
wa/terfowl. 


638  WA  VEBLE  T  ITO  VELS 

XOTH  24.— SIR   WILUAM  DICK  OF  BRAID,  p.   18< 

This  gentleman  formed  a  striking  example  of  the  instability  of 
human  prosperity.  He  was  once  the  wealthiest  man  of  his  time  In 
Scotland,  a  merchanit  in  an  extensive  line  of  cammerce,  and  a  farmer 
of  the  public  revenue;  insomuch  that,  about  1640,  he  estimated  his  for- 
tune at  £200,000  sterling.  Sir  William  Dick  was  a  zealous  Cov^anter, 
and  in  the  memorable  year  1641  he  lent  the  Scottish  Convention  of 
Estates  one  hundred  thousand  merks  ait  once,  and  thereby  enabled 
them  to  support  and  pay  their  army,  which  must  otherwise  have 
broken  to  pieces.  He  afterwards  advanced  £20,000  for  the  service  of 
King  Charles,  during  the  usurpation;  and  having,  by  owning  the  royal 
cause,  provoked  the  displeasure  of  the.  ruling  party,  he  was  fleeced  of 
more  money,  amounting  in  all  to   £65,000  sterling. 

Being  in  this  mannei;  reduced  to  indigence,  he  went  to  London  to 
try  to  recover  some  part  of  the  sums  which  had  been  lent  on  govern- 
ment security.  Instead  of  receiving  any  satisfaction,  the  Scottish 
Croesus  was  "thrown  into  prison,  in  which  he  died  19th  December,  1655. 
It  is  said  his  death  was  hastened  by  the  want  of  common  necessaries. 
But  this  statement  is  somewhat  exaggerated,  if  it  be  true,  as  is  com- 
monly said,  that,  though  he  was  not  supplied  with  bread,  he  had 
plenty  of  pie-crust,  thence  called  "Sir  William  Dick's  necessity." 

The  chansres  of  fortune  are  commemorated  in  a  folio  pamphlet. 
entitled  The  Lamentable  Estate  and  Distressed  Case  of  Sir  Williami 
Dick  [1656.1  It  contams  several  copperplates,  one  representing  Sir 
William  on  horseback,  and  attended  with  guards  as  Lord  Provost  of 
Edinburgh,  superintending  the  unloading  of  one  of  his  rich  argosies; 
a  second  exhibiting  him  as  arrested  and  in  the  hands  of  the  baliffs;  a 
third  presents  him  dead  In  prison.  The  tract  is  esteemed  highly  valu- 
abQe  by  collectors  of  prints.  The  only  copy  I  ever  saw  upon  sale  was 
rated  at  £30. 

NOTE  25.— MEETING  AT  TAT  J.  A  LINNS,  p.  190 

This  remarkable  convocationi  took  place  upon  loth  June,  1682,  and 
an  account  of  its  confused  and  divisive  proceedings  may  be  found  in 
Michael  Shields' s  Faithful  Contendings  Displayed.  Glasgow,  1780,  p. 
21.  It  affords  a  singular  and  melancholy  example  how  much  a  meta- 
physical and  polemical  spirit  had  crept  in  amongst  these  unhappy  suf- 
ferers, since,  amid  so  many  real  injuries  whicli  they  had  to  sustain, 
they  were  disposed  to  add  disagreement  and  disunion  concerning  the 
ohairacter  and  extent  of  such  as  were  only  imaginary. 

NOTE'  26.— D00M3TER  OR  DEMPSTER  OF  COURT,  p.  236 

The  name  of  this  officer  is  equivalent  to  the  pronouncer  of  doom 
or  sentence.  In  this  comprehensive  sense,  the  judges  of  the  Isle  of 
Man  were  called  Dempsters.  But  in  Scotland  the  word  was  long  re- 
stricted to  the  designation  of  an  official  person,  whose  duty  is  was  to 
recite  the  sentence  after  it  had  been  pronounced  by  th©  Court,  and 
recorded  by  the  clerk;  on  which  occasion  the  Dempster  legalized  it 
tlie  words  of  form,  'And  this  I  pronounce  for  doom.'  For  a  length 
of  years,  the  office,  as  mentioned  in  the  text,  was  held  in  commendam 
with  tha.t  of  the  executioner;  for  when  this  odious  but  necessary  offi- 
cer of  justice  received  his  appointment  he  petitioned  the  Court  of 
Justiciary  to  be  received  as  their  dempster,  which  was  granted  as  a 
matter  of  course. 

The  production  of  the  executioner  in  open  court,  and  in  presence 
of  the  wretchSd  criminal,  had  something  in  it  hideous  and  disgusting 
to  the  more  refined  feelings  of  later  times.  But  if  an  old  tradition  of 
the  Parliament  House  of  Edinburgh  may  be.  trusted,  it  was  the  fol- 
lowing anecdote  which  occasioned  the  disuse  of  the  dempster's 
office: — 

It  chanced  at  one  time  that  the  office  of  public  executioner  was 
vacant.  There  was  occasion  for  some  one  to  act  as  dempster,  and, 
considering  the  party  who  generally  held  the  office,  it  is  not  wonder- 
ful that  a  locum  tenens  was  hard  to  be  found.  At  length  one  Hume, 
Who  had  been  sentenced  to  transportation  for  an  attempt  to  burn  his 


WOTES  B39 

ow^.  house.  v^-as  Induced  to  consent  'that  he  wou'ld  pro- 
nounce the  doom  on  t'his  occasion.  But  when  brought  forth  to 
officiate,  instead  of  repeating  the  doom  to  the  criminal,  Mr.  Hume 
addressed  himself  to  their  lordships  In  a  bitter  complaint  of  the  in- 
justice of  his  own  sentence.  It  was  in  vain  that  he  was  interrupted, 
and  reminded  of  the  purp'ose  for  which  he  had  come  hither.  'I  kea 
what  ye  want  of  me  weel  enough,'  said  the  fellow,  'ye  want  me  to  b© 
your  dempster;  but  I  am  come  to  be  none  of  your  dempster;   I  am 

come  to  summon  you,  Lord  T ,  and  you.  Lord  B ,  to  answer  at 

the  bar  of  another  world  for  the  injustice  you  have  done  me  In  this.' 
In  short,  Hume  had  only  nude  a  pretext  of  complying  with  the  pro- 
posal, in  order  to  have  an  opportunity  of  reviling  the  Judges  to  their 
faces]  or  giving  them,  in  the  phrase  of  his  country,  'a  sloan."  He 
was  hurried  off  amid  the  laughter  of  the  audience,  but  the  indecorous 
scene  which  had  taken  place  contributed  to  the  abolition  of  the  ofhce 
of  dempster.  The  sentence  is  now  read  over  by  the  clerk  of  the 
court,  and  the  formality  of  pronouncing  doom  is  altogether 
omitted. — 

The  usage  of  calling  the  dempster  into  court  by  the  ringing  of  a 
hand  bell,  to  repeat  the  sentence  on  a  criminal,  is  said  to  have  been 
abrogated  in  Maroh,  1773  (Laing). 

NOTE  27.— JOHN  DUKE  OF  ARGYLE  AND  GREENWJCH,   p.    239 

This  nobleman  was  very  dear  to  his  countrymen,  who  were  justly 
proud  of  his  military  and  political  talents,  and  grateful  for  the  ready 
zeal  with  which  he  asserted  tiie  rights  of  his  native  country.  This 
was  never  more  conspicuous  than  in  the  matter  of  the  Porteous  Mob, 
when  the  Ministers  brought  in  a  violent  and  vindictive  bill  for  de- 
claring the  Lord  Provost  of  Edinburgh  incapable  of  bearing  any  pub- 
lic ofttce  in  future  for  not  foreseeing  a  disorder  which  no  one  foresaw, 
or  interrupting  the  course  of  a  liot  too  formidable  to  endure  opposition. 
The  same  bill  made  provision  for  pulling  down  the  city  gates  and 
abolishing  the  city  guard,— rather  a  Hibernian  mode  of  enabling  them 
better  to  keep  the  peace  within  burgh  in  future. 

The  Duke  of  Argyle  opposed  this  bill  as  a  cruel,  unjust  and 
fanatical  proceeding,  and  an  encroachment  upon  the  privileges  of  the 
royal  burghs  of  Scotland,  secured  to  them  by  the  treaty  of  Union. 
'In  all  the  proceedings  of  that  time,'  said  his  Grace,  'the  nation  of 
Scotland  treated  with  the  English  as  a  free  and  independent  people; 
and  as  that  treaty,  my  lords,  had  no  further  guarantee  for  the  due 
performance  of  its  articles  but  the  faith  and  honour  of  a  British  Par- 
liament, it  would  be  both  unjust  and  ungenerous  should  this  House 
agree  to  any  proceedings  that  have  a  tendency  to  injure  it.' 

Lord  Hardwicke,  in  reply  to  the  Duke  of  Argyle,  seemed  to  Insin- 
uate that  his  Grace  had  taken  up  the  affair  in  a  party  point  of  view, 
to  which  the  nobleman  replied  in  the  spirited  language  quoted  in  the 
text.  Lord  Hardwicke  apologized.  The  bill  was  much  modified,  and 
the  clauses  concerning  the  dismantling  the  city  and  disbanding  the 
guard  were  departed  from. 

A  fine  of  £2,000  was  imposed  on  the  city  for  the  benefit  of  Porteus's 
widow.  She  was  contented  to  accept  three-forrths  of  the  sum.  the 
payment  of  which  closed  the  transaction.  It  is  remarkable  that  in 
our  day  the  magistrates  of  Edinburgh  have  had  recourse  to  both 
those  mea? ures.  held  in  such  'horror  by  their  predecessors,  as  neces- 
sary steps  for  the  improvement  of  the  city. 

It  may  be  here  noticed,  in  explanation  o*  another  circumstance 
mentioned  in  the  text,  that  there  is  a  tradition  in  Scotland  that 
George  IT.,  whose  irascible  temper  is  said  sometimes  to  have 
hurried  him  into  expressing  his  disnleasure  par  vole  du 
fait,  offered  to  the  Duke  of  Argyle,  in  angry  audience,  some 
menace  of  this  nature,  on  which  (he  left  the  presence  in  high  disdain, 
and  with  little  ceremony.  Sir  Rohert  Walpole.  having  met  the  Duka 
as  he  retired  and  learning  the  cause  of  his  resentment  and  discom- 
posure, rn.ieavored  to  reconcile  him  to  what  had  happened  by  saying. 
Such  was  his  Majesty's  way,  and  that  he  often  took  such  liberties 
with  himself  without  meaning  any  harm.'  This  did  not  mend  matters 
in  MacOallummore's  eyes,  who  replied,  in  great  disdain,  'Tou  will 
please  to  remember.  Sir  Robert,  the  infinite  distance  there  Is  betwixt 


540  WA  VERLE  Y  NO  VELS 

you  an<1  me.'     Another  frequent  expression  of  passion  on  fhe  part  0( 
the  same  monarch  is  alluded  to  in  Dhe  old  Jacobite  aong: 
The  flre  shall   get   both  hat  and   wig, 
As  o£t  times  they've  got  a'   tha;t. 

NOTE    28.— MURDER    OF    THE    TWO    SHAWS,    »,    242 

In  1828,  the  Author  presented  to  the  Rox'burgh  Club  a  curious  vol- 
ume conltaining-  the  Proceedings  in  the  CourtJMartial  held  upon  John, 
Master  of  Sinclair  .  .  .  for  the  Murder  of  Ensign  Schaw  .  .  . 
and  Captain  Schaw    .    .    .    17th  October  1708  (Laing). 

NOTE   29.— BORROWING   DAYS,    p.    275 

The  three  last  days  of  >Ma.rch,  lold  style,  are  called  the  Borrowing 
Days;  for,  as  they  are  remarked  to  be  unusually  stormy,  it  is  feigned 
that  March  had  borrowed  them  fr'om  Aipril,  to  extend  the  sphere  of 
his  rougher  sway.  The  rhyme  o'n  the  subject  is  quoted  in  Leyden's 
edition  oi  the  Coimpiaynt  of  Scotland.— 

March  said  to  Aperill 

I  see  three  hogs  upun  a  hill: 


Bjt   when  the   borrowed  days  were   gane. 
The  three  silly   hogs  cams  hirplin'    hame. 

(Laing.) 

NOTE  30.— BUCKHOLMSIDE   CHEESE,    p.    379 

The  hilly  pastures  of  Buckholm,  whicb  the  Author  now  surveys. 

Not   in   the  frenzy  of  a  dreamer's  eye, 
are  famed  for  producing   the  best   ewe-milk   cheese  an   the   souith   of 
Scotland. 

NOTE   31.— EXPULSION  OF  THE  BISHOPS  FROM  THE  SCOTTISH  CONVENTION, 

B.    391 

For  some  time  after  the  (Scottish  Convention  had  commenced  its 
sittings,  the  Scottish  prelates  retained  their  seats,  and  said  prayers  by- 
rotation  to  the  meeting,  until  the  character  of  the  Convention  became, 
through  Ithe  secession  of  Dundee,  decidedly  iresbytcrian.  Occasion 
was  then  ttiken  on  the  Bishop  of  Ross  mentioning  King  James  in  his 
prayer,  as  him  for  whom  they  watered  their  couch  with  tears — on  this 
the  Convention  exclaimed,  they  had  no  occasion  for  spiritual  lords, 
and  commanded  the  bishops  to  depart  and  return  no  more,  Mont- 
gomery of  Skelmorley  breaking  at  the  same  time  a  coarse  jest  upon 
the  scriptural  expression  used  iby  Ithe  prelate.  Davie  Deans's  oracle, 
Fatrlck  Walker,  gives  this  account  of  their  dismission:— 'When  they 
came  out,  soime  o'f  the  Convention  said  they  iwished  that  the  honest 
lads  knew  Ithat  they  /were  put  out,  for  then  they  would  not  win  away 
with  hael  [whole]  gowns.  All  the  fourteen  gathered  together  with  pal© 
faces  and  stood  in  a  cloud  in  the  Parliament  Close.  James  W'iison, 
Rcbert  Neilson,  Francis  Hislop.  and  myself  were  standing  close  by 
them.  Francis  Hislop  with  force  thrust  Robert  'Neilsnn  upon  them; 
their  heads  went  hard  upon  one  another.  But  there  being  so  many 
enemies  in  the  city  fretting  and  gnashing  their  teeth,  waiting  .for  an 
occasion  to  raise  a  mob,  where  undoubtedly  /blood  would  have  been 
shed,  and  we  having  laid  down  conclusions  among  ourselves  'to  guard 
against  giving  the  least  occasion  to  all  mobs,  kept  us  from  tearing  of 
their  gowns. 

"Their  graceless  Graces  (went  quickly  of.  ant!  neither  "bishop  nor 
curate  was  seen  in  the  streets;  this  was  a  surprising  sudden  change 
not  to  be  forgdtten.  Some  of  us  ^would  have  rejoiced  more  than  in 
great  sums  to  have  seen  these  ibishopg  sent  legally  down  the  Bow, 
that  they  mig'ht  have  found  the  weight  of  their  tails  In  a  (tow  to  dry 
their  hose-soles;  that  they  might  know  'what  hanpr'ing  was,  they  hav- 
y-ig  been  active  for  themselves,  and  the  maiii  Instigators  to  all  th* 


NOTES  Ml 

mischiefs,  cruelties,  and  bloodshed  of  that  time,  wherein  the  streets  otf 

E'clinburgh  and  other  places  o'f  the  land  did  ruu  with  tlie  innocent, 
precious  dear  blood  of  the  Lord's  people.'— Life  and  Death  of  three 
famous  Worthies  (Semple,  etc.),  by  Patrick  Walker,  Edln  1727,  pp. 
72,  73. 

NOTE  32.— HAliF-HANGED  MAGGIE  DICKSON,  p.   399 

In  the  statistical  Account  of  the  Parish  of  Inveresk  (vol.  xvi.  p. 
34),  Dr.  Carlyle  says,  'No  person  has  been  convicted  of  a  capital  fel- 
ony since  the  year  1728,  when  the  famous  Maggy  Dickson  was  con- 
demned and  executed  for  child-murder  in  the  Grassmarkct  of  Bdin- 
Lturgh,  and  was  restored  to  life  in  a  car't  on  her  way  ho  Musselburg-h 
to  be  buried  .  .  .  She  kept  an  ale-house  in  a  neighboring  parish  for 
many  >ears  after  she  came  to  life  again,  which  was  niucn  rcborted  tu 
from  curiosity.'  After  the  body  was  cut  down  and  handed  over  to  her 
relatives,  her  revival  is  aDDributed  to  tlie  jolting  o'l  tiie  curt,  and  ac- 
cording to  Rotoert  Chambers— taking  a  retired  road  to  .Uusselburgh, 
'they  stopped  near  Peffer-mlll  to  get  a  dram;  and  when  they  came 
out  from  tlie  house  to  resume  itlivir  journey,  'Mag^'ie  was  sitting  up  in 
the  cart.'  Among  the  poems  of  Alexander  Pennecuick,  who  died  in  1730 
(1722),  is  one  entitled  'The  Merry  Wives  of  Musselburgh's  Welcome  to 
Meg-  Dickson;'  while  anotiher  broadside,  without  any  date  or  au- 
thor's name,  is  called  'Alargaiet  Dickson's  Penitential  Confession.' 
containing  these  lines  refernua  to  her  couviction; 

Who  found  me  guilty  of  that  barbarous  crime, 
Ami  did,    by  law,   end  this  wretched   life  of  mine; 
iiul  God    .     .     .     did  me  preserve,  etc. 

In    another    of    these    ephemeral    productio.ns    hawked    about    th« 

streets,  called  'A  Ballad  by  J— n  B s,'  are  the  following  lines; 

Please  peruse  the  speecli 
Of  ill-hanged  Maggy  Dickson. 
Ere  slie  was  strung,   the  wicked  wife 

Was  sainted   by   the  fiamen   tpriest), 
'Bait  now,   since  slie's  returu'd  to  life. 
Some  say  she's  the  old  samen. 
In  his  reference  to  Maggie's  calling  'salt'  after  her  recovery,  th© 
Author   would  appear   to  be  alluding   to  another  character,   wh(j   went 
by  the  name  of  'saut  Maggie,'  and  is  represented  in  one  or  more  old 
etchings  about  1790  (Laiing). 

NOTE  33.— MADGiE  WltDFIRE,  9.  403 

In  taking  leave  of  the  poor  maniac,  the  Aulthor  may  oibserve  that 
the  first  conception  of  the  character,  though  afterwards  greatly 
altered,  was  taken  from  that  of  a  person  calling  herself,  and  called 
by  others  i'eckless  Fannie  [weak  or  feeble  Fannie],  who  always  trav- 
elled with  a  small  flock  of  sheep.  The  following  account,  furnisihed 
by  the  persevering  kindness  of  Mr.  Train,  contains  probably  all  that 
can  now  be  known  of  her  history,  though  many,  among:  whom  is  the 
Author,  may  remember  having  heard  of  Feckless  Fannie  in  the  days 
of  Oheir  youth. 

'My  leisure  hours,'  says  Mr.  Train,  'for  some  time  past  have  been 
mostly  ayint  in  searching  for  particulars  relating  to  the  maniac 
called  Feckless  Fannie,  who  travelled 'over  all  Scotland  and  England, 
between  the  years  1767  and  1775,  and  whose  history  is  altogether  so 
like  a  romance,  that  I  have  been  at  all  possible  pains  to  collect  every 
particular  ;tliat  can  be  found  relative  to  her  in  Gaaoway  or  in  Ayr- 
S!hire. 

'W'hen  Feckless  Fannie  appeared  in  Ayrshire,  for  the  first  time. 
In  the  summer  of  1769,  she  attracted  much  notice  from  being  attended 
by  twelve  or  thirteen  sheep,  .who  seemed  all  endued  witli  faculties  so 
much  superior  to  the  ordinary  race  of  animals  of  the  same  species  as 
to  excite  universal  astonishment.  She  had  for  each  a  different  name, 
to  which  it  answered  when  called  by  its  mistress,  and  would  likewise 
obey  in  the  most  surprising  manner  any  command  she  thought  proper 
to  give.  When  travelling,  she  always  walked  in  front  of  her  flock, 
9/dA  they  followed  her  closely  behind.    When  she  lay  down  at  night  in 


M8  WA  VERLE  F  NO  VELS 

the  fields,  for*  she  would  never  enter  into  a  house,  they  always  dis- 
puted who  should  lie  next  to  lier,  by  which  means  she  was  kept 
warm.  whiGe  she.  lay  in  the  midst  of  t'hem;  when  she  attempted  to 
rise  from  the  ground,  an  old  ram.  Whose  name  was  Charlie,  always 
claimed  the  sole  right  of  assisting  her;  pushing-  any  that  stood  in  his 
way  aside,  until  he  arrived  right  before  his  mistress;  he  t'hen  bowed 
h'is  head  nearly  to  the  ground  that  she  might  lay  her  hands  on  his 
horns,  which  were  very  large;  'he  then  lifted  her  gently  from  the 
ground  by  raising  his  head.  If  she  chanced  to  leave  her  flock  feeding, 
as  soon  as  they  discovered  slie  was  gone,  ihey  all  began  to  bleat  most 
piteousJy,  and  would  continue  it!o  do  so  until  she  returned;  they  would 
then  testify  their  joy  by  rubbing  their  sides  against  toer  petticoat,  and 
frisking  about. 

'I  eckless  Fannie  was  not,  like  most  other  demented  creatures, 
fond  of  fine  dress;  on  her  head  she  wore  an  old  slouched  hat,  over 
her  shoulders  an  old  pla.d,  and  carried  always  in  her  hand  a  shep- 
ard's  crook;  with  any  of  these  articles  slie  invariably  declared  she 
would  not  part  for  any  consideration  whatever.  When  she  was  in- 
terrogated why  she  set  so  much  value  on  things  seemingly  so  insig- 
nificant, she  would  sometimes  relate  the  history  of  her  rnisfortune, 
which  was  briefly  as  follows: —  ^ 

'  "I  am  the  only  daughter  of  a  wealthy  squire  in  the  north  of  Eng- 
land, but  I  loved  my  father's  shepard,  and  that  has  been  my  ruin;  for 
my  father,  fearing  his  family  would  be  disgraced  by  such  an  alliance, 
in  a  passion  mortally  wounded  my  lover  with  a  shot  from  a  pistol.  I 
arrived  just  in  time  to  receive  the  last  blessing  of  the  dying  man, 
and  to  close  his  eyes  in  death.  He  bequeathed  me  his  little  all,  but  I 
only  accepted  these  shi-'ep  to  be  my  sole  companions  through  lil'e,  aiul 
this  hat,  this  plaid,  and  this  crook,  all  of  which  I  will  carry  until  I 
descend  into  tlie  grave." 

'This  is  the  substance  of  a  ballad,  eighty-four  lines  of  which  I 
copied  down  lately  from,  the  recitation  of  an  old  woman  in  this  place, 
who  says  she  has  seen  it  in  (print,  with  a  plate  on  the  title  page  rep- 
resenting Fannie  with  her  sheep  behind  her.  As  this  ballad  is  said  tG 
have  bean  written  by  Lowe,  the  au'thor  of  ""Mary's  Dream."  J  am 
surprised  that  it  has  not  been  noticed  by  Cromek  in  his  Remains  or 
Nithsdale  and  Galloway  Song;  but  he  perhaps  thought  it  unworthy 
of  a  place  in  his  collection,  as  there  is  very  little  merit  in  the  compo- 
sition; which  want  of  room  prevents  me  from  transcribing  at  present. 
But  if  I  thought  you  had  never  seen  it,  I  wonld  take-  an  early  oppor- 
tunity of  doing  so. 

'After  having  made  the  tour  of  Galloway  in  1769.  as  Fannie  was 
wandering  in  the  neig-tiborhood  of  Mofl'at.  on  her  way  to  Edinburgh, 
where,  I  am  informed,  she  was  likewise  well  known.  Old  Charlie,  fier 
favorite  ram,  chanced  to  break  into  a  kale-yard,  which  the  proprietor 
observing,  let  loose  a  mastiff,  that  hunted  the  poor  sheep  lO'  death. 
This  was  a  sad  misfortune;  it  seemed  to  renc  v.'  all  the  pangs  which 
she 'formerly  felt  on  the  death  of  her  lover.  She  would  not  part  from 
the  side  of  her  old  friend  for  several  days,  and  it  was  with  much 
diffloulty  she  consented  to  allow  'him  to  be  burlel;  but.  still  wishing 
to  pay  a  tribute  to  his  memory,  she  covered  his  grave  with  moss, 
and  fenced  it  round  wi'th  osiers,  and  annually  returned  tO'  the  same 
soot,  and  pulled  the  weeds  from  the  grave  and  repaired  the  fence. 
This  is  altogether  like  a  romance;  but  I  believe  that  it  is  really  true 
that  she  did  so.  The  grave  'of  Charlie  is  still  held  sacred  even  by  the 
schoolboys  of  the  present  day  in  that  quarter.  It  is  now,  perhap.?, 
the  only  instance  of  the  law  of  Kenneth  being  atte.ided  to,  which 
says,  "The  grave  where  anie  that  is  slaine  lieth  'buried,  leave  untilled 
for  seven  years.  Repute  every  grave  iholie  so  as  'thou  be  well  advised, 
that  in  no  wise  with  thy  feet  thou  tread  upon  it." 

'Through  the  storms  of  winter,  as  well  as  in  the  milder  season  o' 
the  year,  she  continued  her  wandering  course,  nor  could  she  be  pre- 
vented from  doing  so.  either  by  entreaty  or  promise  of  reward.  The 
late  Dr.  Fullarton  of  Rosemount,  In  the  neighbourhood  of  Ayr.  being 
■well  acquainted  with  her  ifather  when  in  England,  endeavoured,  in  a, 
severe  seaso'n.  by  every  means  in  his  power^  to  detain  her  at  Rose- 
■snount  for  a  few  days  until  the  weather  should  become  more  mild;  bn' 
when  she  found  herself  rested  a  little,  and  saw  her  sheep  fed.  sb* 
raised  her  crook,  which  was  the  signal  she  always  gave  for  the  <heep 
to  follow  her,  and  off  they  all  marched  together. 


KOTEB  643 

•But  the  hour  of  poor  Pannie's  dissolution  was  '»ow  at  hand,  and 
she  seemed  anxious  to  arrive,  at  tl^e  spot  where  sh;'.  .;ras  ,tG  terminate 
her  mortal  career.  She  proceeded  ty  Glasgow,  Ai',''.,  while  passing 
through  that  city,  a  crowd  of  idle  boys,  'attractwi  by  her  singular 
appearance,  together  with  the  novelty  of  seeing  so  .iiwny  .sheep  obey- 
ing her  command,  begaji  to  torment  her  with  their  pranks,  till  she 
became  so  irritated  that  she  pelted  them  with  brtihs  and  stones, 
which  they  returned  in  such  a  manner  that  she  was  actuaJly  stoned 
to  death   between  Glasgow   and   Anderston. 

'To  the  real  history  of  this  singular  mdividual,  prtdulity  has  at- 
tached several  superstitious  appendages.  It  is  said  tlvst  the  farmer 
who  was  the  cause  of  Charlie's  death  shortly  afterwards  drowned 
himself  in  a  peat-hag;  and  that  the  hand  with  which  a  butcher  in 
Kilmarnock  struck  one  of  the  other  sheep  became  p<"v/erless,  and 
withered  to  the  very  bone.  In  the  summer  of  1769.  when  she  was 
passing  by  New  Cumnock,  a  young  man,  whose  name  was  VV  illiam 
Forsyth  son  of  a  farmer  in  the  same  parish,  plagued  her  so  much 
that  she  wished  he  might  never  see  the  morn;  upon  which  he  went 
home  and  hanged  himself  in  his  father's  barn.  And  1  doubt  not 
many   such   stories   may   yet  he   remembered   in   other   pirts    where 

she  had  been."  ,        ,,  .      .,..    „     •    j..        ^i,    ^ 

So  far  Mt   Train.    The  Author  can  only  add  to  this  na'^--ative,  that 

Feckless  Fannie  and  her  little  flock  were  well  known  in  \lts  pastoral 

In  attempting  to  introduce  such  a  character  into  Rcilon,  the 
Author  felt  the  risk  o'f  encountering  a  comparison  with  the  Maria 
of  Sterne;  and.  besides,  the  mechanism  of  the  story  would  have  been 
as  much  retarded  by  Feckless  Fannie's  flock  as  the  night  march  of 
Don  Quixote  was  delayed  by  Sancho's  tale  of  the  sheep  that  were 
ferried  over  the  river.  .  ,  ^.         ^ 

The  Author  has  only  to  add  that,  notwithstanding  the  preciseness 
of  his  friend  Mr.  Train's  statement,  there  may  be  some  hopes  that 
the  outrage  on  Feckless  Famnie  and  her  little  flock  was  not  carried 
to  extremity.  There  is  no  mention  of  any  trial  on  account  of  it, 
which,  had  it  occurred  in  the  manner  slated,  would  liave  certainly 
taken  place;  and  the  Author  has  understood  that  it  was  on  the  Bor- 
der she  was  last  seen,  about  the  skirts  of  the  Cheviot  Hills,  but  With- 
out her  little  flock. 

NOTE  34.— SHAWPIELD'S   iTOB.    p.    407 

In  1725  there  was  a  great  Hot  in  Glasgow  on  account  of  the  malt 
tax.  Among  the  troops  broucnt  in  to  restort  order  was  one  of  th« 
independent  comipanies  of  Highlanders  levied  in  Argyleshire.  and  dis- 
tinguished in  a  lampoon  of  the  period  as  'CampbMI  of  Carrick  and 
his  Highland  thieves.'  It  was  called  ©hawfleid's  Moib.  because  much 
of  the  popular  violence  was  directed  against  Daniel  Campbell,  Esq.,  ot 
Shawfield,  M.  P.,  provost  of  the  town. 

NOTE  35.— DEATH  OF  FRANCIS  GORDON,   p.   428 

This  exploit  seems  to 'have  been  one  In  whichPatrick  Walker  prided 
himself  not  a,  little;  and  there  is  reason  to  fear  that  that  excellent 
person  would  have  highly  resented  the  attempt  to  associate  another 
with  him  in  the  slaughter  of  a  King's  Life  Guardsman.  Indeed,  he 
would  have  'had  the  more  right  to  be  offended  at  losing  any  share  ot 
the  glory,  since  the  party  against  Gordon  was  already  three  to  one, 
besides  having  the  advantage  of  firearms.  The  manner  in  which  he 
vindicates  his  claim  to  the  exploit,  without  committing  himself  by  a 
direct  statement  of  it,  is  not  a  little  amusing.     It  is  as  follows:— 

'I  shall  give  a  brief  and  true  account  of  that  man's  death,  which  I 
did  not  design  to  do  while  I  'was  upon  the  s^tage.  I  resolve,  indeed 
(if  the  Lord  will),  to  leave  a  more  full  account  of  that  and  many 
other  remarkable  steps  of  the  Lord's  dispensations  towards  me 
thoroiw  my  life.  It  was  then  commonly  .said  that  Francis  Gordon  was 
a  volunteer  out  of  wickedness  of  principles,  and  could  not  stay  wit/k 
the  troDp,  but  was  still  raging  and  ranging  to  catch  hiding  .suffering 
people.  Meldrum  and  Airly's  troops  lyins  at  Lanark  upon  the  first 
day   of  March,   1682.   Mr.    Gordon   and    another  wicked  comrade.    w4tb 


544  wav:erl£;y  novels 

the/1  two  servants  and  four  horses,  came  to  Kilcaigow,  two  mllee 
from  Lanark,  searching-  for  William  Oai'grow  and  others  under  hiding. 
Mr.  Gordon,  rambling  throw  the  town,  offered  to  abuse  the  women. 
At  night,  they  came  a  mile  further  to  tihe  easter  seat,  to  Robert 
iMuir's,  he  being  also  under  hiding.  G-ordon's  comrade  and  the  two 
servanits  went  to  bed,  but  he  could  sleep  none,  roaring  all  night  for 
women.  When  day  came,  he  took  only  his  sword  in  his  hand,  ancj 
came  to  Moss-platt,  and  some  men  [who  had  been  in  the  fields  all 
night]  seeing  him,  they  fled,  and  he  pursued.  Jame^  Wilson,  Thomas 
Young,  and  myself,  having  been  in  a  meeting  all  night,  were  lyen 
down  in  the  morning.  We  were  alarmed,  thinking  theire  were  many 
mo  than  one;  he  pursued  hard,  and  overtook  us.  Thomas  Young  said, 
"Sir,  what  do  ye  pursue  us  for?"  He  said,  "He  was  come  to  eend  us 
to  hell."  James  Wilson  said,  "That  shall  not  be,  for  we  will  defend 
ourselves."  He  said,  "That  either  he  or  we  should  go  to  it  now."  He 
run  his  sword  furiously  'thorow  James  Wilson's  coat.  James  flred 
upon  him,  but  missed  him.  All  the  time  he  cried,  "Damn  his  soul!" 
He  got  a  shot  in  his  head  'out  of  a  pocket  pistol,  .rather  fit  for  divert- 
ing a  boy  than  killing  such  a  furious,  mad,  brisk  man,  which,  not- 
withstanding killed  him  dead.  The  foreisaid  William  Caigow  and 
Robert  Muir  came  to  us.  We  searched  him  for  papers,  and  found  a 
long  scroll  of  sufferers'  names,  either  to  kill  or  take.  I  tore  it  all  in 
pieces.  He  had  also  some  Popish  books  and  bonds  of  money,  wi'th  one 
dollar,  which  a  poor  man  took  off  the  ground;  all  which  we  put  in  his 
pocket  again.  Thus,  he  'was  four  miles  from  Lanark,  and  near  a 
mile  from  his  comrade,  seeking  his  own  death,  and  got  it.  And  for  as 
much  as  we  have  been  condemned  for  this,  I  could  never  see  how  any 
one  could  condemn  us  that  allows  of  self-defence,  which  the  laws 
both  of  God  and  nature  allow  to  every  creature.  For  my  own  part, 
my  heart  never  smote  me  for  this.  When  I  saw  his  blood  run,  I 
wished  that  all  the  'blood  of  the  Lord's  etated  and  avowed  enemies  in 
Scotland  had  been  in  his  veins.  Having  such  a  clear  call  and  oppor- 
tunity, I  would  have  rejoiced  to  Ihave  ;seen  it  all  gone  out  with  a  gush. 
I  have  many  times  wondered  at  the  greater  part  of  the  indulged,  luke- 
warm ministers  and  ^professors  in  that  time,  who  made  more  noiee  of 
murder  when  one  of  these  enemies  has  been  killed,  even  in  our  own 
defence,  than  of  twenty  of  us  'being  murdered  by  them.  None  of  t'hese 
men  present  was  challenged  for  this  but  myself.  Thomas  Young  there- 
after suffered  at  Machline.  but  was  not  challenged  for  this;  Rob- 
ert Muir  was  banished;  J'ames  Wilson  outlived  the  persecution; 
William  Caigow  died  in  the  Canongate  tolbooth.  in  the  beginning-  of 
1685.  Mr.  Wodrow  is  misinformed,  who  eays  that  he  suffered  unto 
death'   (pp.  165-167). 


NOTE  36.— TOLLING  TO  SERVIOE  IN  SCOTLAND,  p.   445 

In  the  old  days  of  Scotland,  when  ipersons  of  property,  unless  they 
happened  to  be  nonjurors,  were  as  regular  as  'their  inferiors  in  at- 
tendance on  parochial  worship,  there  was  a  kind  of  etiquette  in  wait- 
ing till  the  patron  or  acknowledged  great  man  of  the  parich  should 
make  his  appearance.  This  ceremonial  iwas  so  sacred  in  the  eyes  of 
a  parish  beadle  in  the  Isle  of  Bute,  that  the  kirk  bell  ibeing  out  of 
order,  he  is  said  to  have  mounted  the  steeple  every  Sunday,  to  imitate 
with  his  voice  tihe  successive  summonses  Which  its  mouth  of  metal 
used  to  send  forth.  The  first  part  of  this  imitative  iharmony  was 
simplj'  the  repetition  of  the  words  'BeH  bell,  beil  ibell,'  two  or  three 
times,  in  a  manner  as  much  resembling  the  sound  ae  throat  of  flesh 
could  imitate  throat  of  iron.  'Bellum!  bellum!'  was  sounded  forth  in 
a  more  urgent  manner;  but  he  never  sent  forth  the  tlhird  and  con- 
clusive peal,  the  varied  tone  of  which  is  called  in  Scotland  the  'ring- 
ing-in,'  until  the  two  principal  heritors  of  the  parish  approached, 
when  the  chimes  ran  thus:— 

Bellum  Bellellum, 

Bernera  and   Knoekdow's   coming! 
Bellum  Bellellum, 

Bernera  and   Knoekdow's   coming! 
Thereby  Intimating'  that  service  was  instan'tly  to  proceed.— 

Mr.  Macinlay  of  Borro'wstounness,  a  native  of  Bute,  states  that 
Ulr  Walter  Scott  had   this  story  from   Sir  Adam  Ferguson;   but  that 


JSrOTES  646 

the  gallant  knight  had  not  given  the  lairds'  titles  correctly— the  oell- 
man'g  greait  men  being  Craich,  Drumibuie,  and  Barnernie.— 1842 
(Laine). 

NOTE   37.— RATCLIFFE.    p.    502 

There  seems  an  anachronism  in  the  history  of  this  person.  Rat- 
cTiffe,  among  other  escaipes  from  justice,  was  released  'by  the  Por 
teous  mob  iwhen  under  sentence  of  death;  and  he  was  again  under  the. 
same  predicament  when  the  Hig^hlanders  made  a  similar  jail-delivery 
in  1745.  He  was  too  sincere  a  Whig  to  embrace  liberation  at  the  hands 
of  the  Jacobites,  and  in  reward  was  made  one  of  the  keepers  of  the 
tolbooith.     So  at  least  runs  a  constant  tradition. 


GLOSSARY 
OF 


WORDS,   PHRASES,  AND  ALLUSIONS. 


ABUNE.   ABOON.  aboTe 

ACQUEXT,    aoquaJnte.i 

AD  AVISA^DUM,  reserved 
for  consideration 

ADJOURNAL.,  BOOKS  OF 
See  'Books  of  Adjournal 

ADMrNIC,L.E,  a  eollateraj 
proof 

AGAIN,  in  time  £or.  be- 
fore 

AIN,  own 

AIR,   early 

AIRD'S  'MOSS,  the  s.ene 
of  a  skirmish  in  Ayr- 
shire, on  20th  July  1680 

AIRN,   iron 

AIRT,  to  direct,  point  out 
the   way 

AITH,   oath 

AITS,    oats 

AX.LENARLT.   solely 

A-LOW,   on  lire 

ALTRINGHAM,  THE 

MAYOR  OF  (p.  439).  a 
well-known  Cheshire  pro- 
verb 

AiMAIST,    almost 

ANCE,   ANES.   once 

ANDRO  PERRARA.  a 
Highland  broadsword 

AlNKER,  10  wine  gallons 

AN'SARS,  helpers;  particu- 
larly those  inhabitants 
of  Medina  who  he  ped 
Moha'mmel  when  he  Hed 
from  Mecca 

ANTI-JACOBIN,  George 
Canning,  the  statesman, 
in  whose  burlesque  play. 
The  Rovers;  or.  Double 
Arrangement,  printed  in 
The  Anti-Jacobin,  the 
ghost  of  P*rologue's,  not 
the  Author's,  gr.xnL;- 
raother  appears 

AQUA  MIRABIUS,  the 
wonderful  water,  a  cor- 
dial made  of  spirits  of 
wine  and  spices 

ARGYLE,  EiARL  OF,  HIS 
ATTEMPT  OP  1686.  his 
rising    in    Scotland     in 


suport  of  Monmouth  in 
1685 

AKNISTON  CHIlilJ).  Rob- 
ert Dundas  of  Arniston, 
the  elder,  succeeded 
Duncan  Forbes  of  Cullo- 
den  as  Lord  President  in 
1748 

lVRRIAGE  AND  CAR- 
RIAGE, a  phrase  in  old 
Scotch  leases,  but  bear- 
ing no  precise  meaning 

ASSEMWL.Y  OF  DIVINES, 
the  Westminster  Confes- 
sion of  Faith,  which. 
with  the  Longer  and 
Shorter  Catechisms,  con- 
stitute the  standanis  of 
doctrine  of  the  Presby- 
terians 

ARTES  P'ERDITAE,  lost 
arts 

AUGHT,  eight;  AUGHTY- 
NINB,    the   year   1689 

AUGHT,   p\jssesBiOn 

AULD,  old;  AULD  SOR- 
ROW, old  wretch 

AVA,   at  all 

AVVMOUS,    alms 

AW'MRIE,     the    cupboard 


BACK-CAST,  a  reverse, 
misfortune 

•BACK-FRIEND,  a  .sup- 
porter,   abettor 

BALFOUR'S  PRAC- 

TIQUES;  OR  A  SYSTEM 
OF  THE  MORE  AN- 
CIENT LAW  O'F  SCOT- 
LAND 11754).  by  Sir 
James  Balfour,  Presi- 
dent of  the  Court  of  Ses- 
sion in  1567 

BAND,   bond 

BARK,  BAWTTB.  Compare 
Sir  D.  Lindsay's  Com- 
playnt  of  Bagsche  .  .  . 
to  Bawtie,  the  King's 
Best  Belovit  Dog 

BARKENED,   tanned 

BARON         BAILIE,         the 

baxon's     deputy     in     a 
547 


burgh  of  barony 

'liArHER,  to  latlgue  by 
ceaseless  prating 

BAiULD,   brave,    hardy 

BAUSON-FACED,  having 
a  white  spot  on  the  lo.»- 
head 

B'AWBEB,  a  halfpenny 

BAXTER,   a  baker 

BEAN-HOOL,  beau-hull, 
pod 

BEOHOUNCHBD,  be- 

flounced.    decked    out    in 
ridiculous  fashion 

BEDRAL.    beadle,   sexton 
BEDREDDIN  HASSAN. 

See  Arabian  Nights: 
'Noureddin  and  his 
Son' 
BEEVER,  Belvoir,  the  seat 
of  the  Duke  of  Rutland, 
on  the  border  of  Leices- 
tershire 

BELYVE,   directly 

BEND-LEATHER,  thick 
sole-leather 

BENEFIT  OF  CLERGY, 
the  right  to  claim,  like 
the  clergy,  exemption 
£j«m  the  civil  courts 

BEN  THE  HOUSE,  in- 
side, into  the  inner 
room 

BESS  OP  BEDL.\)M,  a  fe- 
male lunatic. 

BESTIAL,   horned  catJe. 

BICKEiR,  a  wooden  ves- 
sel. 

BIDE,  wait,  stay;  bear, 
rest  under;  BIDE  A 
WEE,   wait  a  hiinuto. 

BIEN,    comfortable 

BIGOONETS.  a  lady's 
headdress 

BIKE,   a  hive,   swarm 

BINK,   a  wall   plate-rack 

BIRKIE,  a  lively  fellow," 
young  spark 

BIRTHNIGHT,  the  court 
festival  held  on  the 
evening  ol  a  roval 
blrttidar 


548 


WA  VERLET  NO  VELS 


BITTOCK.  .1  little  bit, 
proverbially  a  consider- 
able distance 

BLACK,  DR.  DAVID,  a 
zealous  Scottish  Presby- 
terian in  the  reign  of 
James  VI. 

BL.AIR.  ROBERT,  a  prom- 
inent Presbyterian  min- 
ister, of  Bangor  in  Irc- 
lana 

'BLINK,    a  glance 

r.LUE  PLiU.MS,   bullets 

BLiUIDY  MACKENZIE, 

Sir  George,  Lord  Advo- 
c«.te,  and  an  active 
prosecutor  of  the  Cam- 
eronians  in  the  reign 
of  Charles   II. 

BOODLE,  1-6  of  a  penny 

BOBIE,  the  lowest  schol- 
ar on  the  form,   a  dunce 

BOOK.S  OF  ADJiH'RN.i.L, 
containing  the  minutes 
and  orders,  especially  of 
adjoum.Tl,  ol'  the  Court 
of  Judiciary  of  Scotlam', 
it  being  a  peremptory 
court 

BOOT-HOSE,  coarse  blue 
■worsted  hose  worn  in 
place  of  boots 

BOUKIXG-WASHI'.NG,  the 
annual  washing  of  the 
family  linen  in  a.  pecu- 
lar   ley    (bouk) 

BOUNTITH,    a    perquisite 

BOUROCK,  a  mound,  hil- 
lock 

BOW,   a  boll   (measure) 

BOW-HEAD,  leading 

from  the  High  Street  to 
the  Grassmarket  in 
Edinburgh 

BOWIE,    a  milk^pail 

BRA'W.  orave,  fine,  good; 
BRAWS,   fine  clothes 

BRECHAM,  collar  of  a 
oant-horse 

BROCKIT  (COW).  With  a 
speckled  face 

BROOrE,  a  highland 
shoe 

BROO,  taste  tor,  opinion 
of 

BROSE,  oatmeal  over 
wbich  boiling  water  has 
been  poured 

eRUCE,  ROBERT,  of  Ed- 
innurgh,  a  champion  of 
spiritual  authority  in 
the  reign  of  James  VI. 

BRUGH  AND  LAND,  town 
and  country 

BRUILaiE,  a  scuffle,  tu- 
mult 

BRUNSTANE,  brimstone, 
sulphur 

BUOKHOLMSUDE,  a  vil- 
lage of  Roxburgshire 
close    to   Galashiels 

BULLER,    to    bellow 

BULL  OF  PHAUARIS,  nn 
invention  for  roasting 
people  alive,  devised  by 
Phalaris,  ruler  of  Agri- 
gentum  in  ancient  Sic- 
ily— so    tradition 

BULLiSEXJO,   a  gelded  bull 


BUSK,  to  dress  up,  ar- 
range 

BYE.    besides;   past 

iBYiRE,  cow-house,  cow- 
shed 


CX' .  to  call 

CAKSAREAN  PROCESS,  a 
surgical  operation  to  se- 
cure delivery  (as  in  the 
case  of   Caesar) 

CAG,    a   small   cask 

C.^IRD,    a  strolling  tinker 

OALEND.-^'R  WANTING 
AN   EYE 

See  Arabian  Nights: 
•Story  of  the  First  Cal- 
endar' 

CALLANT,    a   lad 

CALLER,     fresh 

CALLIVER-MBN,  men 

armed    with    muskets 

CA.MBRIAN  ANTIQUARY, 
Thomas  Pennant,  the 
traveller 

CA.MPVERE  SKIPPER,  a 
trader  to  Holland,  Comp- 
vere  or  Camphire,  on  the 
Island  of  Walcheren, 
was  the  seat  of  a  privt- 
lo  ;c'l  Scottish  tr.oiint, 
fac'torv  from  1444  to 
1795 

C.\NNY,  propitious,  aus- 
picous 

OAXTY,   mirthful.  Jolly 

CAPTION,  a  writ  to  im- 
prison a   debto"" 

CARCAKE,  or  CARB- 
OiVKE,  a  small  cake 
baked  with  eggs  and 
eaten  on  Shrove  Tuesday 
in    Scotland 

CARLE,    a   fellow 

CARLINE,  a  belda'm.  old 
woman 

CAROLINE  PARK.  Se« 
Roystoun 

CARRIED,  ;he  mind  wav- 
ering, wandering 

CARRITOH,  the  Cate- 
chism 

CAST,  lot  fate;  a  throw; 
a  lift,   ride 

CAST-BYE,    a   castawav 

CA' -THROW,  an  ado,  a 
row 

CATO'S  DAUGHTER,  Por- 
cia,  wife  of  Brutus,  who 
stabbed  Caesar 

C.\TO  THE  CENSOR,  the 
celabrated  Roman,  wrote 
a  book  about  rural  af- 
fairs 

CAULD,    cold 

CAULDRlPK,    chillv 

CAUTELOUS,  cautious, 
careful 

CELA  ETOIT  AUTRE- 
FOIS, etc.  (p.  53S),  it 
used  to  be  so,  but  we 
have  changed  all  that 
now 

CESSIO  BONORU-M.  sur- 
render of  effects 

CHAFTS,   jaws 

CHALDEHS,  an  old  dry 
measure — nearly  16  qrs. 
of  com 


CHAMBER  OP  DRAS,  the 
l>Ssl  bedroom 

CH.A.XfK-Ml^DLEY.  an 

undesignad  occurrenca 
not   purely  accidental 

CHANOB- HOUSE,  a  small 
inn 

CHAPPIT,  struck  (of  a 
cloeK) 

OHAPIT  BACK,  beaten, 
deterred,    daunted 

CHEVERONS.    gloves 

CHIELD,   a  young  fellow 

CHOP,  a  sho" 

CLACHAN,  a  Highland 
hamlet 

CLAISB,  CLAES, 

CLAITHS,    clothes 

CLARISSIMUS  ICTUS, 

one  who  is  a  famous 
lawyer 

CLiAT,   a  hoard  of  money 

CLAVBRS,    foolish   gossip 

CLiAW  UP  M'lTTBNS.  to 
rebuke  severely,  tell 
home  truths 

CLBOKIT,    hatched 

CLiBEK,   to  catch,   seize 

CLBUGH,   a  ravine 

CLOSE-HEAD,  the  en- 
trance of  a  blind  alley, 
a  favorite  rendezvous  for 
gossips 

CLUBBED  (of  hair),  gath- 
ered into  a  club-shaped 
knot  at  the  back  of  the 
head 

OLUTB,  a  hoof,  single 
beast 

COCCEIAN,  a  follower  of 
John  Cocceius  of  Leyden 
(d.  1669),  who  held  that 
the  Old  Testament 
shadowed  forth  the  his- 
tory of  the  ChristiaB 
Church 

COCKERiNONIE,  a  lady's 
topknot 

COD,    a  .pillow,    cushion 

COGNOSCE,  to  examine 
judicially   for   insanity 

OOLU-MELLA,  a  Roman 
writer  on  agriculture  and 
similar  topics 

CO.M.ME'NTARIES  ON 

SCOTTISH  ORr.MI.N.AL 
JURISPRUDE.NCE,  1797. 
by  David  Hume,  Baron 
of  the  Exchequer  in  Scot- 
land 

CO.VIUS,   by  Milton 

CONDESCENDENCE,  an 
enumeration  of  particu- 
lars,   a   Scots    law   term 

CONFESSIO  EXTRAJU- 
DICIALIS,  etc.  (p.  242). 
an  unofficial  confession 
is  a  nullity,  and  cannot 
be  quoted    In   evidence 

COUCH  A  HOGSHEAD, 
to    lie   down    to    .sleep 

COUP,  to  overturn;  to 
barter 

COUTHY,  agreeable, 

pleasing 

COWLEY'S  COMPLAINT, 
his  poem  with  that  ti- 
tle,   stanza   4 


k^LOSSARY 


549 


COWT.    a   colt 

CRACK,     gossip,     talk 

CRAFT,  a  croft,  small 
farm 

CRAIGMILLAR.  a  cai-tle 
near  Edinburgh,  a  resi- 
dence   of    Queen    Mary 

CREAGH,  stolen  cattle; 
a    foray 

CREPE,    to    curl,    crimo 

CREWELS.  CRUBLS. 

scrofulous  swellings  on 
the    neck 

CRIFFEL.  a  mountain  on 
the  Scottish  side  of  the 
Solway.  When  Skiddaw 
is  capped  with  clouds, 
rain  falls  soon  alter  01 
Crlffel 

CRINING,    pining 

lOROOK  A  HOCGH.  to 
bend  a  joint,  especially 
the    knee-joint 

CRUPPEN.    cri'pt 

CUFFIN'.  QUEiCR,  a  jus- 
tice  of   peace 

CUIVIS  EX  POPULO, 
one   of   the   people 

CULL,    a   fool 

CUMMER.  a  comrade, 
gossip 

CUMRAYS.  or  CUM- 
BRAES.  in  the  Firtii  .  f 
Clyde 

CURCH.     a    woman's    cap 

CU'ROSS,  Culross.  a  vil- 
lage on  the  Firth  of 
Forth 

CURPEL,    crupper 

CUTTER'S  LAW,  thieves' 
rogues'     law 

CUTTY  QUEAN,  a  worth- 
less young   woman 

DAFFING,  frolicsome 

jesting 

DAFT,  crazy,  beside  one- 
self 

DAIDLING.  trifling;  loi- 
tering 

DAIKER.  to  saunter,  jo? 
along 

DALKEITH,  one  of  the 
seats  of  the  Duke  of 
Buccleuch 

DALLAS  ON  STILE' : 
OR,  SYSTEM  OF 

STILES  AS  NOW 

PRATTICABLEI  WITH- 
IN THE  KIXGnOM  O  ■' 
SCOTLAND.  1697.  bv 
George  Dallas,  some- 
time deputy-keeper 
the  privy  seal  of  Scot- 
land 

DARG.    a    dar's   work 

DEAS.  CHAMBER  OF, 
the    best    bedroom 

DEAVE.     to    deafen 

DEBITO  TEMPORE.  at 
the    proper   time 

DE  DTE  IN  DIEM,  from 
day  to  day 

DEEVIL'S  BUCKIE,  a 
limb   of   Satan 

DETL  HAET,  the  devil  a 
bit 


DEMENS.  QUI  NIMBOS. 
etc.  (p.  1),  the  mad- 
man, who  sought  to  ri- 
val the  rainclouds  and 
the  inimitable  thunder, 
with  brazen  din  and  the 
tread  of  horny-houled 
steeds 

DEMI-PIQUE  SADDLE, 

one  with  low  peaks  or 
points 

DING,    to   knock 

DIN.VLE,  a  thrilling 
blow 

DIUL.   a  thrilling  Iniork 

DIT.  to  stop,,  close  up 
(the    mouth) 

DITTAY,    indictment 

DIVOT,  a  thin  flat  turf; 
DIVOT-CAST,  a  turf- 
PU 

DOCH  AN'  DORROCH.  a 
stirrup-cup,  parting- 

cup 

DOER,    an    agent,    factor 

DO'ITED,  stupid,  con- 
fused 

DOXNARD,     stupid 

DONNOT.  or  DONAUGHT. 
a  good-for-nothing  per- 
son 

DOO,     a    dove 

DOOKIT,     ducked 

DOOMS,    utterly 

DOOR-CHEEK,  the  floor- 
post 

DOUBLE  CARRITCH.  the 
Larger  Catechism  of  the 
Church   of   Scotland 

DOUCE,  quiet,  resprct- 
able 

DOUGHT,    was   able    to 

DOUR,  stubborn,  obsti- 
nate 

DOW.  to  be  able;  DOW- 
NA.    do    not    like    to 

DREICH.      slow.      leisurely 

DROW.    a    qualm 

DRY  MULTURE,  a  duty 
of  corn   paid   to  a  miller 

DUDS.  ragged  clothes; 
DUDDY.     ragged 

DULCIS  AMARYLLini=? 
IRAE.  the  anger  of 
Kentle    woman 

DUNCH.    to    jog    or    punch 

DUNE  GRANDE  DAM'^. 
of  a  great  lady,  lady  of 
fashion 

DUNLOP  (CHEESE),  in 
Ayrshire 

DTTRK.  or  DIRK,  a  High- 
lander's dagger 

DYESTER,    a  dyer 

■ECLATRriSSEMENT,  an 
explan.Uion 

EDICT  NAUTAE,  etc.,  in 
ancient  Rome,  imposed 
thoughtless  person 
liability  for  loss  or  dam- 
age to  property  commit- 
ted to  carriers,  innkeep- 
ers,  and  stable-keepers 

EE.    eve;   EEN.   eves 

EFFECTUAL  CALLING. 
See  The  Shorter  Cata- 
chicm,   Qu.   SI 


EPFEIR  OP.  equivalent 
to 

EIK.    to   add 

ELSHIN.   an  awl 

CME,    uncle 

EMERY,  JOHN.  aotor 
who  excelled  in  rustic 
parts,  and  played  Dan- 
die  Dinmont.  Ratcliffe, 
and  similar  characters  of 
Sciitt's  novels 

ENBUCH,  E  N  E  U  a  H. 
EXOW.    enough 

ENLEVEMENT,  the  ab- 
'iuction   of  the   heroine 

ETHWALD,  one  of  Joanna 
B.iillie's  Plays  on  the 
Passions,  this  one  turn- 
ing on  Ambition.  The 
passage  is  from  Part  I. 
Act   ill.    Sc.    5 

EXAUCTORATE.  to  dis- 
miss   from    service 

EX  JURE  SANGUINIS, 
by   blood,    heredity 


FAMA  CLAMOSA,  notori- 
ety 

FARINACEUS,  or  FARIN- 
ACIUS,  Prosper  Farinae- 
ci,  a  celebrated  Roman 
writer  on  criminal  juris- 
prudence,   lived   1544-1611 

FASH,  trouble;  to  trou- 
ble; FASHIOUS,  trou- 
blesome 

FASHERIE,   trouble 

FATHERS  CONSCRIPT, 
ihe  senators  of  ancient 
Rome;  here  the  chosen 
fathers  (of  the  town) 

F  A  T  U  U  S.  FURIOSUS. 
NATURALITER 
IDIOTA,  foolish,  mad, 
born   idiot 

FAULD,    to  fold 

FAUSE  MOXTEATH,  the 
reputed  betrayer  of 
Wal  lace 

FAUT.   fault 

FECKLESS,  insignlflca-nt, 
feeble 

FEND,    to  provide 

FERGUSON,  or  FERGUS- 
SON.  ROBERT.  Scot- 
tish poet,  born  1750,  died 
1774 

FILE,   to  foul,  disorder 

FIT,    foot 

FLATS  AND  SHARPS, 
sword,    using    the    sword 

FLEE,  a  flv 

KI.EG,    a    fright 

FT.TSKMAHOY.  a  giddy, 
thoughtless    person 

FLOW-MOSS,    a    morass 
See    Note    9    to    Bride    of 
Lammermoor 

FORANEXT,  directly  op- 
pnsite  to 

FORBEAR,    firefather 

FORBES,  DUNCAN,  ap- 
of  the  Court  of  Session 
pointed  Lord  President 
in  1737.  See  footnote, 
r.   40.? 

FORBYE,    besides 


650 


WAVERLET  NOVELS 


FORE-HAMMER,  aledge- 
hamnier 

FORGATHER,  to  come 
together,  become  in- 
timate 

FORPIT.    V4th  of  a  peck 

FOU,    full,   drunk 
correctly         F  I  g  g  a  t  e 
AVhlns,    a    trao     ol    sand 
hillocks  and  \tfiln   bush- 
es     between      if'ortobello 

FRIGATE  WHINS,  more 
inrt   Lfith 

FUGIT,  etc.   (p.  ItJS),  time 

GAJr-MlLJ<:s     g-wl-milk 

GAITTS,  or  GYTES,  or 
GETTS,  brats,  urchins 
Pilgrim's   Progress 

GALLIO.     See   Acts  xviil. 

GAIUS  (L  I  N  OO  L.  N- 
SHIRE).  the  Host  in 
12-27 

GAME  ARM,  a  crooked, 
lame   arm 

GANG,    to   go 
gardez    I'eau,    an    Edin- 
burgh    cry     when     dirty 
water  was  thrown  out  a 

GARE-BRAINED,  giddy, 
thoughtless 

GATE,  GAIT,  Way,  direc- 
tion, minnej?}  NAE 
GATE,   nowhere 

GAUN,   going 

GAUN  PLEAS,  ponding 
lawsuits 

GAUNT,    to  yawn 

GAWSIE,    grand,    fine 

GAY  SURE,  pretty  sure; 
GAY  AND  WELL,  pret- 
ty well 

GEE,  TO  TAKB  THE,  to 
take    the   pet,    <!arn   pet- 

GEAR,    property 

GlE,    give;   GIEN,    given 

GIF-GAF,    mutual   giving 

GILPY,  GILPIE,  a  lively 
young  girl 

GIRDLE,  a  circular  Iron 
plate  for  baking  scones, 
cakes 

GIRN,    to   grin,    grimace 

GLAIKS,   TO  FLING  THE, 

OARDYLOO,  from  French 
IN  ONE'S  EEN,  to  de- 
is  flying  beyond  recall 

FYKE,    to   move  restlessly 
In   the   same  place 
window 

GLBDE,    GLED,   the  kite 

GLE  'G,  active,  keen ; 
GLEG  AS  A  GLED, 
hungry   as   a   hawk 

GLIFF,  an  instant 

GLIM,  a  light,  hence  any- 
thing at  all 

GLOWER,    to  stare  hard 

BORBALS,     a    suburb     on 

GORBALS,  a  suburb  on 
the  south  side  of  Glas- 
gow 

GOUSTY,    dreary,    haunted 

GOUTTE,   a  drop 

GOWAN,   a  dog  daisy 

GOWDEN,    golden 

90WPBN,  a  double  hand- 
*ul    of    meal,     the    per- 


quisite    of     9      miller's 

servant 
GRAITH,       apparatus      of 

any  kind,   harness 
GRANTHAM     GRUEL,     a 

Lincolnshire         proverb, 

ridiculing    exaggerations 

of  speech 
GRAT,    wept 
GREE,   to  agree 
GREE,    pre-eminence 
GHEICSHOCH.    a   turf    fire 

without    flame,     smculd- 

ering  embers 
GREET,   to  cry,  weep 
GREY-PEARD.    or  GREY- 
BEARD,  a  stone  jug  tor 

holding  a'.e  or  liquor 
GUDEMAN,    the    husband, 

head  of  the  house 
GUDES'IRE.     grandfather 
GUDEWIFE,       the       wife, 

head  of   the    household 
GUIDE,    to    treat,    direct; 

GUIDING,    treatment 
GULLEY,    a   large    knife 
GUSBS    GRASS,    the    area 

of   grass   a   goose   grazes 

during    the   summer 
GUTTER-BLOOD,         one 

meanly  born 
GY'BE,  a  pass 
GYTB,       a      young      boy; 

CLEAN       GYTE,       quite 

crazy 

HADDEN,   held 

HADDO'S  HOLE,  a  por- 
tion of  the  n.ive  of  the 
ancient  collegiate 
church,  now  incorpor- 
ated with  St.  Giles' 
Cathedral,      Edinbulrgh. 

HAFPETS.    temples 

HAPFLINS.  young,  en- 
tering the  teens 

HAFT,  custody ;  to  es- 
tablish,   fix 

HAGBUTS  OP  FOUND, 
firearms  made  of  cast 
metal    (found) 

HALE,  or  HILL,  whole 
entire 

HALLAN.  a  partition  in 
a  Scotch  cottage 

HA^D-WALED,  remark- 
able,   notorious 

FOOTMAN,  RUNNING. 

HARLE.   to  trail,   drag 

HAUD,    hold 

HAVINGS,  behaviour, 

manners 

HAWKIT,  white-(faced, 

having  white  spots  or 
streaks 

HEAL,  healthy,  felicity; 
HBALSOME.     whotesome 

HELLICAT.  wild,  desper- 
ate 

HEMPIE.  a  rogue 

HERITORS,  the  landown- 
ers  in   a  Scotch   parish 

HERSE,   hoarse 

HERSHIP,  plundering  by 
armed   force 

HET,    hot 

HIGHLAND  HOST.  See 
HighlaTidmen      la      1677, 


In   glossary  to  Old  Uor- 

tality 

HINNY,  honey,  a  term  of 
affection 

HIRPUN',  limping 

HIT  (at  backgammon),  a 
game,  a  move  in  the 
game 

HOG,  a  sheep  older  than 
a  lamb  that  has'  not 
been  shorn 

HOLBORN  HILL  BACK- 
WARD, the  position  of 
criminals  on  their  way 
to   execution   at   Tyburn 

HOLLAND,  FENS  OF, 
the  southern  division  of 
Limcolnjshire,  adjoining 
the  Wash 

HOMOLOGATE,  to  ap- 
prove,   ratify,    sanction 

HOW,  a  hollow 

HOWDIE,   a  midwife 

HOWFF,  a  haunt 

HUSSY,  a  housewife  case, 
needlecas'e 


ILK,  ILKA,  each;  ILK, 
the  same  name;  ILKA- 
DAY,   every-day 

IMPOSTHUMES,  abscess- 
es,  collections  of  pu.s 

IN  BYE,   inside  the  house 

IN  COMMENDAM,  '') 
conjunction    with 

IN  CONPITBNIEM,  etc. 
(p.  242),  the  judge's 
function  ceases  when 
there  is  confession  of 
the   crime 

INGAN,    an   onion 

INGINB,    Ingenuity,  talent 

IN  HOC  STATU,  in  this 
case 

INIMICITIAM  CONTRA, 
etc.  (p.  264),  enmity 
against   all   mankind 

IN  INITIALIBUS,  to  be^ 
gin  with 

IN  LOCO  PARENTIS,  in 
place   of    the   parent 

TXPUT.    contribution 

I'Nr  RBM  VERSA-M,  charge- 
able  against  the   estate 

IXTE.R  APIOBS  JURIS,  oa 
high    points    of    law 

INTER  PARIETES,  withi.i 
doors 

INTER  RUSTICOS,  a  mere 
rustic 

INTONUIT  LAEVUM,  the 
thunder  is  heard  on  the 
left 

INTROMIT  WITH,  to  In- 
terfere with 

JAGG,   a  prick 
J  AIMER'S   PLACE    OP  REF- 
UGE,   in   1595 
JARK,    a   seal 
JAUD,    a  jade 
JINK,      a      dodge,      lively 

trick 
JO.  a  sweetheart 
JOW,    to  toll 

JUS  I>IVINUM,  divine 
right 


BX.OSSAjRT 


651 


KAILi,  «r  KAIiB,  eabba'g^, 

bToth     made     of    greens, 

dinner;  KAIL-WOU.M , 

c  a  t  e  r  p  1  1  lar;  KALE- 

YA'RD,  vegetable  garden 

KAIN,  or  CANE,  a  rent 
paid   in   Icind 

KAiMB,   to  comb 

KAYS  CARICATXTRBB,  la 
A  Series  of  Portraits  an  1 
Caricature  Etchings  of 
Old  Eldinburgh  charac- 
ters, by  John  Kay,  1837- 
aS;  new  ed.,  1877 

KEEJLYVINE,  a  lead  pen- 
cil 

KENSPECKUE3,     conaplcu- 

•us,  odd 
KILLING  TIME,  the  Cove- 
nanters' name  for  the 
period  of  Claverhouse's 
persecutions  in  the  West 
of   Scotland 

KITTLE,  ticklish,  slip- 
pery 

KNAVESHIP,  a  small  due 
in  meal  paid  to  the  un- 
der-miller 

KYE,    cows 

KYTH'E,  to  seem  or  ap- 
pear 

LAIKING,  sporting,  lark- 
ing 

LAMOUR,    amber 

LANDWARD,  inland, 
country-bred 

UVNIE,  alone;  THEIR 
LANE,  themselves 

LAUCH.    law 

L^VROCK,    a  lark 

LAWING,  the  account,  bill 

LAWYERS  FROM  HOL- 
LAND. Many  of  the 
Scottish  lawyers  and  doc- 
tors were  educated  at 
Leyden  and  Utrecht  in 
the  17th  and  18th  cen- 
turies 

IjAY,  on  THE,  on  the 
lookout 

LEAP,  LAURENCE. 
YOU'RE  LONG 

ENOUGH,  .^n  adaptation 
or  extension  of  the  pro- 
verbial Lazy  Lawrence  or 
Long  Lawrence 

LEASING-MAKING,  hig'h 
treason 

LEE,  a  lie 

LEICESTER  BEANS,  ex- 
tensively grown  in 
Leicestershire;  hence  the 
proverb.  'Shake  a  Leices- 
tershire man  by  the  col- 
lar, and  you  shall  hear 
the  beans  rattle  in  hid 
belly 
IjENXOX,  THE.  a  former 
county  of  Scotland,  em- 
bracing Dumbartonshirp 
and  parts  of  Stirling- 
shire, Perthshire,  and 
Renfrewsliire 
LBSE-IMAJBSTY,  treason 
LIFT,   the  sky 

L,IM*IE1R,  a  jade,  scoundnl 

UNOOLNSHIRE  GAIUS. 
Sea   GaIus 


LINN,  a  cascade,  waterfall 
UPPEN,    to     rely     upon, 

trust  to 
LIVINGSTONE,  JOHN,  an 
influential  Presbyterian 
during  the  Commuu- 
wealth,  minister  at 
Stranraer  and  Ancrum 

LIVINGSTO.NE,  JOHN, 
SAILOR  IN  BORROW- 
STOUNNESS.  See  Pat- 
rick Walker's  Life  of 
Peden.  p.    107 

LOCK,  the  perquisite  of  a 
servant  in  a  mill,  usu- 
ally a  handful  (lock)  or 
two  of  meal 

LOCKERMACHUS.  the  lo- 
cal pronunciation  in 
Scott's  day  of  Long- 
formacus,  a  village  in 
Berwickshire 

LOCKINGTON  WAKE,  a 
Leicestershire  yearly 
merrymaking  or  festival 

LOCO  TUTORIS,  in  the 
place  of  a  guardian 

LOOK,  the  palm  of  the 
hand 

LOOT,    let,    permitted 

LORD  OF  .SEAT,    a  judge 

LORD  OP  STATE,  a  noble- 
man 

LOU'ND,     quiet,    tranquil 

LOUNDBR,   to  thump,  beat 

LOW,    a   flame 

LOWE,  JOHN,  author  rf 
'Mary's  Dream,'  died 
1798.  See  biography  in 
Oromek,  Remains  of  Gal- 
loway  Song   (1810) 

LUCKIE.  a  title  given  to 
old    women 

LUCKJE  DAD,  grand- 
father 

LUG,    the   ear 

LUM.    a    Chimney 

LYING-DOG,  a  kind  of 
setter 

MACHEATH,     a    highway- 

iman.  the  hero  of  Gay's 
Beggar's  Opera 

MAGG  (COALS),  to  give 
short  quantity,  purloin- 
ing the   difference 

M.A.GGOT,   a   whim,  crochet 

MAGNA  EST  VERITAS, 
&c.  (p.  11).  truth  is 
great,   and  prevail  it  ■will 

MAII^,    to  stain 

MAIL-DUTIES,  rent; 

MAILING,  or  MAIL,  a 
farm  rent 

MAIR  BY  TOKEN,  espe- 
cially  as 

MAISTRY.    mastery,    power 

MAN-SWORN,    perjured 

MANTY,     mantle 

MANU...NOIN  BELLE.  &c. 
(p.  488),  it  is  not  becom- 
ing to  lift  one's  hand  in 
jest  and  over  the  wine. 
See   Catullus,    xil. 

MAFtlTORNES,  a  coarse 
serving  -  wench  whomi 
Don  Quixote  mistook  for 
a  lady  of  noble  birth 


M-UIK    OF   BEU/?RA-\nB. 

See   'Same  again,'    etc 
MASHACKERBD,   Clumsily 
cut,    hacked 

MA-iS  JOHN,   a  parson 

MATHGUS.  or  MAT- 
THABUS,  ANTON,  one 
of  a  family  of  cele- 
brated German  writers 
on  jurisprudence,  the 
'second'  Antom  profes- 
sor at  Utrecht  from  163S 
to    1654 

MAUKIN,   a  hare 

M.AUN,   must 

MAUNDER,  to  talk  Inco- 
herently,  nonsense 

MAUT,    malt 

MAW,    to  mow 
MEAL-ARK,     meal-chest 

MEAR,   a  mare 

MBLL,    to    meddle 

MEN  OF  MARSHAM,  etc., 
a  Lincolnshire  proverb, 
signifying  disunion  la 
the  cause  of  ill-success 

M  B  'N  S  EFU',  becoming, 
mannerly 

MiERK^:ls.     1  l-3d. 

MERSE,   Berwickshire 

MCSSAN.    a    lapdog,    cur 

M  E  X  I  CAN  MONARCH. 
Guateraozin,  the  .\ztec 
emperor  who.  when  put 
to  the  torture  by  Cortes, 
reproached  a  fellow- 
sufferer,  groaning  with 
anguish,  by  asking,  'Do 
you  think  then  I  am 
enjoying  my  bed  (lit. 
bath)   of   flowers?" 

MIDDEN,    a  dunghill 

MILE.  SCOTTISH,  about 
nine    furlongs 

MILLED,    robbed 

MIN'NI'E,    mamima 

.\1I.SCA',    to   abuse,    malign 

MISGUGGLE,    to   disflgure 

MISSET,  ■displeased,  out 
of    humour 

MISS   KATIES,    mosquitoes 

MISTER,    want 

MIXE.V,    a   dunghill 

MOB,    or   Mo,    more 

MIJ'XSON.  SIR  WILLIAM, 
admiral,  fought  against 
the  Spaniards  and  Dutch 
in  the  reigns  of  Eliza- 
beth and   James  I. 

MONTIi'ATH.  FAUSE.  the 
reputed  betrayer  if  Wal- 
lace  to  the  English 

MORISON'S  DECISIONS, 
with  fuller  title.  Decis- 
ions of  the  Court  of  Ses- 
sion    rBdinburgh] in 

the  form  of  a  Diction- 
ary, by  W.  M.  iMorison, 
40    vols.,     1801-11 

MOS.S-JHAG.  a  pit  In  a 
peat   moor 

MO'TTY,    full    of   motes 

'.MUCH  HAVE  I  FEA'R'D.' 
etc.  (p.  10).  from 
Crabbe's  Borough,   Letter 

MI'CKLE.    much 
MUIR-ILL,         a         dlseas* 
amungat   black    oattl* 


552 


WAVERLEY  IVOVELS! 


MUm  -  FOOTS,      y  (>  u  n  S 

gi'ouse 
MULL,    a  snuff-box 
ULLTUUE,       DRY.         See 

Dry    Multure 
MUTCH,   a  woman's  cap 
MUTCHKLV,   a  liquid  mea- 

«ur«,    containing    \  ipint 

VAUTAE.  CAUPONES,  &c. 
See   'Edict   Nautae 

KKGBR,   nigger 

NEiMO  ME  IMPUNE  LA- 
OESSIT,  no  one  wounds 
me  with  impunity — tlie 
motto  that  accompanies 
the  thistle,  the  badge  of 
the   crown   of    Scotland 

^riCK  MOLL  BLOOD,  to 
cheat   the   gallows 

NIFPERIXG,  haggling: 
NIFPER,  en  exchange; 
PUT  HIS  LIFE  IN  A 
NIFFER.  put  his  life  at 
stake,    in   jeopardy 

^JIHIL  INTEREST  DS 
POSSDSSIOXB.  the  ques- 
tion of  posses  don  is  im- 
material 
NOITEaD,  rapped,  struck 
smartly 

NON  CONSTAT,  It  is  not 
certain 

NOiN  CUIVIS,  etc.  (p.  44), 
it  is  not  every  one  that 
can  gain  admittance  to 
the  (select)  society  of 
Corinth 

NOOP,  the  bone  at  the 
elbow-joint 

NOR'  LOCH,  e  swamp  in 
Edinburgh,  now  Princes 
Street   Gardens 

NOWTB,   cattla 

OB,    a   grrandchlia 

ONGOING,  a  heavy  fall  (of 
snow) 

OPTAT  (BPHIPPlA.etc.  (p, 
45),  the  sluggish  ex 
wishes  for  the  horse's 
trappings 

ORDINAR,  AFTER  HER, 
as  is  usual   with  her 

ORMOND,  James  Butler 
first  Duke  of,  was  tor 
seven  years  in  disfavour 
through  the  intrigues  of 
enemies 

ORREJRY.  r.  mechanism 
representing  tthe  motions 
of   the    planets 

OUT-BYE,  out  of  doors; 
beyond,    without 

OXJTGATE,  ostentatious 

display 

DUTSIGHT  AiND  INSIGHT 
PLE5NISHING.  goods  be- 
longing to  the  outside 
and  inside  of  the  house 
respectively 

OWBR-BYE.    over   the  way 

OWRBLAY.    a   cravat 

PADDER,  a  highwayman; 
ON  THE  PAD,  a  hish- 
waymam  on  the  look-o'it 
for  victims 

PAIK.    a   blow 

PAIP,   the  Pope 


PAITRICK,   a  partridge 

PALMER,  JOil.N',  of  iiath, 
greatly  Improved  the 
mail-coaches  in  the  end 
of  the  ISth  century 

PAKOCHl.VE.    parish 

PARSONAGE,  a  contribu- 
tion for  the  support  of 
a  parson 

PAR  VOIH  DU  FAIT,  by 
assault,   act  of  violence 

PASSEMENTS,  gold,  sil- 
ver, or  silk  lace;  PASSE- 
MENTED,     laced 

PAUVRB  HONTEUX,  poor 
and   humble-minded  iman 

PAVE,    the    road,    highway 

PEARLIN-LACK,  bone 

lace,    made   of   thread    or 
silk 

PEAT,  PROUD,  a  person 
of   intolerable   pride 

PEAT-HAG,  a  pit  in  a 
peat  moor 

PDDEN,  ALEXANDER,  a 
celebrated  Covenanting 
leader.  See  Old  Mortal- 
ity. Note  38 
FEEBLE,  to  pelt  with 
stones 

PEN-GUN,  CRACKING 

LIKE  A,   gabbling  like  a 
penguin 

HaNNANT,  THOMAS,  a 
keenly  observant  natu- 
ralist and  traveller  of 
the   ISth   century 

PDNNBCUICK,  ALEXAN- 
DER, M.  D.,  of  Newhall, 
near  Edinburgh,  author 
of  Historical  Account  of 
the  Blue  Blanket;  died 
in   1722 

PHNNY,  SCOTS— l-12th  of 
a  penny  English 

PIE.N>:ySTANE,  a  stone 
quoit 

piDNNY  WEDDING,  one  at 
which  the  expenses  are 
met  by  the  guests'  con- 
tributions. See  Biirt's 
Letters  from  the  North 
of  Scotland,   Letter  xi. 

PE.XTLAXD.  or  RULLir^N 
GREEN,  where  Dalziel 
routed  the  Galloway 
Whigs    in    1666 

PEREGRIXIB  (BEiRTPE), 
LORD  WILLOUGHBY, 
one  of  Elizabeth's  cap- 
tains. The  lines  quoted 
are  from  "The  Brave 
Lord  Willoughby'  in 
Percy's    Reliques 

PERFERVIDUM,  etc.  (p. 
12),  the  fiery  nature  of 
the  Scots 
P\7Al  VIGILIAS  ET  IN- 
SIDIAS,  by  snares  and 
ambush 

RE.SSIMI  EXEMPLI,  the 
worst  of  precedents,  ex- 
amples 

PETTLE,  to  indulge,  pam- 
per 

PIBROCH,  a  bagpipe  tun?, 
usually  for  the  gather- 
ins   O^   B'   c'^i^ 


FICKLE  TN  THINE  AT.S' 
POi^ENUOK,  depend  on 
thy    own   exertions 

PICQUEERINGS,  bi«ker- 
ings,    disputes 

PICTURESQUE.      See  Pri':;e 

PIGG,  an  earthenware  ves- 
sel,   pitcher 

PIKE,    to   pick 

PILLION  MAIL,  baggage 
carried   on    a   pillion 

PliRlN,    a   reel 

'^IT,   put 

PITCAIRN,  DR.,  a  well- 
known  Edinburgh  physi- 
cian, died  in  171S.  who 
showed  skill  in  writing 
Latin   verse 

PLACED  .MINISTER,  one 
holding  an  ecclesiastical 
chargj 

PLAC5K,  one-third  of  a 
penny 

PLAGUE,  trouble,  annoy- 
ance 

PL.ANKED  A  CHURY, 
concealed    a   knife 

PLBASAUNTS,  or  PL0A- 
SANOE,  a  part  of  Edin- 
burgh between  the  Cow- 
gate  and  Salisbury  Crags 

PLENISHING,    furniture 

PLOUGH-GATE,  as  much 
land  as  can  be  tilled 
by   one    plough 

PLOY,  a  spree,   game 

POCK,    a    poke,    bag 

POCOCURANTE,  an  easy- 
going,   indifferent   person 

P  O  B  N  A  ORDINARIA, 
usual    punishment 

POET  OF  GRASMBRE, 
Wordsworth 

POFFLE,  a  small  farm, 
piece  of   land 

POINT  DE'VTSE,  In  or 
with  the  greatest  ex- 
actitude,   propriety 

POLLRUMIPTIOUS,  un- 

ruly,   restive 

PONTAGES,    bridge-tolls 

POORFU',    powerful 

POPPLING,  purling,  rip- 
pling 

POQUELIN,  the  real 
name    of    Moliere 

PORTEOUiS  MOB.  The 
actual  order  of  events 
was — Robertson's  escape, 
11th  April,  1736;  Wil- 
'9on's  cxecujtion.  14ith 
April;  Queen's  pardon 
far  IPorteouB  reaahed 
Edinburgh  2d  Septem-' 
bcr;  riot  took  place  Tth 
September;  Porteous's 

execution    was    fixed    for 
Sth    September 

POW,    the  head 

PRIiOE?S  APPROPRIATE 
PHRASE,  PICTUR- 
BE^QUEJ— an  allusion  to 
Sir  Uvedale  Price'.s  E^- 
»ay  on  the  Picturesque, 
17M 


GLOSSARY 


663 


PRIG<J,   to  entreat,   beg  tor 
PROKITOK,     a    procuraUtr. 

solicitor 
PROPINE,    a   gift 
FUND    SCOTS— Is.    Sd. 
PURN,   a  burn,   stream 
PYKIT,    picked,    pilfered 

QUADRELLE  TABLE,  a 
ganie  at  cards,  not  un- 
like ombre  with  a  fourth 
player 

QUARRY  HOLES,  where 
duels  were  frequently 
fought  and  female 
xM-iminals  sometinves 

drowned,  at  the  foot  of 
Oalton  Hill,  not  far 
from  Holyrood  Palace, 
Edinburgh 

QUEAN,   a  young  woman 

QUBEfR  CUPFIN,  a  jus- 
tice of  peace 

a  U  B  B  R  ING,  quizzing, 
making    fun 

QUEER  THE  NOOSE, 
THE  STIPLER,  escape 
the  gaJlows 

QUBT,    a   young   cow 

QUILLBT,  a  quibble,  sub- 
tlety 

QUIVIS  EX  POiPULO,  any 
ordinary    citzen 

QUODAMMODO,  in  a 
manner,   certain   measure 

QUOS  DrUGIT  OASTE- 
GAT,  whom  He  loveth 
He  chasteneth 

QUOTHA,     forsooth 

RAI3DLE,     to    mob 

RANXHL-TRQES,  a  beam 
acroas  the  fireplace  for 
suspendine    a    pot    on 

RAPPING,  awearing  false- 
ly 

RARl  APPARENT  NAN- 
TES, etc.  (p.  4).  they 
appear  swimming,  wide- 
ly scattered,  in  the  vast 
deep 

RATT-RHYME,  doggerel 
verses,    repeated    by    role 

R.A.X.    to    stretch 

RQCKAN,  pining,  miser- 
able 

RED,    to   counsel,    advi?? 

H0DDING  UP,  clearing 
up 

REEK,    smoke 

REM  EDI  UM  M  I  S  E  R  A- 
EILliX  sad  remedy  for 
misfortune 

RE.NWICK.  MK.  JAM^S. 
the  last  of  the  'martyrs' 
of  the  Covenant,  exe- 
cuted at  Edinburgh  on 
17th   February,    1688 

RIDING  OP  PARLIA- 
MENT, the  prooession  of 
dignitaries  on  their  way 
to  open  a  new  session 

RIN,    to  run 

RINTHEaiEWUT,  a  house- 
less  vagrant 


RIPE,   to  search 

RIVE,    to  tear 

ROKliLAY,   a  short  cloak 

ROOMS,  portions  of  land, 
to  own  or  occupy 

ROaA  SOLIS,  a  cordial, 
formerly  in  great  repute, 
made  of  spirits  ilavor-;d 
with  cinnamon,  oran^'e- 
liower,  etc. 

ROUPIT,   hoarse 

ROVING,   raving 

ROUPIXG,  saliing  off,  auc- 
tioning 

ROWING,  rolling,  revolv- 
ing 

ROYSTOUN,  a  mansion  be- 
longing to  the  Duke  of 
Argyle  at  Cramond,  near 
Edinburgh;  it  stood  in 
Caroline  Park 

RUBBIT.   robbed 

RUB,  TAEN  THE,  re- 
pented   of 

RUFFTjER,  a  bullying 
beggar    or    thief 

Rl.N'.NING  FOOTMAN.  See 
Note  9  to  Bride  of  Lam- 
mermoor 

S  A  C  K  L  E  S  S,    innocent, 

guileless 

S.\IN,    to  bless 

ST.  NICHOLAS'S  CLERKS, 
high\fayraen 

5'AIR,    sore,    much 

sALMONBOUS,  a  mythical 
king  who,,  arrogant'.v 
imitating  Zeus,  was  slain 
by  hJ9  own  'fhunderboit. 
See   Demens,    etc. 

■SAME  AGAIN,  QUOTH 
MARK  OF  BEiI.,GRAVE,' 
a  Leicestershire  proverb. 
The  story  goes  that  a 
militia  officer,  exercising 
his  men  before  the  lord- 
lieutenant,  became  con- 
fused, and  continued  to 
order    'Tlie  same  again' 

SAiTvlEN,  THE  OLD,  the 
same    as   before 

^APK,    a  shirt 

SARK  FOOT,  the  lower 
po.'tioT  of  the  boundary 
stream  betiween  England 
and  Scotland 

SA35B\^.AOH.  Saxon,  that 
is.    English 

SACNT,    saint 

?AUT.    salt 

SCAITH,    SCATHI?.    harm 

5CART.    a    scratch 

3CLATE.    slate 

Sr-OMFISH,     to    suffocate 

SOOUPI.NG,    skipping 

SCOUR,    to  thrust   (a   knife) 

SORAUGIN',  screeching, 
screaming 

SCREED,    a    maes.    string 

SORIMGEOUR,  JOHN, min- 
ister of  Klnghorn,  re- 
al 5te<l  the  authority  of 
his  bishop  to  depose 
him,     in    162." 


SCUD,   a  sudden   shower 
SEflJ    TRANSEAT.     etc.     (p. 

218),   but  let  It  pass   with 

other  blunders 
SEdL,    to  site,    stra«i 
SHIP,    to   ooze 
BLLL    O'    YE,    yourwlt 
SET,    to   suit,    become 
SHANKIT,    handled 
SHOON,     shoes 
SIC,    SICCAN,    such 
SIGHT    FOR    SAIR    EEN,    a 

most   welcome    sight 
SlCrXBT,   WIUTEIR  TO.   Se« 

Writer 
SILLY     HEALTH,     poorly 
SIMMEnt.    summer 
?  I  N  D  E  RED,     separated, 

sundered 
SI.NDKY,    sundry,    different 
SINGLE     CARRXTCH,      the 

Shorter  Catechism  of   tha 

Church    of    .ScoUana 
SINGULI      IN       SOLir.UM, 

singly  responsible  for  "h« 

whole 
SIT   DOUN   WITH,    endure, 

take   quietly 
SKAITH,    harm.    Injury 
SKAJTHLBSS,      free      froa 

harm 
SKDBL,     skill,     knowledge; 

SKEDLY,    skilful,    know. 

ing 
SKELI',    to  slap,    beat 
SKIDDAW.     See  cnffel 
SKIN    A.VD    BIRN.    wholly, 

in    entirety 
SKIRL,    to   screech,   scream 
SKULDUDDERY.    breach  oj 

chastity,    indecency 
SLAKE,    a   smear 
SL0.4N.   abuse,   rating 
SMACKED  CALF-SKIN. 

kissed       the       Testament. 

taken   a   false   oath 
SNACK,    a   snatch    of    food 
taV-XP,     a    snack,     hurried 

meal 
SNAPPER,     stumble, 

scrape,     moral     error 
SiNOO     AND     SNOD,     neat 

and    tidy 
•SOMETHING      THERE 

WAS,'   etc.    (p.   102).   From 

(  rabbe's     The     Borough. 

Letter   xv. 
SONSY,       comfortable-look- 
ing,   plump 
SORTED,    looked   after,    at- 
tended   to 
SOUGH,     to    sigh;    a    sigb 

rumor 
SOUP,    a  sup 
SOUTHER,    to  solder 
SOWBNS.    a    sort    of    grue'. 

n-jade     from     the     soured 

siftings   of   oatmea! 
SPARING,     telling    fortune* 
SPEER.    to    inquire,    asii 
SPIEL,    'o   climb 
SPLEUOH.VN.     a    Hiekla»' 

'"bacco   Douck 


554 


WA  VERLE  Y  NO  VELS 


SPORRiAN.       a       Highland 
purse   of   goatskin 

b'PAJG,    an    unbroken    horse 

STAIR'S  IN'STITUTES,  Olt, 
INSTITUTIONS  OF  THli 
LAW  OP  SCOTLAND, 
by  James  Dalrymple, 
First  Viscount  Stair, 
President  of  the  Court  of 
Session,  1609-95,  a  cele- 
brated   Scotch   law-book 

STEC,    to   place,    fix 

STERN,    a    star 

STIRK,    a  steer 

STOIT,    to    stagger 

STOUP,  a  wooden  drinking 
vessel 

STOW,    to    crop,    cut   off 

STRAUGHTED,   stretched 

STREIGHT,    strait,    trouble. 

STURE.    rough,    hardy 

SUT  G.BNE:RIS,  of  its  own 
kind,    special 

SUM  MUM  DO'NTJM,  the 
chief,  good,  prime  con- 
sideration 

SUNKBTS,     victuals 

S'URFLiEET         ON  THE 

WASiH.  The  Three  Tuna 
Inn  on  the  marsh  (in- 
closed in  1777)  beside  the 
Welland  at  Surfleet  was 
a   resort   of   amugglers 

SWITHBR,  suspense,  hesi- 
tation 

SYND,   to  wash,  rinse 

SYNEJ,    since,    ago 

SYNE  AS  SUNE,  late  as 
soon 

TAILZIE,     entail 

TAIT,    a   lock    (of  wool) 

TAM  OARUM  OAPIIT,  a 
person   so   dear 

TAP,   a  top 

TAPE  OUT,  to  eke  out, 
make  a  little  go  a  long 
way 

TAP  IN  MY  UAP  (take  up) 
■my  baggage  and  be   oft 

TAWPIE,  an  awkward 
girl,   foolish  wench 

TAWSE.  a  strap  cut  into 
narrow  tliongs  for  whip- 
ping boys 

■ra:iND,    tithe 

■nEMPUS  NBMINI,  time 
(waits    for)    no   man 

TEJNDBR,  in  delicate 
health 

TBN-MARK  COURT,  for- 
mer Scotch  small  debt 
court  for  sums  not  ex- 
ceeding ten  raerksi  (lis. 
2d.)    and   servants'    wages 

TENT,     care;    TAK    TENT, 

to  take  care 
TH.\TOH  GROBY  POOL 
V/r  PANCAKES,  a  L,ei- 
i-estershire  proverb,  in- 
dicating an  impossible 
promise  or  undertaking 

1'HIRL.AGB,  the  obligutiou 
to   sri"*   '^o'l   at   a    cer- 


tain mill,  and  pay  cer- 
tain dues  for  it.s  niai]i- 
tenanoe,   etc. 

THOiLE,    to  suffer,    endure 

THRAWART,  THRAWN, 
crabbed,    Ul-tempered 

THRBSHIE-OOAT,  a  rough 
weather  coat 

THROUGH  OTHER,  con- 
fusedly,    all    together 

THUMKINS.  or  THUMBI- 
KINS,    tbe   thumb-screws 

TUfflT,    trim,    neat 

TINT,    lost 

TITTIE,  a  little  pet,  gen- 
erally   a    sister 

TOOHBR,    dowry 

TOD,     a    fox 

TOM  OF  L1INC0L.N,  the 
large  bell  of  Lincoln  Ca- 
thedral 

TONY  LUMPKIN,  a  coun- 
try clown  in  Goldsmith's 
She    Stoops   to   Conquer 

TOOM,  empty;  to  empty, 
pour 

TOUK,  TOOK,  tuck,  beat 
(of  a  drum) 

TO'W,   a   rope 

TOWN,  a  farm-house,  -B'ith 
the  outbuildings 

TOY,   a  woman's  cap 

TRAIK,    to  dangle   after 

TEE'VISS,  a  bar  or  parti- 
tion between  two  stalls 
in   a   stable 

TRINQUBT,  or  TRINKET, 
to  correspond  clandes^ 
tinely,    intrigue 

TRIP    TO    THE    JUBILEE, 
a  comedy   by  G.   Farquhar 
TROW,    to  believe 

TROWLING,    rolling 

TULLY,  Marcus  Tulliu3 
Cicero,  the  Roman  orator 
TURNPIKE  STAIR,  a 
winding  or  spiral  stair 
TUTOR  DATIVE,  a  guar- 
dian appointed  by  a 
court   or   magistrate 

TWAL,    twelve 

TWOMONT,  a  twelve- 
month,   year 

TYNE,  to  lose;  TYNB 
HEIART  TYNE  A',  to 
lose  heart  is  to  lose 
everything 

ULAa.     See  Dan.  viii.   2.   16 
ULTRONEOUS,     voluntary 
UNCANNY,         mischievous. 

not  safe 
UN(3HANCY,  dangerous, 

not  safe  to   meddle   with 
UNOO.    uncommon,  strange, 

serious 
UNSCYTHE3D       CAR,       the 
war-chariots    of    the    an- 
cient   Britons    and    Gauls 
bore     scythes     affixed     to 
their  wheels 
UPGANG,    ascent 
UPSIDES  Wr,   quits  with 
USQUEBAUGH,    whisky 


UT  PLCS  IN  SEFTIS.  etc. 
(p.  487),  as  a  flower 
springs  up  unseen  in  a 
walled  garden 

VALEAT  QUANTUM, 
whatever  it  may  be 
worth 

VICARAGE,  tithes 

VIVAT  REJX,  etc.  (p.  276), 
long  live  the  king,  let 
the  law  takes  its  course 


WA',  a  wall 

WAD,  a  pledge,  bet;  to 
wager,    bet 

W.-^D,    would 

WADSET,    a   mortgage 

WAE,  woe ;  sorry ;  WAE- 
SOME,    sorrowful,    sad 

WAPP.   whisk,  sudden  puff 

WAGGING,  dangling  by  a 
piece  of  skin 

WALE,   to  select,   choose 

WALLY-DRAIGLE,  a  poor 
weak  creature,   drone 

WAMPISHING.  brandish- 
ing,   flourishing 

WAN  OUT,   got  out 

WAN-THRIVEN,  in  a 
state  of  decline 

WARE,    to  spend 

WARSLE,  WARSTLE,  to 
wrestle 

WASTRIFE,  waste ; 
WASTER,   wasteful 

WAT  FINGER,  TO  BRING 
AFF  wr  A.  manag2  a 
thing  very  easily 

WATNA,    wot   not 

WAUPF.  B.  passing  glance, 
glimpse 

WAUR,   worse 

WEAN,  a  young  child,  in- 
fant 

WEBSTER,  a  weaver 

WEIRD,   destiny 

WELL-TO-PASS.  well-to- 
do 

WHAUP  IN  THE  RAPE, 
something  wrong  or  rot- 
ten 

WHEJEN,  a  few,  a  parcel 
of 

WHILES,    sometimes 

WHILLYWHA,  to  wheedle 

WHIRRYING,    hurrrying 

WHISTER-POOP,  a  bick- 
handed  blow 

WHISTLE  ON  HIS 
THUMB,  completely  dis- 
appointed 

■WHITTLE,  a  large  knife 

WHORN.  a  horn 

WIGHT,  WIGHT,  power- 
ful,  valiant 

WILLYARD.  wild,  wilful, 
nliptinate 

WIMPLE,  a  wile,  piece  ol 
craft,    wrinkle 

■WINNA.  will  not 

WOGC.ARWOLFE.  Sei 

E^hwald 

WOODIE,  the  halter 


GLOSSARY 


656 


WORRIECOW,  a  hobgoblin 

WORSET.  worsted 

WRITER  TO  THE  SIG- 
NEH",  a  class  of  Scottish 
law-agents,  enjoying  cer- 
tain privileges 

WUD,  mad,  violent 

WULli-CAT.    a  wild  cat 

WUN,  WON,  WIN,  to  win, 
get,  gain 

WUN  OWER  Wr,  to  deal 
with,  get  through  with 


WUSS,   to  wish 
WUZZENT.  wlzcne.l. 

ered 
WYND.    a    narrow    i 

or  cul-de-sac 
WTTE,  blame 


YEALD  (COW),  one  whose 
milk  has  dried  up; 
YEALD  BEASTS,   drapes 


TEALDON,   elding,   fuel 
YEARN,   to  cau-5e  to  coagu- 

laie,   make   (cheese) 
YERK,  to  bind  tightly 
Y'ERL,  an  earl 
YILL,  ale 
TILL-CAUP,       a      wooden 

drinking-Teoeel 


ZONS,  a  moaey-belt 


INDEX 


ixcHiBALD,  John,  352  ;  conducts  Jeanie 

Deans  from  Mrs.  Glass's,  360  :  Jeanie's 
description  of  hiin,  386  ;  consideration 
for  her  at  Carlisle,  396,  401,  404  ;  rows 
Jeanie  and  Mrs.  Duttou  home,  450 
Argyle,  John,  Duke  of,  his  retort  to 
Queen  Caroline,  05  ;  defence  of  the 
Porteous  riot,  240  ;  relations  with  the 
court,  349 ;  receives  Jeanie  in  audi- 
ence, 351  ;  takes  her  to  Richmond, 
361  ;  relations  with  Queen  Caroline, 
366 ;  interview  with  her,  367 ;  dis- 
cusses cheese  with  Jeanie,  37'.  ;  in 
Mrs.  Glass's  shop,  387  ;  his  wife  and 
daughters,  393  ;  his  letter  to  Jeanie, 
407  ;  praLses  Lady  Staunton,  470;  his 
death,  472  ;  anecdotes  of,  540 
Arthur's  Seat,  Author's  favorite  resort, 

67  ;  duels  on,  102 
"At  the  sight  of  DuMbarton,"  381 
Auchingower,  Jeanie's  home,  441 
Author's  Introduction,  ix  ;  and  Arthur's 
Seat,  67  ;  connection  with  Quakerism, 
xvii,  5'4'i 


Bailzou,  Annaple,  497,  499 

Balchristie,  Mrs.  Janet,  253 

Beersheba,  Butler's  croft,  68 

Bellum  Bellellum,  546 

Bess  Wynd,  35,  526 

Bible,  folding  a  leaf  of,  94 

Bickerton,  Mrs.,  of  York,  273,  277 

Bishops,  Scottish,  expulsion  of,  891,  541 

Bitem  politics.    See  Bubbleburgh 

Borrowing  days,  275,  541 

Bovet's  Pandoenioniuni,  quoted,  637 

Brownie,  252 

Bubbleburgh  and  Bitem  politics,  12, 15 

Buckholmside  cheese,  380,  641 

Butler,  David,  guides  Lady  Staunton, 
490  ;  gets  a  commission,  521 

Butler,  Mrs.,  Reuben's  grandmother, 
74  ;  her  pride  in  him,  81 

Butler,  Reuben,  corrects  Saddletree's 
Latin,  36  ;  his  discussions  with  Saddle- 
tree, 36,  40,  2M  ;  distress  at  Effle's 
misfortune,  43;  chaplain  to  the 
rioters,  48 ;  tries  to  save  Porteous,  60, 
62  ;  escapes  from  Edinburgh,  63  ;  his- 
tory of,  67 ;  early  associated  with 
Jeanie  Deans,  75 ;  licensed  as  a 
preacher,  81  ;  encounters  Robertson 
in  the  King'  ■.  Park,  103  ;  sympathetic 
visit  to  the  Deans  family,  108;  ap- 
prehended, 127 ;  examined  by  the 
bldli^.    129,    138;   doM   not  Identify 

657 


Madge  Wildfire,  159;  visited  by  Jeanla^ 
266  ;  gives  her  a  letter  to  Argyle,  270  ; 
Jeanie's  letters  to  him,  275,  386 ;  ap- 
pointed to  Knocktarlitie  church,  419  ; 
welcomes  Jeanie  home,  431  ;  his  ordi- 
nation, 445  ;  marriage  to  Jeanie  Deans, 
457  ;  behavior  towards  David  Deans, 
459;  plays  backgammon  with  Knock 
dunder,  462  ;  buys  Craigsture,  478  ; 
intercourse  with  Sir  G.  Staunton,  499 ; 
his  loyalty  to  the  Scottish  Kirk,  505  ; 
lands  at  Caird's  Cove,  509 ;  takes 
charge  of  Lady  Staunton's  aflf airs,  518 
Butler,  Stephen  or  "  Bible,"  67  ;  Lorn's 
testimony  to,  355 

Cairo's  Cove,  509 

Cameronians,  horror  of  dancing,  93,  536; 
belief  in  apparitions,  144,  51^ ;  sects 
of,  189  ;  meeting  at  Talla  Linns,  191, 
589 ;  attitude  to  government,  192 ; 
leader.s,  431  ;  shining  lights  of,  460 

Carlyle,  Dr.,  his  recollection  of  the  Por- 
teous  mob,  534 

Caroline,  Queen,  and  the  Porteous  riot, 
32,  64  ;  characteristics  of,  305 ;  inter- 
view with  Argyle,  367  ;  with  Jeanie 
Deans,  372  ;  her  gift  to  Jeanie,  377 

Carspharn  John,  85,  145,  535 

"  Cauld  is  my  bed.  Lord  Archibald,"  408 

Cheese,  Scotch,  379 

Child-murder  in  Scotland,  45,  119,  150, 
526 

City  Guard  of  Edinburgh,  22,  526  ;  dis- 
armed  by  Porteous  mob,  51 

Cleishbotham,  Jedediah,  his  preface, 
XV  ;  his  Envoy,  522 

Clyde,  river,  407 ;  beauties  of  firth,    412 

College  students  of  Edinburgh,  71 

Covenant,  and  the  government,  192 

Crabbe,  quoted,  10,  97,  358 

Crombie  v.  MacPhail,  266 

Crossmyloof,  Counsellor,  Saddletree's 
oracle,  36,  89,  118 


Dabby,  Mrs.  Deputy,  889 
Dalgleish.  Jock,  156,  538 
Dalton,  Mrs.,  Staunton's  housekeeper, 

323  ;  takes  charge  of  Jeanie,  342 
Damahoy,  Miss,  lament  over  the  Union, 

34,  37  ;  and  the  verdict  on  Effle,  232 
Dancing,  Cameronians'  horror  of,  9!i, 

536 
Deans,  David,  70  ;  his  worldly  success, 

78  ;    jealousy  of  Butler,  81 ;  removes 

to  St.  Leonard's  Crags,  86 ;  horror  of 


&;o 


INDEX 


dancing,  98 ;  distress  at  EfiSe's  dis- 
grace, 100  ;  reception  of  Butler  in  his 
distress,  108  ;  discussion  witli  Saddle 
tree,  115  ;  rejects  the  aid  of  council, 
120  ;  repudiates  Effie,  187  ;  bids  Jeauie 
follow  her  conscience,  195;  attends  at 
the  trial,  808  ;  swoons  in  court,  ZiO  ; 
taken  to  Mrs.  Saddletree's  211  ;  letter 
of  thanks  to  Jeanie,  390  ;  resolves  to 
leave  St.  Leonard's,  391 ;  welcomes 
Jeanie  at  Roseneath,  413  ;  appointed 
to  manage  the  Duke's  farm,  416  ;  visits 
Dumbiedikes,  430  ;  hears  of  Butler's 
preferment,  433 ;  on  the  ordination 
oath,  433 ;  his  future  home,  443  ;  his 
flrst-b(5rn  joke,  449 ;  liis  bickerings 
with  Butler,  459 ;  helps  rescue  the 
minister's  cows,  474  ;  dies,  475 

Deans,  Effie,  Mrs.  Saddletree'ssympathy 
for,  43  ;  urged  to  fly  from  the  prison, 
59 ;  description  of,  89 ;  scolded  by 
Jeanie,  92 ;  takes  service  with  Mrs. 
Saddletree,  95  ;  her  misfortune,  97  ; 
apprehended,  99  ;  interrogated  by  tlie 
procurator,  173;  interview  with  Jeanie 
whilst  in  jail,  199  ;  placed  in  tlie  dock, 
212  ;  her  declaration,  333;  found  guilty, 
235 ;  second  interview  with  Jeanie, 
244 ;  her  connection  with  George 
Staunton,  329  ;  is  pardoned,  376  ;  runs 
away  from  her  father,  433  ;  letter  to 
her  father,  433  ;  surprises  Jeanie  at 
Roseneath,  453;  affecting  letter  to 
Jeanie,  464  ;  praised  by  the  Duke  of 
Argyle,  470  ;  tenor  of  her  letters,  473. 
See  further,  Staunton,  Lady 

Deans,  Jeanie,  early  association  with 
Butler,  75  ;  and  the  visits  of  Dumbie- 
dikes, 78,  86  ;  personal  description  of 
79 ;  admires  Butler's  learning,  83 ; 
scolds  Effie,  92  ;  breaks  off  her  engage- 
ment, 113;  meets  Robertson  at  Mus- 
chat's  Cairn,  142,  147 ;  escapes  from 
Sharpitlaw's  party,  175  ;  diffieulties 
attending  her  evidence,  195  ;  interview 
with  Effie  in  jail,  199 ;  at  the  trial, 
210 ;  in  the  witness-box,  227  ;  receives 
her  father's  blessing,  243  ;  second  in- 
Interview  with  Effie,  244  ;  takes  Rat- 
cliffe's  pass,  246  ;  asks  assistance  from 
Dumbiedikes,  256  ;  his  Mooing,  257  ; 
visit  to  Butler,  266  ;  letters  to  her 
father,  374,  384  ;  to  Butler,  275,  886  ; 
stopped  by  highwaymen,  284  ;  danger 
in  their  hut,  296  ;  led  into  churcii  by 
Madge  Wildfire,  310  ;  brought  before 
Rev.  Mr.  Staunton,  320 ;  interview  with 
George  Staunton,  335  ;  his  relations 
with  Eflie,  326 ;  put  in  Mrs.  Dalton's 
charge,  342 ;  escorted  to  Stamford, 
345 ;  arrives  in  London,  -348  ;  interview 
with  Argyle,  351  ;  cross-questioned  by 
Mrs.  Glass,  358,  381  ;  taken  to  Rich- 
mond, 360 ;  interview  with  Queen 
Caroline,  372 ;  discusses  cheese  with 
the  Duke,  379  ;  her  father's  reply  to 
her  letter  to  him,  390  ;  presented  to  the 
Duchess,  393 ;  sets  off  home,  394  ;  at 
Madge  Wildfire's  death,  401  ;  her  dis- 
tress at  the  change  of  route,  406 ; 
meeting  with  her  father,  413 ;  with 
Butler,  431 ;  inspects  her  future  home. 


441  ;  delight  at  seeing  the  cows,  443 ; 
unpacks  the  Argyle  presents,  444 ; 
surprised  by  Effie  at  Roseneath,  452  ; 
marriage  to  Butler,  457  ;  joys  and 
crosses  of  her  married  life,  458  ;  reads 
Effie's  letter,  464 ;  her  transitory  pique, 
467  ;  surprises  Butler  with  the  money 
476  ;  is  visited  by  Lady  Staunton,  483  ; 
visits  the  Whistler,  519 ;  loosens  his 
cords,  520 

Deans,  Mrs.  Rebecca,  79 

Dempster  of  court,  236,  639.  See  alsc 
Hangman 

Dhu,  John,  of  the  City  Guard,  24 

Dick,  Sir  William,  of  Braid,  184,  539 

Dickson,  JIaggie.  See  Half-hanged 
Maggie  Dickson 

Donacha  Dhu,  474,  491  ;  attacks  Butler 
and  Sir  George  Staunton,  514  ;  killed 
by  Knockdunder,  514  ;  his  plans,  517 

Doomster  of  court,  236,  539.  .See  also 
Hangman 

Dumbiedikes,  old  laird  of,  69  ;  deathbed 
of,  71 

Dumbiedikes,  young  laird  of,  at  his 
father's  deathbed,  71  ;  his  character, 
73  ;  his  visits  to  the  Deans,  78,  86  ;  his 
wooing,  87,  257  ;  offers  money  to  help 
Effie,  100,  122  ;  appealed  to  by  Jeanie, 
256 ;  married,  420 

Dumbiedikes  mansion-house,  250  ;  situa- 
tion of,  534 

Dunbar  ton.  Castle  of,  408 

Dundas,  James,  younger,  of  Arniston, 
120 

Dunover,  Mr.,  mail-coach  passenger,  5  ; 
his  history,  13 

Dutton,  Mrs.,  Dolly,  379;  curiosity  to 
witness  the  execution,  396  ;  refuses  to 
go  on  the  water,  409  ;  appears  late  for 
breakfast,  439 ;  jealousy  of  Jeanie's 
presents,  444  ;  refuses  to  land  at  Rose- 
neat  li  pier,  447 ;  sends  Meg  Murdock- 
son's  Confession  to  Jeanie,  480 

Edinburgh,  City  Guard  of,  22,  51,  526  : 
communication  with  London,  272 ; 
courts,  209  ;  Grassmarket,  16,  26,  39  ; 
guard-house,  50  ;  hangman,  132,  236  ; 
"Heart  of  Midlothian  "  in,  7  ;  King's 
Park,  85,  102,  107,  146  ;  Krames,  47 ; 
Luckenbooths,  47,  51  ;  magistrates  of, 
25,  54  ;  mob,  30,  48  ;  ports,  48,  50  ;  stu- 
dents, 71,  534  ;  tolbooth,  7,  46,  53,  527  : 
Tolbooth  Church,  20 

Envoy,  Cleishbotham's,  522 

Fairbrother,  Effie's  counsel,  215,  233 
Fairies,  belief  in,  144  ;  fairy  boy  of  Leith, 

537 
Fairscrieve,  city-clerk,  133,  153, 178 
Fair  sex,  calumniator  of,  177 
Feckless  Fannie,  543 
Ferguson,  or  Fergusson,  on  City  Guard, 

23 
Fife,  smuggling  in,  18 
Fleming,  Archdeacon,  of  Carlisle,  4801 

497 
Forbes,  Duncan,  888 

Gare,  Loch,  412 

Glass,  Mrs.,  her  instructions  to  Jeanie 


WAVERLET  NOVELS 


556 


tBS ;  cross-questions  Jeanie,  358,  S81  ; 

and  the  Duke's  visit,  387 
Ooldie,    Mrs.,  of   Craigmuie,   ix ;    her 

daughter's  letter,  xii 
"  Good  even,  good  fair  moon,"  170 
Gordon,  Francis,  death  of  428,  545 
Grassmarket,  Edinburgh,  16  ;  execution 

of  Wilson  in,  26  ;  at  the  execution  of 

Porteous,  29 
Graves,  Bow  Street  officer,  on  women, 

538 
Guard-house,  Edinburgh,  50 
Gunnerby  Hill,  near  Grantham,  281 ; 

Jeanie  stopped  by  highwaymen  near, 

284 

Half-Hanged  Maggie  Dickson,  399,  543 
Halklt,  Edinburgh  lawyer,  4 
Hangman  of  Edinburgh,  132,  236,  536. 

See  also  Dalgleish  and  Doomster 
Harabee  Brow  Hill,  396 
Hardie,  Edinburgh  advocate,  4 
Hardwicke,    Lord,  and    the  Duke    of 

Argyle,  350,  540 
"  Headstrong,  determined  in  his  own 

career,"  348 
Heart  of  Midlothian,  Edinburgh,  7.    See 

Tolbooth 
Heart  of  Midlothian,  the  novel,  ix 
"■  He  that  is  down  "  305 
Hettly,   May,  247 ;    shows  Jeanie    the 

cows,  442 
Highwaymen  on  the  North  Road,  284 
Howden,  Mrs.,  on  Porteous's  reprieve, 

34,  37  ;  on  the  verdict  on  Effle,  238 

•'I  GLANCE  like  the  wildfire,"  160 
"I'm  Madge  of  the  country,"  305 
"In  the  bonny  cells  of  Bedlam,"  290 
invisible  world.  Covenanters'  belief  in, 

106,  144 
Irongray,    place    of   Helen    Walker's 

burial,  xiii,  523 
"  It  is  the  bonny  butcher  lad,"  171 

Kelpie's  Voice,  526 

King's  Advocate,  214,  231 

King's  Park,  85,  102,  107,  166 

Knockdunder,  Captain  of,  435  ;  smokes 
in  church,  446 ;  his  boat  run  down, 
455 ;  interposes  in  behalf  of  Ailie 
MacClure,  468  ;  escorts  Lady  Staunton 
to  Knocktarlitie,  483  ;  hunts  Donacha 
Dhu,  511  ;  kills  him,  514 

Knocktarlitie,  manse  of,  441 

Krames  of  the  tolbooth,  Edinburgh,  47 

Law-Courts,  Edinburgh,  209 

Lawson,  Miss  Helen,  ix 

Lawyer,  Scottish,  Deans's  objection  to, 
116,  120 

Leith,  fairy  boy  of,  537 

Levitt,  Frank,  highwayman,  stops 
Jeanie,  284  ;  colloquy  with  Meg  Mur- 
dockson,  203  ;  committal  of,  480 

Liberton,  262 

Lily  of  St.  Leonard's.    See  Deans,  Bffle 

Lincluden  Abbey,  ix 

Lochaber  axe,  24 

Lockman,  132,  236,  536.  See  also  Dal- 
gleish and  Doomster 


London,    communication    with   Edin* 

burgh,  272 
Lord  High  Commissioner  of  Scottish 

Kirk,  496 
Lords  of  seat  and  of  session,  37 
Luckenbooths,  47  51 

Madge  Wildfire,  before  the  procuratop 
158 ;  questioned  by  Ratcliffe,  161 ; 
leads  the  officers  to  Muschat's  Cairn, 
168  ;  her  conduct  towards  her  mother, 
182 ;  accosts  Jeanie  on  the  North 
Road,  283  ;  takes  her  into  her  own 
apartment,  288  ;  leads  her  from  the 
hut,  297  ;  quotes  Pilgrim's  Progress, 
301,  306  ;  tells  of  her  past  history,  301  ; 
bedecks  herself  with  finery,  308  ;  en- 
ters  the  church,  310  ;  her  connection 
with  George  Staunton,  328  ;  appeals 
to  Jeanie  at  Carlisle,  399  ;  her  death, 
401  ;  prototype  of,  542 

Magistrates  of  Edinburgh,  25,  54 

Mail-coaches,  1 

Marsport  v.  l^ackland,  118 

Meiklehose,  Elder,  446,  449 

Middleburgh,  Bailie,  177 ;  visits  St 
Leonard's  185 

Mob  of  Edinburgh,  30  ;  Porteous  mob, 
48-64 

"  Much  have  I  fear'd,"  10 

Murdockson,  Meg,  demands  her  daugh- 
ter, 180;  in  the  high  way  men's  hut, 
286  ;  her  colloquy  with  Levitt,  293 ; 
relations  with  George  Staunton,  328, 
331  ;  her  execution,  396 ;  her  Dying 
Confession,  480 

Muschat's  Cairn,  107, 146  ;  story  of  Nicol 
Muschat,  536 

Netherbow  Port,  Edinburgh,  50 
Newark,  Jeanie  at,  281 
Novit,  Nichil,  the  attorney,  71 ;  his  sob 
acts  for  Effie,  211 

Ordination  oath,  Deans  on,  423,  447; 

Butler's  445 
"  O  sleep  ye  sound.  Sir  James,"  172 
Ostler,  Dick,  278,  280 
"  Our  work  is  over — over  now,"  401 

Peden,  Life  of,  quoted,  188 
Pilgrim's  Progress  cited,  301,  306 
Pittenweeni,  Wilson's  robery  at,  18 
Plumdamas,  on  Porteous's  reprieve,  34, 
36 ;    acts    as    peacemaker,    238 ;    at 
Saddletree's  house,  501 
Porteous,    Captain    John,    22,    25;   his 
cruelty  to  Wilson,  26  ;  fires  upon  the 
mob,  27  ;  reprieved,  32  ;  dragged  out 
of  the  tolbooth,  5S  ;  hanged,  63 
Porteous,  Mrs.,  501  ;  indemnified  for  her 

husband's  death,  540 
Porteous    mob,  48-04,  .527;    official  in- 
quiry into,  .528-534  ;  Dr.  Carlyle's  re- 
collections of,  .534 
Ports,  or  gates,  of  Edinburgh,  48,  50 
Portsburgh,  suburb  of  Edinburgh,  48 
"  Proud  Maisie  is  in  the  wood,"  403 

QuAEERisM,  Author's  connection  with, 
xvii,  623 


F>eu 


INDEX 


Ratolipfk,  Jim,  refuses  to  leave  the 

tolbooth,  59  ;  before  the  magistrate, 
130 ;  his  intei'view  with  Sharpitlaw, 
165  ;  questions  Madge  Wildfire,  161  ; 
goes  to  Muschat's  Cairn,  167;  ap- 
pointed jailer  of  the  tolbooth,  197 ; 
gives  Jeanie  his  pass,  346  ;  his  com- 
munication to  Sir  George,  515  ;  note 
on,  546 

Richmond  Park,  scene  in,  367;  Richmond 
Hill,  view  from,  363 

Robertson,  Geordie,  associated  with 
Wilson,  18 ;  attempted  escape,  19 ; 
actual  escape,  21  ;  his  part  in  the 
Porteous  riot,  59  ;  accosted  by  Butler 
in  the  King's  Park,  102 ;  meets  Jeanie 
at  Muschat's  Cairn,  147 ;  escapes  from 
the  police  officers,  152  ;  See  further^ 
Staunton,  George 

Rory  Bean,  Dumbiedike's  pony,  87,  124, 
259 

Roseneath,  408,  412,  436 

Ross,  Alex.,  his  Fortunate  Shepherd 
quoted.  440 

Saddletree,  Bartoline,  34 ;  his  Latin, 
36 ;   discu:5sions  with   Butler,  36,  40, 
264  ;  oji  Effle's  case,  43  ;  his  advice  to 
David  Deans,  111,  116;  puts  the  case 
of  Marsport  j;.  Lackland,  118  ;  at  Eftie's 
trial,  211  ;  recites  Argyle  on  the  Port- 
eons  mob,  240  ;   intrudes  on  Butler, 
264  ;  his  version  of  Crombie  v.  Mac- 
Phail,  266  ;  in  after  years,  601 
Saddletree,  Mrs.,  35  ;  cares  of  the  shop, 
40  ;  takes  Effle  into  her  employment, 
95 ;  makes  tea  for  Sir  G.  Staunton, 
501 
St.  Anthony's  Chapel,  146 
St.  Leonard's  Crags,  85 
Salisbury  Crags,  near  Edinburgh,  66 
Scotsmen,  clannish  feeling  of,  381 
Scottish  bishops,  expulsion  of  391,  541 
Semple,  John,  85,  145.  535 
Sharpitlaw,  his  interview  with  Ratcliff  e, 
155  ;   examines  Madge  Wildfire,  158  ; 
examines  Effie,  164  ;  attempts  to  cap- 
ture  Robertson,    167;    hia    sneer   at 
women,  177,  538 
Shawfleld's  mob,  407,  544 
Shaws,  murder  of  the  two,  243,  541 
Smuggling  in  Scotland,  17,  438 
Somerset  stage-coach,  4 
"  Some  say  that  we  wan,"  393 
Speculative  Society,  Edinburgh,  14 
"  Stand  to  it,  noble  pikemen,"  317 
Staunton,  George,  discovers  himself  to 
Jeanie,  325  ;  his  story,  328  ;  upbraided 
by  his  father.  337 ;  offers  his  life  to 
save  Effle's,  344  ;  his  history,  346  ;  ap- 
pears at  Roseneath,  355  ;  in  the  Lord 
High  Commissioner's  train,  496  ;  seeks 
Butler's  acquaintance,  499  :  turns  in 
to  the  Saddletrees'  house,  501 ;  assists 
Mrs.    Porteous,   501  ;    challenged   bv 
Ratcliffe,  502  ;  thinks  to  offer  Butler 
a  'iving,  r05 :  lands  at  Caird's  Cove, 
909;  killed,  514 


Staunton,  Lady,  nrrires  at  Knocktar- 

litie,  483  ;  appearance  and  manners 
of,  484,  488  ;  her  danger  at  the  water- 
fall, 491  ;  her  grief  for  Sir  George's 
death,  515  ;  her  subsequent  history, 
.520 

Staunton,  Rev.  Mr.,  observes  Jeanie  in 
church,  312 ;  hears  her  story,  320  ;  up- 
braids his  son,  337  :  his  history,  347 

Stubbs,  the  ^Villiugham  beadle,  314 

Students  of  Edinburgh,  71.  534 

Suffolk,  Lady,  307 

Supernatural  visitants,  belief  in,  106, 
144,  491 

Surplice,  Presbyterian  objection  to,  312 

Talla  Linns,  Cameronian  conference 

at,  191,  539 
Thames,  from  Richmond  HiU,  363 
"■  There's  a  bloodhound  ranging,"  173 
"  The  water  gently  down  the  level  slid,'' 

440 
Thomas,  servant  at  Willingham,  316 
Tillicidian,  Saddletree's  collision  with, 

265 
Tolbooth,  old,   Edinburgh,  7,  46,  527; 

broken  into  by  Porteous  mob,  53-56 
Tolbooth  Church,  Robertson's  escape 

from,  20, 
Tolling  to  service,  445,  546 
Tramp,  Gaffer,  398 
Trees,  planting  of,  71,  534 
Tyburn,  London,  16 
Tyburn  Tom,  highwayman,  284,  480 

Union,  the,  lament  over,  34,  37 

Waiters,  Edinburgh  gate-keepers,  49 

Walker,  Helen,  prototype  of  Jeanie 
Deans,  x,  xiii  ;  her  to-  '''ine  and 
epitaph,  523 

Walker,  Patrick,  Cameronian  historian, 
94,  .535  ;  on  Francis  Gordon's  death, 
428,  545  ;  his  book  cited,  535,  541,  545 

Wallace  Inn,  Gandercleugh,  5 

West  Port,  Edinburgh,  50 

Whackbairn,  Liberton  schoolmaster,  44, 
263 

"  What  did  ye  wi'  the  bridal  ring,"  162 

"  When  the  fight  of  grace,"  403 

"  When  the  gled's  In  the  blue  cloud." 
152 

Whistler, Effle's  child,  493;  rescues  Ladj 
Staunton,  492  ;  captured  by  Knock- 
dunder,  514  ;  his  history,  516,  520  ;  es- 
capes, 519 

Willingham  rectory,  315 

Willoughby,  Peregrine  Bertie.  Lord, 
317 

Wilson,  Andrew,  smuggler,  18 ;  at> 
tempted  escape.  19  ;  secures  Robert- 
son's escape,  21  :  execution  of,  26, 
Staunton's  connection  with,  329 

Witchcraft,  belief  in,  106.  144 

Women,  cynical  opinion  of,  538 

Woodend  cottage,  74 

ToRK,  James,  blacksmith  of  Lincoln.  Sl^ 


TALES    OF    MY    LANDLORD 


Hear,  Land  o'  Cakes  and  brither  Scots, 
Frae  Maidenkirk  to  Johnny  Groat's, 
If  there's  a  hole  in  a'  your  coats, 

I  rede  ye  tent  it ; 
i.  chiel's  amang  you  takin'  notes, 

An'  faith  he'll  prent  it ! 

BUEN£ 


Ahora  Men,  dixo  il  Cura,  traedme,  senor  hu4sped,  aguesos  libros, 
que  los  quiero  ver.  Que  vie  place,  respondio  el,  y  enirando  en  su 
aposento,  saco  del  una  maletilla  vieja  cerrada  con  una  cadenilla,  y 
abriendola  hallo  en  ella  tres  libros  grandes  y  unos  papeles  de  muy 
buena  letra  eseritos  de  viano. — Don  Quixote,  Parte  I.,  Capitulo 
xxxii. 

It  is  mighty  well,  said  the  priest ;  pray,  landlord,  bring  me  those 
books,  for  I  have  a  mind  to  see  them.  With  all  my  heart,  answered 
the  host  ;  and  going  to  his  chamber,  he  brought  out  a  little  old 
cloke-bag,  with  a  padlock  and  chain  to  it,  and  opening  it,  he  took 
out  three  large  volumes,  and  some  manuscript  papers  written  in  a 
fine  character. — Jarvis's  Translation. 


INTRODUCTION 

TO 

THE    BRIDE    OF    LAMMERMOOR 


The  Author,  on  a  former  occasion,*  declined  giving  the 
real  source  from  which  lie  drew  the  tragic  subject  of  this 
history,  because,  though  occurring  at  a  distant  period,  it  might 
possibly  be  unpleasing  to  the  feelings  of  the  descendants  of 
the  parties,  t  But  as  he  finds  an  account  of  the  circumstances 
given  in  the  Notes  to  Law's  Memorials,  X  by  his  ingenious 
friend,  Charles  Kirkpatrick  Sharpe,  Esq.,  and  also  indicated 
in  his  reprint  of  the  Rev,  Mr.  Symson's  poems  appended  to 
the  Large  Description  of  Galloway,  as  the  original  of  the 
Bride  of  Laniinermoor ,  the  Author  feels  himself  now  at 
liberty  to  tell  the  tale  as  he  had  it  from  connections  of  his 
own,  who  lived  very  near  the  period,  and  were  closely  related 
to  the  family  of  the  bride. 

It  is  well  known  that  the  family  of  Dalrymple,  which  has 
produced,  within  the  space  of  two  centuries,  as  many  men  of 
talent,  civil  and  military,  and  of  literary,  political,  and  pro- 
fessional eminence,  as  any  house  in  Scotland,  first  rose  into 
distinction  in  the  person  of  James  Dalrymple,  one  of  the 
most  eminent  lawyers  that  ever  lived,  though  the  labors  of 
his  powerful  mind  were  unhappily  exercised  on  a  subject  so 
limited  as  Scottish  jurisprudence,  on  which  he  has  composed 
-in  admirable  work. 

He  married  Margaret,  daughter  to  Ross  of  Balneel,  with 
whoia  he  obtained  a  considerable  estate.  She  was  an  able, 
politic,   and  high-minded  woman,  so  successful  in  what  she 

*  See  Introduction  to  the  Chronicles  of  the  Canongate. 
t  Sae  The  Family  of  Stair.    Note  1. 
t  Iaw^b  Mei.iorials,  p.  226. 


X  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

undertook,  that  the  vulgar,  no  way  partial  to  her  husband  or 
her  family,  imputed  her  success  to  necromancy.  According 
to  the  popular  belief,  this  Dame  Margaret  purchased  the 
temporal  prosperity  of  her  family  from  the  Master  whom  she 
served  under  a  singular  condition,  which  is  thus  narrated 
by  the  historian  of  her  grandson,  the  great  Earl  of  Stair  ■• 
"  She  lived  to  a  great  age,  and  at  her  death  desired  that  she 
might  not  be  put  under  ground,  but  that  her  coffin  should 
stand  upright  on  one  end  of  it,  promising  that  while  she 
remained  in  that  situation  the  Dalrymples  should  continue 
to  flourish.  What  was  the  old  lady's  motive  for  the  request, 
or  whether  she  really  made  such  a  promise,  I  shall  not  take 
mpon  me  to  determine ;  but  it's  certain  her  coffin  stands  up- 
' right  in  the  aisle  of  the  church  of  Kirklistown,  the  burial- 
place  belonging  to  the  family."*  The  talents  of  this  accom- 
plished race  were  sufficient  to  have  accounted  for  the  digni- 
ties which  many  members  of  the  family  attained,  without  any 
supernatural  assistance.  But  their  extraordinary  prosperity 
was  attended  by  some  equally  singular  family  misfortunes,  of 
Avhich  that  wiiich  befell  their  eldest  daughter  was  at  once  un- 
accountable and  melancholy. 

Miss  Janet  Dalrymple,  daughter  of  the  first  Lord  Stair 
and  Dame  Margaret  Eoss,  liad  engaged  herself  without  the 
knowledge  of  her  parents  to  the  Lord  Rutherford,  who  was 
not  acceptable  to  them  either  on  account  of  his  political 
principles  or  his  want  of  fortune.  The  young  couple  broke 
a  piece  of  gold  together,  and  pledged  their  troth  in  the  most 
solemn  manner ;  and  it  is  said  the  young  lady  imprecated 
dreadful  evils  on  herself  should  she  break  her  plighted  faith. 
Shortly  after,  a  suitor  who  Avas  favored  by  Lord  Stair,  and 
still  more  so  by  his  lady,  paid  his  addresses  to  Miss  Dalrym- 
ple. Tiic  young  lady  refused  the  proposal,  and  being  pressed 
on  the  subject,  confessed  her  secret  engagement.  Lady  Stair, 
a  woman  accustomed  to  universal  submission,  for  even  her 
husband  did  not  dare  to  contradict  her,  treated  this  objec- 
tion as  a  trifle,  and  insisted  upon  her  daughter  yielding  her 
consent  to  marry  the  new  suitor,  David  Dunbar,  son  and 
keir  to  David  Dunbar  of  Baldoon,  in  Wigtonshire.  The  first 
lover,  a  man  of  very  high  spirit,  then  interfered  by  letter,  and 
insisted  on  the  right  he  had  acquired  bv  his  troth  plighted 
with  the  young  lady.  Lady  Stair  sent  him  for  answer,  that 
her  daughter,  sensible  of  her  undutiful  behavior  in  entering 
into  a  contract  unsanctioned  by  her  parents,  had   retracted 

*  Memoirs  of  John  Earl  of  Stair,  by  an  Importaai  Hand.     Loedon,  printed  f# 
C.  Corbett,  p.  8. 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR    xi 

her  unlawful  vow,  and  now  refused  to  fulfil  her  engagement 
with  him. 

The  lover,  in  return,  declined  positively  to  receive  such 
an  answer  from  any  one  but  his  mistress  in  person  ;  and  as 
she  had  to  deal  with  a  man  who  was  both  of  a  most  deter- 
mined character  and  of  too  high  condition  to  be  trifled  with. 
Lady  Stair  was  obliged  to  consent  to  an  interview  between 
Lord  Kutlierford  and  her  daughter.  But  she  took  care  to  be 
present  in  person,  and  argued  the  point  Avith  the  disappointed 
and  incensed  lover  with  pertinacity  equal  to  his  own.  She 
particularly  insisted  on  the  Levitical  law,  which  declares  that 
a  woman  shall  be  free  of  a  vow  which  her  parents  dissent 
from.     This  is  the  passage  of  Scripture  she  founded  on  : 

"If  a  man  vow  a  vow  unto  the  Lord,  or  swear  an  oath  to 
bind  his  soul  with  a  bond  ;  he  shall  not  break  his  word,  he 
shall  do  according  to  all  that  proceedeth  out  of  his  mouth. 

"  If  a  woman  also  vow  a  vow  unto  the  Lord,  and  bind 
herself  by  a  bond,  being  in  her  father's  house  in  her  youth  ; 

"  And  her  father  hear  her  vow,  and  her  bond  wherewith 
she  hath  bound  her  soul,  and  her  father  shall  hold  his  peace 
at  her  :  then  all  her  vows  shall  stand,  and  every  bond  where- 
with she  iiath  bound  her  soul  shall  stand. 

''  But  if  her  father  disallow  her  in  the  day  that  he  heareth  ; 
not  any  of  her  vows,  or  of  her  bonds  wherewith  she  hath 
bound  her  soul,  shall  stand  :  and  the  Lord  shdl  forgive  her, 
because  her  father  disallowed  her." — Numbers  xxx.  2-5. 

While  the  mother  insisted  on  these  topics,  the  lover  in 
vain  conjured  the  daughter  to  declare  her  own  opinion  and 
feelings.  She  remained  totally  overwhelmed,  as  it  seemed — 
mute,  pale,  and  motionless  as  a  statue.  Only  at  her  mother's 
command,  sternly  uttered,  she  summoned  strength  enough  to 
restore  to  her  plighted  suitor  the  piece  of  broken  gold  which 
was  the  emblem  of  her  troth.  On  this  he  burst  forth  into  a 
tremendous  passion,  took  leave  of  the  mother  with  maledic- 
tions, and  as  he  left  the  apartment,  turned  back  to  say  to  his 
weak,  if  not  fickle,  mistress,  "  For  you,  madam,  you  will  be 
a  world's  wonder  ;  "  a  phrase  by  which  some  remarkable  de« 
greo  of  calamity  is  usually  implied.  He  went  abroad,  and 
returned  not  again.  If  the  last  Lord  Rutherford  was  tha 
unfortunate  party,  he  miast  have  been  the  third  who  bore  th^'' 
title,  and  who  died  in  1G85. 

The  marriage  betwixt  Janet  Dalrympleand  David  Dunba; 
of  Baldoou  now  went  forward,  the  bride  showing  no  repug 
nance,  but  being  absolutely  passive  in  everything  lier  mothei 
commanded  or  advised.     On  the  day  of  the  marriage,  which. 


xii  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

as  was  then  usual,  was  celebrated  by  a  great  assemblage  of 
friends  and  relations,  she  was  the  same — sad,  silent,  and  re- 
signed, as  it  seemed,  to  her  destiny.  A  lady,  very  nearly 
connected  with  the  family,  told  the  Author  that  she  had 
conversed  on  the  subjectt  with  one  of  the  brothers  of  the  bride, 
a  mere  lad  at  the  time,  who  had  ridden  before  his  sister  to 
church.  He  said  her  hand,  which  lay  on  his  as  she  held  her 
arm  round  his  waist,  was  as  cold  and  damp  as  marble.  But, 
full  of  liis  new  dress  and  the  part  lie  acted  in  the  procession, 
the  circumstance,  which  he  long  afterwards  remembered  with 
bitter  sorrow  and  com2^unction,  made  no  impression  on  him  at 
the  time. 

The  bridal  feast  was  followed  by  dancing.  The  bride  and 
bridegroom  retired  as  usual,  Avhen  of  a  sudden  the  most  wild 
and  piercing  cries  were  heard  from  the  nuptial  chamber.  It 
was  then  the  custom,  to  prevent  any  coarse  pleasantry  which 
old  times  perhaps  admitted,  that  the  key  of  the  nuptial 
chamber  should  be  intrusted  to  the  bridesman.  He  was 
called  upon,  but  refused  at  first  to  give  it  up,  till  the  shrieks 
became  so  hideous  that  he  was  compelled  to  hasten  with  others 
to  learn  the  cause.  On  opening  the  door,  they  found  the 
bridegroom  lying  across  the  threshold,  dreadfully  wounded, 
and  streaming  with  blood.  The  bride  was  then  sought  for. 
She  was  found  in  the  corner  of  the  lai'ge  chimney,  having  no 
covering  save  her  shift,  and  that  dabbled  in  gore.  There  she 
sat  grinning  at  them,  mopping  and  mowing,  as  I  heard  the 
expression  used  ;  in  a  word,  absolutely  insane.  The  only 
words  she  spoke  were,  "Tak  up  your  bonny  bridegroom." 
She  survived  this  horrible  scene  little  more  than  a  fortnight, 
having  been  married  on  the  24th  of  August,  and  dying  on  the 
12th  of  September,  1669. 

The  unfortunate  Baldoon  recovered  from  his  wounds,  but 
sternly  prohibited  all  inquiries  respecting  the  manner  in 
which  he  had  received  them.  ''If  a  lady,"  he  said,  "  asked 
him  any  question  upon  the  subject,  he  would  neither  answer 
her  nor  speak  to  her  again  v/hile  he  lived  ;  if  a  gentleman,  he 
would  consider  it  as  a  mortal  affront,  and  demand  satisfaction 
as  having  received  such."  He  did  not  very  long  survive  the 
dreadful  catastrophe,  having  met  v/ith  a  fatal  injury  by  a  fall 
from  his  horse,  as  he  rode  between  Leith  and  Holyrood 
House,  of  which  he  died  the  next  day,  28tli  March,  1682. 
Thus  a  few  years  removed  all  the  principal  actors  in  this 
frightful  tragedy. 

Various  reports  went  abroad  on  this  mysterious  affair, 
many  of  them  very  inaccurate,  though  they  could  hardly  be 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR    xiii 

said  to  be  exaggerated.*  It  was  difficult  at  that  time  to 
become  acquainted  with  the  liistory  of  a  Scottish  family  above 
the  lower  rank ;  and  strange  things  sometimes  took  place 
there,  into  which  even  the  law  did  not  scrupulously  inquire. 

The  credulous  Mr.  Law  says,  generally,  that  the  Lord 
President  Stair  had  a  daughter,  who,  '*  being  married,  the 
night  she  was  bride  in,  was  taken  from  her  bridegroom  and 
harled  through  the  liouse  [by  spirits,  we  are  given  to  under- 
stand], and  afterward  died.  Another  daughter/^  he  says, 
"was  supposed  to  be  possessed  with  an  evil  spirit." 

My  friend,  Mr.  Sharpe,  gives  another  edition  of  the  tale. 
According  to  his  information,  it  was  the  bridegroom  who 
wounded  the  bride.  The  marriage,  according  to  this  account, 
had  been  against  her  mother's  inclination,  who  had  given  her 
consent  in  these  ominous  words  :  "  Weel,  you  may  marry  him, 
but  sair  shall  you  repent  it." 

I  find  still  another  account  darkly  insinuated  in  some  highly 
scurrilous  and  abusive  verses,  of  which  I  have  an  original  copy. 
They  are  docketed  as  being  written  "  Upon  the  late  Viscount 
Stair  and  his  family,  by  Sir  William  Hamilton  of  Whitelaw. 
The  marginals  by  William  Dunlop,  writer  in  Edinburgh,  a 
son  of  the  Laird  of  Househill,  and  nephew  to  the  said  Sir 
William  Hamilton."  There  was  a  bitter  and  personal  quarrel 
tmd  rivalry  betwixt  the  author  of  this  libel,  a  name  which  it 
richly  deserves,  and  Lord  President  Stair  ;  and  the  lampoon, 
which  is  written  with  much  more  malice  than  art,  bears  the 
following  motto  : 

Stair's  neck,  mind,  wife,     sons,    grandson,  and  the  rest, 
Are       "wry,    false,   witch,    pests,    parricide,      possessed. 

This  malignant  satirist,  who  calls  up  all  the  misfortunes  of 
the  family,  does  not  forget  the  fatal  bridal  of  Baldoon.  He 
seems,  though  his  verses  are  as  obscure  as  unpoetical,  to  inti- 
mate that  the  violence  done  to  the  bridegroom  was  by  the  in- 
tervention of  the  foul  fiend,  to  whom  tlie  young  lady  had 
resigned  herself,  in  case  she  should  break  her  contract  with 
her  first  lover.  His  hypothesis  is  inconsistent  witli  the  ac- 
count given  in  the  note  upon  Law's  Memorials,  but  easily 
reconcilable  to  the  family  tradition. 

*  There  appeared  in  the  Edinburgh  Evening  Post  of  Oct.  10,  1840  (and  after- 
wards in  the  Li  ues  of  the  Lindsays,  p.  459),  a  letter  dated  September  5th,  1823, 
addressed  by  Sir  C.  Home  Dalrymple  Elphinstone,  Bart.,  to  the  late  Sir  James 
Stewart  Deiiham  of  Joltness,  Bart.,  both  descendants  of  Lord  President  Stair, 
from  which  it  appears  that,  according  to  the  ti-aditional  creed  of  the  Dalrymple 
family,  the  bride's  unhappy  lover,  Lord  Ruthertord,  had  found  means  to  be 
secreted  in  the  nuptial  chamber,  and  tliat  the  wound  of  the  bridegroom.  Sir  David 
Dunbar  of  Baldoon,  was  inflicted  by  Rutherford's  hand. —J.  G.  Lockhart. 


xiv  W AVE  RLE  Y  NOVELS 

In  all  Stair's  offspring  we  no  difference  know, 

They  do  the  females  as  the  males  bestow  ; 

So  he  of  one  of  liis  daughters'  marriage  gave  the  ward, 

Like  a  true  vassal,  to  Glenluce's  Laird  ; 

He  knew  what  slie  did  to  her  master  plight. 

If  she  her  faith  to  Rutherfurd  should  slight, 

Which,  like  liis  own,  for  greed  he  broke  outright. 

Nick  did  Baldoon's  posterior  right  deride, 

And,  as  first  substitute,  did  seize  the  bride  ; 

Whate'er  he  to  his  mistress  did  or  said. 

He  threw  the  bridegroom  from  the  nuptial  bed, 

Into  the  chimney  did  so  his  rival  maul. 

His  bruised  bones  ne'er  were  cured  but  by  the  fall.  * 

One  of  the  marginal  notes  ascribed  to  William  Dunlop 
applies  to  the  above  lines.  "  She  had  betrothed  herself  to 
Lord  Eutherfoord  nnder  horrid  imprecations,  and  afterwards 
married  Baldoon,  his  nevoy,  and  her  mother  was  the  cause  of 
her  breach  of  faith." 

The  same  tragedy  is  alluded  to  in  the  following  couplet 
and  note  : 

What  train  of  curses  that  base  brood  pursues, 
When  the  young  nephew  weds  old  uncle's  spouse. 

The  note  on  the  word  "uncle"  explains  it  as  meaning 
"  Eutherfoord,  who  should  have  married  the  Lady  Baldoon, 
was  Baldoon's  uncle."  The  poetry  of  this  satire  on  Lord 
Stair  and  his  family  was,  as  already  noticed,  written  by  Sir 
William  llumilton  of  Whitelaw,  v.  rival  of  Lord  Stair  for  the 
situation  of  President  of  the  Court  of  Session  ;  a  person  much 
inferior  to  that  great  lawyer  in  talents,  and  equally  ill-treated 
by  the  calumny  or  just  satire  of  his  contemporaries  as  an  un- 
just and  partial  judge.  Some  of  the  notes  are  by  that  curious 
and  laborious  antiquary,  Eobert  Milne,  who,  as  a  virulent 
Jacobite,  willingly  lent  a  hand  to  blacken  the  family  of 
Stair,  t 

Another  poet  of  the  period,  with  a  very  different  purpose, 
has  left  an  elegy,  in  which  he  darkly  hints  at  and  bemoans 
the  fate  of  the  ill-starred  young  person,  whose  very  un- 
common calamity  Whitelaw,  Dunlop,  and  Milne  thought  a 
fitting  subject  for  buffoonery  and  ribaldry.  This  bard  of 
milder  mood  Avas  Andrew  Symson,  before  the  Eevolution 
minister  of  Kirkinner,  in  Galloway,  and  after  his  expulsion 

*  The  fall  from  his  horse,  by  ■which  he  was  killed. 

1 1  have  compared  the  satire,  which  occurs  in  the  first  volume  of  the  curious 
little  collection  called  a  Book  of  Scottish  Pasqxiils,  1827,  with  that  which  has  a  more 
full  text  and  more  extended  notes,  and  which  is  in  mj'  own  possession,  by  gift  of 
Thomas  Thomson,  Esq.,  Register-Depute.  In  the  Book  of  Pasquils,  p.  72.  is  » 
most  abusive  epitaph  on  Sir  AVilliam  Hamilton  of  Whitelaw. 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  BRIDE  OE  LAMMERMOOR    xv 

as  an  Episcopalian  following  the  humble  occupation  of  a 
printer  in  Edinburgh.  He  furnished  the  family  of  Baldoon, 
with  which  he  appears  to  have  been  intimate,  with  an  elegy 
on  the  tragic  event  in  their  family.  In  this  piece  he  treats 
the  mournful  occasion  of  the  bride's  death  with  mysterious 
solemnity. 

The  verses  bear  this  title,  "  On  the  unexpected  death  of 
the  virtuous  Lady  Mrs.  Janet  Dalrymple,  Lady  Baldoon, 
younger,"  and  afford  us  the  precise  dates  of  the  catastrophe, 
which  could  not  otherwise  have  been  easily  ascertained. 
"•  Nupta  August  12.  Domum  Ducta  August  24.  Obiit 
September  12.  Sepult.  September  30,  1669."  The  form 
of  the  elegy  is  a  dialogue  betwixt  a  passenger  and  a  domestic 
servant.  The  first,  recollecting  that  he  had  passed  that  way 
lately,  and  seen  all  around  enlivened  by  the  appearances  of 
mirth  and  festivity,  is  desirous  to  know  what  had  changed  so 
gay  a  scene  into  mourning.  We  preserve  the  reply  of  the 
servant  as  a  specimen  of  Mr.  Symson's  verses,  which  are  not 
'  f  the  first  quality  : 

Sir,  'tis  truth  you've  told. 
We  did  enjoy  great  mirth  ;  but  now,  ah  me  1 
Our  joyful  song's  turn'd  to  an  elegie. 
A  virtuous  lady,  not  long  since  a  bride. 
Was  to  a  hopeful  plant  by  marriage  tied, 
And  brought  home  hither.     We  did  all  rejoice, 
Even  for  her  sake.     But  presently  our  voice 
■     Was  turn'd  to  mourning  for  that  little  time 
That  she'd  enjoy  :  she  waned  in  her  prime, 
For  Atropus,  with  her  impartial  knife. 
Soon  cut  her  thread,  and  therewithal  her  life  ; 
And  for  the  time  we  may  it  well  remember, 
It  being  in  unfortunate  September  ; 

Where  we  must  leave  her  till  the  resurrection, 
"Tis  then  the  Saints  enjoy  their  full  perfection.* 

Mr.  Symson  also  poured  forth  his  elegiac  strains  upon  the 
fate  of  the  widowed  bridegroom,  on  which  subject,  after  a 
long  and  querulous  effusion,  the  poet  arrives  at  the  sound  con- 
clusion, that  if  Baldoon  had  walked  on  foot,  which  it  seems 
was  his  general  custom,  he  would  have  escaped  perishing  by 
a  fall  from  horseback.     As  the  work  in  which  it  occurs  is  so 

*  TJalfi  elegy  is  reprinted  in  the  appendix  to  a  topographical  work  by  the  same 
author,  entitled  A  Large  Description  of  GaUoivay,  by  Andrew  Symson,  Minister  of 
Kirkinner,  gvo,  Tait,  Edinburgh,  18A3.  Tlie  reverend  gentleman's  elegies  are 
ixtftsmfcly  rare,  nor  did  the  Author  ever  see  a  copy  but  his  own,  which  i:;  bound  up 
with  the  Tttpatriarchicon,  a  religious  poem  from  the  Biblical  History,  by  the  same 
author. 


xvi  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

scarce  as  almost  to  be  unique,  and  as  it  gives  us  the  most  full 
account  of  one  of  tlie  actors  in  this  tragic  tale  which  we  have 
rehearsed,  we  will,  at  the  risk  of  being  tedious,  insert  some 
short  specimens  of  Mr.  Symson's  composition.  It  is  en- 
titled— 

"  A  Funeral  Elegie,  occasioned  by  the  sad  and  much 
lamented  death  of  that  worthily  respected,  and  very  much  ac- 
complished gentleman,  David  Dunbar,  younger,  of  Baldoon, 
only  son  and  apparent  lieir  to  the  right  worshipful  Sir  David 
Dunbar  of  Baldoon,  Knight  Baronet.  He  departed  this  life 
on  March  28,  1682,  having  received  a  bruise  by  a  fall,  as  he 
was  riding  the  day  preceding  betwixt  Leith  and  Holyrood 
House  ;  and  was  honorably  interred  in  the  Abbey  Church  of 
Holyrood  House,  on  April  4,  1682.^' 

Men  might,  and  very  justly  too,  conclude 

Me  guilty  of  the  worst  ingratitude, 

Should  I  be  silent,  or  should  I  forbear 

At  this  sad  accident  to  shed  a  tear  ; 

A  tear  1  said  I  ?  ah  !  that's  a  petit  thing, 

A  very  lean,  slight,  slender  offering. 

Too  mean,  I'm  sure,  for  me,  wherewith  t'attend 

The  unexpected  funeral  of  my  friend  : 

A  glass  of  briny  tears  charged  up  to  th'  brim. 

Would  be  too  few  for  me  to  shed  for  him. 

The  poet  proceeds  to  state  his  intimacy  with  the  deceased, 
and  the  constancy  of  the  young  man's  attendance  on  public 
worship,  which  was  regular,  and  had  such  effect  upon  two  or 
three  others  that  were  influenced  by  his  example. 

So  that  my  Muse  'gainst  Priscian  avers, 
He,  only  he,  were  my  parishioners  ; 
Yea,  and  my  only  hearers. 

He  then  describes  the  deceased  in  person  and  manners, 
from  which  it  appears  that  more  accomplishments  were  ex- 
pected in  the  composition  of  a  fine  gentleman  in  ancient  than 
modern  times  : 

His  body,  though  not  very  large  or  tall. 
Was  sprightly,  active,  yea  and  strong  withal. 
His  constitution  was,  if  right  I've  guess'd, 
Blood  mixt  with  choler,  said  to  be  the  best. 
In's  gesture,  converse,  speech,  discourse,  attire. 
He  practis'd  that  which  wise  men  still  admire. 
Commend,  and  recommend.     What's  that  ?  you'll  say. 
'Tis  this  :  he  ever  choos'd  the  middle  way 
'Twixt  both  th'  extremes.     Amost  in  ev'ry  thing 
He  did  the  like,  'ti-i  wovth  our  noticing  : 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR    xvii 

Sparing,  yet  not  a  niggard  ;  liberal, 

And  yet  not  lavish  or  a  prodigal. 

As  knowing  when  to  spend  and  when  to  spare  ; 

And  that's  a  lesson  which  not  many  are 

Acquainted  with.     He  bashful  was,  yet  daring 

When  he  saw  cause,  and  yet  therein  but  sparing  ; 

Familiar,  yet  not  common,  for  he  knew 

To  condescend,  and  keep  his  distance  too. 

He  us'd,  and  that  most  commonly,  to  go 

On  foot ;  I  wish  that  he  had  still  done  so. 

Th'  affairs  of  court  were  imto  him  well  known  ; 

And  yet  meanwhile  he  shghted  not  his  own. 

He  knew  full  well  how  to  behave  at  court, 

And  yet  but  seldom  did  thereto  resort ; 

But  lov'd  the  country  life,  choos'd  to  inure 

Himself  to  past'rage  and  agriculture  ; 

Proving,  improving,  ditching,  trenching,  draining, 

Viewing,  reviewing,  and  by  those  means  gaining  ; 

Planting,  transplanting,  leveUing,  ei-ecting 

Walls,  chambers,  houses,  terraces  ;  projecting 

Now  this,  now  that  device,  this  draught,  that  measure. 

That  might  advance  his  profit  with  his  pleasure. 

Quick  in  his  bargains,  honest  in  commerce. 

Just  in  his  dealings,  being  much  averse 

From  quirks  of  law,  still  ready  to  refer 

His  cause  t'  an  honest  country  arbiter. 

He  was  acquainted  with  cosmography, 

Arithmetic,  and  modern  history  ; 

With  architecture  and  such  arts  as  these, 

Which  I  may  call  specifick  sciences 

Fit  for  a  gentleman  ;  and  surely  he 

That  knows  them  not,  at  least  in  some  degree, 

May  brook  the  title,  but  he  wants  the  thing. 

Is  but  a  shadow  scarce  worth  noticing. 

He  learned  the  French,  be't  spoken  to  his  praise, 

In  very  little  more  than  fourty  days. 

Then  comes  the  fall  bnrst  of  woe,  in  which,  instead  oi 
saying  much  himself,  the  poet  informs  us  what  the  ancients 
would  have  said  on  such  an  occasion  : 

A  heathen  poet,  at  the  news,  no  doubt, 

Would  have  exclaimed,  and  furiously  cry'd  out 

Against  the  fates,  the  destinies  and  starrs. 

What  I  this  the  effect  of  planetarie  warrs  ! 

We  might  have  seen  him  rage  and  rave,  yea  worse, 

'lifl  very  like  we  might  have  heard  him  curse 

The  year,  the  month,  the  day,  the  hour,  the  place. 

The  company,  the  wager,  and  the  race  ; 

Decry  all  recreations,  with  the  names 

Of  Isthmian,  Pythian,  and  Olympick  games ; 


xviii  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

Exclaim  against  them  all  both  old  and  new, 
Both  the  Nemaean  and  the  Lethaean  too  : 
Adjudge  all  persons,  under  highest  pain, 
Always  to  walk  on  foot,  and  then  again 
Order  all  horses  to  be  hough'd,  that  we 
Might  never  more  the  like  adventure  see. 

Supposing  our  readers  have  had  enough  of  Mr.  Symson's 
woe,  and  finding  nothing  more  in  his  poem  worthy  of  tran- 
scription, we  return  to  the  tragic  story. 

It  is  needless  to  point  out  to  the  intelligent  reader  that 
the  witchcraft  of  the  mother  consisted  only  in  the  ascendency 
of  a  powerful  mind  over  a  weak  and  melancholy  one,  and 
that  the  harshness  with  which  she  exercised  her  superiority  in 
a  case  of  delicacy  had  driven  her  daughter  first  to  despair, 
then  to  frenzy.  Accordingly,  the  Author  has  endeavored  to 
explain  the  tragic  tale  on  this  principle.  Whatever  resem- 
blance Lady  Ashton  may  be  supposect  to  possess  to  the  cele- 
brated Dame  Margaret  Ross,  the  reader  must  not  suppose 
that  there  was  any  idea  of  tracing  the  portrait  of  the  first 
Lord  Viscount  Stair  in  the  tricky  and  mean-spirited  Sir  Will- 
iam Ashton.  Lord  Stair,  wliatever  might  be  his  moral  qual- 
ities, was  certainly  one  of  the  first  statesmen  and  lawyers  of 
his  age. 

The  imaginary  castle  of  Wolf's  Crag  has  been  identified 
by  some  lover  ®f  locality  with  that  of  Fast  Castle.  The 
Author  is  not  competent  to  judge  of  the  resemblance  betwixt 
the  real  and  imaginary  scene,  having  never  seen  Fast  Castle 
except  from  the  sea.  But  fortalices  of  this  description  are 
found  occuj)ying,  like  ospreys'  nests,  projecting  rocks,  or 
promontories,  in  many  parts  of  the  eastern  coast  of  Scotland, 
and  the  position  of  Fast  Castle  seems  certainly  to  resemble 
that  of  Wolf's  Crag  as  much  as  any  other,  while  its  vicinity 
to  the  mountain  ridge  of  Lammermoor  renders  the  assimila- 
tion a  probable  one. 

We  have  only  to  add,  that  the  death  of  the  unfortunate 
bridegroom  by  a  fall  from  horseback  has  been  in  the  novel 
transferred  to  the  no  less  unfortunate  lover.* 

*  See  the  account  of  how  this  novel  was  composed  in  Lockhart's  Life  of  Scott, 
voL  vi.,  p.  &&etseq.,  ed.  1868  QLaing'). 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR 


CHAPTER  I 

By  cauk  and  keel  to  win  your  bread, 
Wi'  whigmaleeries  for  them  wha  need, 
Whilk  is  a  gentle  trade  indeed 

To  carry  the  gaberlunzie  on. 

Old  Song. 

Few  have  been  in  my  secret  while  I  was  compiling  these 
luirratives,  nor  is  it  probable  that  they  will  ever  become  pub- 
lic during  the  life  of  their  author.  Even  were  that  event  tc 
happen,  I  am  not  ambitious  of  the  honored  distinction,  digito 
monstrari.  I  confess  that,  were  it  safe  to  cherish  such 
dreams  at  all,  I  should  more  enjoy  the  thought  of  remaining 
behind  the  curtain  unseen,  like  the  ingenious  manager  of 
Punch  and  his  wife  Joan,  and  enjoying  the  astonishment  and 
conjectures  of  my  audience.  Then  might  I,  perchance,  hear 
the  productions  of  the  obscure  Peter  Pattieson  praised  by  the 
judicious  and  admired  by  the  feeling,  engrossing  the  young 
and  attracting  even  the  old  ;  while  the  critic  traced  their  fame 
up  to  some  name  of  literary  celebrity,  and  the  question  when, 
and  by  whom,  these  tales  were  written  filled  up  the  pause  of 
conversation  in  a  hundred  circles  and  coteries.  This  I  may 
never  enjoy  during  my  lifetime  ;  but  farther  than  this,  I  am 
certain,  my  vanity  should  never  induce  me  to  aspire. 

I  am  too  stubborn  in  habits,  and  too  little  polished  in 
manners,  to  envy  or  aspire  to  the  honors  assigned  to  my  liter- 
ary contemporaries.  I  could  not  think  a  whit  more  highly 
of  myself  were  I  even  found  worthy  to  ""'come  in  place  as  a 
lion  "  for  a  winter  in  the  great  metropolis.  I  could  not  rise, 
turn  round,  and  show  all  my  honors,  from  the  shaggy  mane 
to  the  tufted  tail,  -'  roar  you  an  'tAvere  any  nightingale,"  and 
so  lie  down  again  like  a  well-behaved  beast  of  show,  and  all 
at  the  cheap  and  easy  rate  of  a  cup  of  coffee  and  a  slice  of 
bread  and  butter  as  thin  as  a  wafer.     And  I  could  ill  stomach 


2  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

the  fulsome  flattery  with  which  the  lady  of  the  evening  in- 
dulges her  show-monsters  on  such  occasions,  as  she  crams  her 
parrots  with  sugar-plums,  in  order  to  make  them  talk  before 
company.  I  cannot  be  tempted  to  '''come  aloft ""  for  these 
marks  of  distinction,  and,  like  imprisoned  Sampson,  I  would 
rather  remain — if  such  must  be  the  alternative — all  my  life 
in  the  mill-house,  grinding  for  my  very  bread,  than  be 
brought  forth  to  make  sport  for  the  Philistine  lords  and 
ladies.  This  proceeds  from  no  dislike,  real  or  affected,  to  the 
aristocracy  of  these  realms.  But  they  have  their  place,  and 
I  have  mine  ;  and,  like  the  iron  and  earthen  vessels  in  the 
old  fable,  we  can  scarce  come  into  collision  without  my  being 
the  sufferer  in  every  sense.  It  may  be  otherwise  with  the 
sheets  which  I  am  now  writing.  These  may  be  opened  and 
laid  aside  at  pleasure ;  by  amusing  themselves  with  the  peru- 
sal, the  great  will  excite  no  false  hopes  ;  by  neglecting  or 
condemning  them,  they  will  inflict  no  pain  ;  and  how  seldom 
can  they  converse  with  those  whose  minds  have  toiled  for 
their  delight  without  doing  either  the  one  or  the  other. 

In  the  better  and  wiser  tone  of  feeling  which  Ovid  only 
expresses  in  one  line  to  retract  in  that  which  follows,  I  can 
address  these  quires — 

Parve,  nee  invideo,  sine  me,  liber,  ibis  in  urbem. 

Nor  do  I  join  the  regret  of  the  illustrious  exile,  that  he 
himself  could  not  in  person  accompany  the  volume,  which  he 
sent  forth  to  the  mart  of  literature,  jjleasure,  and  luxury. 
Were  there  not  a  hundred  similar  instances  on  record,  the  fate 
of  my  poor  friend  and  school-fellow,  Dick  Tinto,  would  be 
sufficient  to  warn  me  against  seeking  happiness  in  the  celeb- 
rity which  attaches  itself  to  a  successful  cultivator  of  the  fine 
arts. 

Dick  Tinto,  when  he  wrote  himself  artist,  was  wont  to 
derive  his  origin  from  the  ancient  family  of  Tinto,  of  that  ilk, 
in  Lanarkshire,  and  occasionally  hinted  that  he  had  somewhat 
derogated  from  his  gentle  blood  in  using  the  pencil  for  his 
principal  means  of  support.  But  if  Dick's  pedigree  was  cor- 
rect, some  of  his  ancestors  must  have  suffered  a  more  heavy 
declension,  since  the  good  man  his  father  executed  the  neces- 
sary, and,  I  trust,  the  honest,  but  certainly  not  very  distin- 
guished, employment  of  tailor  in  ordinary  to  the  village  of 
Langdirdum  in  the  west.  Under  his  humble  roof  was  Eichard 
born,  and  to  his  father's  humble  trade  was  Richard,  greatly 
contrary  to  his  inclination,  early  indentured.  Old  Mr.  Tinto 
had,  however,  no  reason  to  congratulate  himself  upon  having 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  3 

compelled  the  youthful  genius  of  his  sou  to  forsake  its  natural 
bent.  He  fared  like  the  schoolboy  who  attempts  to  stop  with 
his  finger  tlie  spout  of  a  water  cistern,  while  the  stream,  exas- 
perated at  this  compression,  escapes  by  a  thousand  uncalcu- 
lated  spirits,  and  wets  him  all  over  for  his  pains.  Even  so 
fared  the  senior  Tinto,  when  his  hopeful  apprentice  not  only 
exhausted  all  the  chalk  in  making  sketches  upon  the  shop- 
board,  but  even  executed  several  caricatures  of  his  father's 
best  customers,  who  began  loudly  to  murmur,  that  it  was  too 
hard  to  have  their  persons  deformed  by  the  vestments  of  the 
father,  and  to  be  at  the  same  time  turned  into  ridicule  by  the 
pencil  of  the  son.  This  led  to  discredit  and  loss  of  practice, 
until  the  old  tailor,  yielding  to  destiny  and  to  the  entreaties  of 
his  son,  permitted  him  to  attempt  his  fortune  in  a  line  for 
which  he  was  better  qualified. 

There  was  about  this  time,  in  the  village  of  Langdirdum, 
a  peripatetic  brother  of  the  brush,  who  exercised  his  vocation 
sub  Jovefrigido,  the  object  of  admiration  to  all  the  boys  of 
the  village,  but  especially  to  Dick  Tinto.  The  age  had  not 
yet  adopted,  among  other  unworthy  retrenchments,  that  illib- 
eral measure  of  economy  which,  supplying  by  written  char- 
acters tlie  lack  of  symbolical  representation,  closes  one  open 
and  easily  accessible  avenue  of  instruction  and  emolument 
against  the  students  of  the  fine  arts.  It  was  not  yet  per- 
mitted to  write  upon  the  plastered  doorway  of  an  alehouse, 
or  the  suspended  sign  of  an  inn,  "The  Old  Magpie,"  or 
"  The  Saracen's  Head,"  substituting  that  cold  description  for 
the  lively  effigies  of  the  plumed  chatterer,  or  the  turbaned 
frown  of  the  terrific  soldan.  That  early  and  more  simple  age 
considered  alike  the  necessities  of  all  ranks,  and  depicted  the 
symbols  of  good  cheer  so  as  to  be  obvious  to  all  capacities  ; 
well  Judging  that  a  man  who  could  not  read  a  syllable  might 
nevertheless  love  a  pot  of  good  ale  as  well  as  his  better-edu- 
cate 1  neigiibors,  or  even  as  the  parson  himself.  Acting  uj)on 
this  liberal  principle,  publicans  as  yet  hung  forth  the  painted 
emblems  of  their  calling,  and  sign-painters,  if  they  seldom 
feasted,  did  not  at  least  absolutely  starve. 

To  a  worthy  of  this  decayed  profession,  as  we  have  already 
intimated,  Dick  Tinto  became  an  assistant ;  and  thus,  as  is 
not  unusual  among  heaven-born  geniuses  in  this  department 
of  the  fine  arts,  began  to  paint  before  he  had  any  notion  of 
drawing. 

His  talent  for  observing  nature  soon  induced  him  to  rec- 
tify the  errors,  and  soar  above  the  instructions,  of  his 
teacher.     He  particularly  shone  in  painting  horses,  that  being 


4  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

a  favorite  sign  in  the  Scottish  villages  ;  and,  in  tracing  his 
progress,  it  is  beautiful  to  observe  how  by  degrees  he  learned 
to  shorten  the  backs  and  prolong  the  legs  of  these  noble  ani- 
mals, until  they  came  to  look  less  like  crocodiles,  and  more 
like  nags.  Detraction,  which  always  pursues  merit  with 
strides  proportioned  to  its  advancement,  has  indeed  alleged 
that  Dick  once  upon  a  time  painted  a  horse  with  five  legs  in- 
stead of  four.  1  might  have  rested  his  defence  upon  the 
license  allowed  to  that  branch  of  his  profession,  which,  as  it 
permits  all  sorts  of  singular  and  irregular  combinations,  may 
be  allowed  to  extend  itself  so  far  as  to  bestow  a  limb  super- 
numerary on  a  favorite  subject.  But  the  cause  of  a  deceased 
friend  is  sacred  ;  and  I  disdain  to  bottom  it  so  superficially. 
I  have  visited  the  sign  in  question,  which  yet  swings  exalted 
in  the  village  of  Langdirdum  ;  and  I  am  ready  to  depone 
upon  oath  that  what  has  been  idly  mistaken  or  misrepre- 
sented as  being  the  fifth  leg  of  the  horse,  is,  in  fact,  the  tail 
of  that  quadruped,  and,  considered  with  reference  to  the  pos- 
ture in  which  he  is  delineated,  forms  a  circumstance  in- 
troduced and  managed  with  great  and  successful,  though 
daring,  art.  The  nag  being  represented  in  a  rampant  or  rear- 
ing posture,  the  tail,  which  is  prolonged  till  it  touches  the 
ground,  appears  to  form  a  point  d'ajjpui,  and  gives  the  firm- 
ness of  a  tripod  to  the  figure,  without  which  it  would  be 
difficult  to  conceive,  placed  as  the  feet  are,  how  the  courser 
could  maintain  his  ground  without  tumbling  backwards. 
This  bold  conception  has  fortunately  fallen  into  the  custody 
of  one  by  whom  it  is  duly  valued  ;  for,  when  Dick,  in  his 
more  advanced  state  of  proficiency,  became  dubious  of  the 
propriety  of  so  daring  a  deviation  from  the  established  rules 
of  art,  and  was  desirous  to  execute  a  picture  of  the  publican 
himself  in  exchange  for  this  Juvenile  production,  the  cour- 
teous offer  was  declined  by  his  judicious  employer,  who  had 
observed,  it  seems,  that  when  his  ale  failed  to  do  its  duty  in 
conciliating  his  guests,  one  glance  at  his  sign  was  sure  to  put 
them  in  good  humor. 

It  would  be  foreign  to  my  present  purpose  to  trace  the 
steps  by  which  Dick  Tinto  improved  his  touch,  and  corrected, 
by  the  rules  of  art,  the  luxuriance  of  a  fervid  imagination. 
The  scales  fell  from  his  eyes  on  viewing  the  sketches  of  a  con- 
temporary, the  Scottish  Teniers,  as  Wilkie  has  been  deservedly 
styled.  He  threw  down  the  brush,  took  up  the  crayons,  and, 
amid  hunger  and  toil,  and  suspense  and  uncertainty,  pur- 
sued the  path  of  his  profession  under  better  auspices  than 
those  of  his  original  master.     Still  the  first  rude  emanations 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  5 

of  his  genius,  like  the  nursery  rhymes  of  Pope,  could  these 
be  recovered,  will  be  dear  to  the  companions  of  Dick  Tinto's 
youth.  There  is  a  tankard  and  gridiron  painted  over  the 
door  of  an  obscure  change-house  in  tlie  Back  Wynd  of  Gan- 
dercleugh But  I  feel  I  must  tear  myself  from  the  sub- 
ject, or  dwell  on  it  too  long. 

Amid  his  wants  and  struggles,  Dick  Tinto  had  recourse, 
like  his  brethren,  to  levying  that  tax  upon  the  vanity  of  man- 
kind which  he  could  not  extract  from  their  taste  and  liberality 
— in  a  word,  he  painted  portraits.  It  was  in  this  more  ad- 
vanced state  of  proficiency,  when  Dick  had  soared  above  his 
original  line  of  business,  and  highly  disdained  any  allusion  to 
it,  that,  after  having  been  estranged  for  several  years,  we 
again  met  in  the  village  of  Gandercleugh,  I  holding  my 
present  situation,  and  Dick  painting  copies  of  the  human 
face  divine  at  a  guinea  per  head.  This  was  a  small  premium, 
yet,  in  the  first  burst  of  business,  it  more  than  sufficed  for  all 
Dick's  moderate  wants ;  so  that  he  occupied  an  apartment  at 
the  Wallace  Inn,  cracked  his  jest  with  impunity  even  upon 
mine  host  himself,  and  lived  in  respect  and  observance  with 
the  chambermaid,  hostler,  and  waiter. 

Those  halcyon  days  were  too  serene  to  last  long.  When 
his  honor  the  Laird  of  Gandercleugh,  with  his  wife  and  three 
daiigliters,  the  minister,  the  ganger,  mine  esteemed  patron 
Mr.  Jedediah  Cleishbotham,  and  some  round  dozen  of  the 
feuars  and  farmers,  had  been  consigned  to  immortality  by 
Tinto's  brush,  custom  began  to  slacken,  and  it  was  impossible 
to  wring  more  than  crowns  and  half-crowns  from  the  hard 
hands  of  the  peasants  whose  ambition  led  them  to  Dick's 
paintiug-room. 

Still,  though  the  horizon  was  overclouded,  no  storm  for 
some  time  ensued.  Mine  host  had  Christian  faith  with  a 
lodger  who  had  been  a  good  paymaster  as  long  as  he  had  the 
means.  And  from  a  portrait  of  our  landlord  himself,  grouped 
with  his  wife  and  daughters,  in  the  style  of  Eubens,  which 
suddenly  appeared  in  the  best  parlor,  it  was  evident  that  Dick 
had  found  some  mode  of  bartering  art  for  the  necessaries  of 
life. 

Nothing,  however,  is  more  precarioits  than  resources  of  this 
nature.  It  was  observed  that  Dick  became  in  his  turn  the 
whetstone  of  mine  host's  wit,  without  venturing  eitlier  at  de- 
fence or  retaliation  ;  that  his  easel  was  transferred  to  a  gar- 
ret-room, in  which  there  was  scarce  space  for  it  to  stand 
upright ;  and  that  he  no  longer  ventured  to  join  the  weekly 
club,  of  which  ke  had  been  once  the  life  and  soul.     In  short. 


6  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

Dick  Tinto's  friends  feared  that  he  had  acted  like  the  animal 
called  the  sloth,  which,  having  eaten  up  the  last  green  leaf 
upon  the  tree  where  it  has  established  itself,  ends  by  tumbling 
down  from  the  top,  and  dying  of  inanition.  I  ventured  to 
hint  this  to  Dick,  recommended  his  transferring  the  exercise 
of  his  inestimable  talent  to  some  other  sphere,  and  forsaking 
the  common  which  he  miglit  be  said  to  have  eaten  bare. 

"  There  is  an  obstacle  to  my  change  of  residence,"  said 
my  friend,  grasping  my  hand  with  a  look  of  solemnity. 

"  A  bill  due  to  my  landlord,  I  am  afraid  ?  "  replied  I,  with 
heartfelt  sympathy  ;  "^  if  any  part  of  my  slender  means  can 
assist  in  this  emergence " 

"^  No,  by  the  soul  of  Sir  Joshua  ! ''  answered  the  generous 
youth,  "  I  will  never  involve  a  friend  in  the  consequences  of 
my  own  misfortune.  There  is  a  mode  by  which  I  can  regain 
my  libert}^ ;  and  to  creep  even  through  a  common  sewer  is 
better  than  to  remain  in  pi'ison," 

I  did  not  perfectly  understand. what  my  friend  meant.  The 
muse  of  painting  appeared  to  have  failed  him,  and  what  other 
goddess  he  could  invoke  in  his  distress  was  a  mystery  to  me. 
We  parted,  however,  without  farther  explanation,  and  I  did 
not  again  see  him  until  three  days  after,  when  he  summoned 
me  to  partake  of  the  "  foy  "  with  which  his  landlord  proj)osed 
to  regale  him  ere  his  departure  for  Edinburgh. 

I  found  Dick  in  high  sjDirits,  whistling  while  he  buckled 
the  small  knapsack  which  contained  his  colors,  brushes,  pa- 
lettes, and  clean  shirt.  That  he  j)arted  on  the  best  terms  with 
mine  host  was  obvious  from  the  cold  beef  set  forth  in  the  low 
parlor,  flanked  by  two  mugs  of  admirable  brown  stout ;  and 
I  own  my  curiosity  was  excited  concerning  the  means  through 
which  the  face  of  my  friend's  affairs  had  been  so  suddenly 
improved.  I  did  not  suspect  Dick  of  dealing  with  the  devil, 
and  by  what  earthly  means  he  had  extricated  himself  thus 
happily  I  was  at  a  total  loss  to  conjecture. 

He  perceived  my  curiosity,  and  took  me  by  the  hand. 
''My  friend,"  he  said,  "fain  would  I  conceal,  even  from  you, 
the  degradation  to  which  it  has  been  necessary  to  submit,  in 
order  to  accomplish  an  honorable  retreat  from  Gandercleugh. 
But  what  avails  attempting  to  conceal  that  which  must  needs 
betray  itself  even  by  its  superior  excellence  ?  All  the  village 
— all  the  parish — all  the  world — will  soon  discover  to  what 
poverty  has  reduced  Richard  Tinto." 

A  sudden  thouglit  here  struck  me.  I  had  observed  that 
our  landlord  wore,  on  that  memorable  morning,  a  pair  of  bran 
new  velveteens,  instead  of  his  ancient  thicksets. 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  7 

''"What,"  said  I,  drawing  my  right  hand,  with  the  fore- 
finger and  thumb  pressed  together,  nimbly  from  my  right 
haunch  to  my  left  shoulder,  '"you  have  condescended  to  re- 
sume the  paternal  arts  to  which  you  were  first  bred — long 
stitches,  ha,  Dick  ?  " 

He  repelled  this  unlucky  conjecture  with  a  frown  and  a 
pshaw,  indicative  of  indignant  contempt,  and  leading  me  into 
another  room,  showed  me,  resting  against  the  wall,  the  majes- 
tic head  of  Sir  William  Wallace,  grim  as  when  severed  from 
the  trunk  by  the  orders  of  the  felon  Edward. 

The  painting  was  executed  on  boards  of  a  substantial 
thickness,  aud  the  top  decorated  with  irons,  for  suspending 
the  honored  effigy  upon  a  signpost. 

''There,"  he  said,  "my  friend,  stands  the  honor  of  Scot- 
land, and  my  shame  ;  yet  not  so — rather  the  shame  of  those 
who,  instead  of  encouraging  art  in  its  proper  sphere,  reduce 
it  to  these  unbecoming  and  unworthy  extremities. " 

I  endeavored  to  smooth  the  ruffled  feelings  of  my  misused 
and  indignant  friend.  I  reminded  him  that  he  ought  not, 
like  the  stag  in  the  fable,  to  despise  the  quality  which  had 
extricated  him  from  difficulties,  in  which  his  talents,  as  a 
portrait  or  landscape  painter,  had  been  found  unavailing. 
Above  all,  I  praised  the  execution,  as  Avell  as  conception,  of  his 
painting,  and  reminded  him  that,  far  from  feeling  dishonored 
by  so  superb  a  specimen  of  his  talents  being  exposed  to  the 
general  view  of  the  public,  he  ought  rather  to  congratulate 
himself  upon  the  agumentation  of  his  celebrity  to  which  its 
public  exhibition  must  necessarily  give  rise. 

"  You  are  right,  my  friend — you  are  right,"  replied  poor 
Dick,  his  eye  kindling  with  enthusiasm  ;  "  why  should  I  shun 
the  name  of  an — an — [he  hesitated  for  a  phrase] — an  out-of- 
doors  artist  ?  Hogarth  has  introduced  himself  in  that  char- 
acter in  one  of  his  best  engravings  ;  Domenichino,  or  somebody 
else,  in  ancient  times,  Morland  in  our  own,  have  exercised 
their  talents  in  this  manner.  And  wherefore  limit  to  the  rich 
and  higher  classes  alone  the  delight  which  the  exhibition  of 
works  of  art  is  calculated  to  inspire  into  all  classes  ?  Statues 
are  placed  in  the  open  air,  why  should  Painting  be  more  nig- 
gardly in  displaying  her  masterpieces  than  her  sister  Sculpture  ? 
And  yet,  my  friend,  we  must  part  suddenly  ;  the  carpenter  is 
coming  in  an  hour  to  put  up  the — the  emblem  ;  and  truly,  with 
all  my  philosophy,  and  your  consolatory  encouragement  to 
boot,  I  would  rather  wish  to  leave  Gandercleugh  before  that 
operation  commences." 

We  partook  of  our  genial  host's  parting  banquet,  and  I 


8  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

escorted  Dick  on  his  walk  to  Edinburgh.  We  parted  about  a 
mile  from  the  village,  just  as  we  heard  the  distant  cheer  of  the 
boys  which  accompanied  the  mounting  of  the  new  symbol  of 
the  Wallace  Head.  Dick  Tinto  mended  his  pace  to  get  out  of 
hearing,  so  little  had  either  early  practice  or  recent  philosophy 
reconciled  him  to  the  character  of  a  sign-painter. 

In  Edinburgh,  Dick's  talents  were  discovered  and  appreci- 
ated, and  he  received  dinners  and  hints  from  several  distin- 
guished judges  of  the  fine  arts.  But  these  gentlemen  dispensed 
their  criticism  more  willingly  than  their  cash,  and  Dick  thought 
he  needed  cash  more  than  criticism.  He  therefore  sought 
London,  the  universal  mart  of  talent,  and  where,  as  is  usual 
in  general  marts  of  most  descriptions,  much  more  of  each 
commodity  is  exposed  to  sale  than  can  ever  find  purchasers. 

Dick,  who,  in  serious  earnest,  was  supposed  to  have  con- 
siderable natural  talents  for  his  profession,  and  whose  vain 
and  sanguine  disposition  never  permitted  him  to  doubt  for  a 
moment  of  ultimate  success,  threw  himself  headlong  into  the 
crowd  which  jostled  and  struggled  for  notice  and  preferment. 
He  elbowed  others,  and  was  elbowed  himself  ;  and  finally,  by 
dint  of  intrepidity,  fought  his  way  into  some  notice,  painted 
for  the  prize  at  the  Institution,  had  pictures  at  the  exhibi- 
tion at  Somerset  House,  and  damned  the  hanging  committee. 
But  poor  Dick  was  doomed  to  lose  the  field  he  fought  so  gal- 
lantly. In  the  fine  arts,  there  is  scarce  an  alternative  betwixt 
distinguished  success  and  absolute  failure ;  and  as  Dick's 
zeal  and  industry  were  unable  to  insure  the  first,  he  fell  into 
the  distresses  which,  in  his  condition,  were  the  natural  conse- 
quences of  the  latter  alternative.  He  was  for  a  time  patron- 
ized by  one  or  two  of  those  judicious  persons  who  make  a 
virtue  of  being  singular,  and  of  pitching  their  own  opinions 
against  those  of  the  world  in  matters  of  taste  and  criticism. 
But  they  soon  tired  of  poor  Tinto,  and  laid  him  down  as  a 
load,  upon  the  principle  on  which  a  spoiled  child  throws  away 
its  plaything.  Misery,  I  fear,  took  him  up,  and  accompanied 
him  to  a  premature  grave,  to  which  he  was  carried  from  an 
obscure  lodging  in  Swallow  Street,  where  he  had  been  dunned 
by  his  landlady  within  doors,  and  watched  by  bailiffs  without, 
until  death  came  to  his  relief.  A  corner  of  the  Morning 
Post  noticed  his  death,  generously  adding,  that  his  manner 
displayed  considerable  genius,  though  his  style  was  rather 
sketchy  ;  and  referred  to  an  advertisement,  which  announced 
that  Mr.  Varnish,  a  well-known  printseller,  had  still  on  hand 
a  very  few  drawings  and  paintings  by  Richard  Tinto,  Esquire, 
which  those  of  the  nobility  and  gentry  who  might  wish  to 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  9 

complete  their  collections  of  modern  art  were  invited  to  visit 
without  delay.  So  ended  Dick  Tinto  !  a  lamentable  proof  of 
the  great  truth,  that  in  the  tine  arts  mediocrity  is  not  per- 
mitted, and  that  he  who  cannot  ascend  to  the  very  top  of  the 
ladder  will  do  well  not  to  put  his  foot  upon  it  at  all. 

The  memory  of  Tinto  is  dear  to  me,  from  the  recollection 
of  the  many  conversations  which  we  have  had  together,  most  of 
them  turning  upon  my  present  task.  He  was  deliglited  with 
my  progress,  and  talked  of  an  ornamented  and  illustrated 
edition,  witli  heads,  vignettes,  and  culs  de  lampe,  all  to  be 
designed  by  his  own  patriotic  and  friendly  pencil.  He  pre- 
vailed upon  an  old  sergeant  of  invalids  to  sit  to  him  in  the 
character  of  Bothwell,  the  lifeguard^s-man  of  Charles  the 
Second,  and  the  bellman  of  Gandercleugh  in  that  of  David 
Deans,  liut  Avhile  he  thus  proposed  to  unite  his  own  powers 
with  mine  for  the  illustration  of  these  narratives,  he  mixed 
many  a  dose  of  salutary  criticism  with  the  panegyrics  which 
my  composition  was  at  times  so  fortunate  as  to  call  forth. 

"  Your  characters,"  he  said,  "  my  dear  Pattieson,  make 
too  much  use  of  the  goh  hox  ;  they  patter  too  much  [an  ele- 
gant phraseology  which  Dick  had  learned  while  painting  the 
scenes  of  an  itinerant  company  of  players]  ;  there  is  nothing  in 
whole  pages  but  mere  chat  and  dialogue." 

"  The  ancient  philosopher,"  said  I  in  reply,  "  was  wont 
to  say,  '  Speak,  that  I  may  know  thee  ; '  and  how  is  it  possi- 
ble for  an  author  to  introduce  his  personce  dramatis  to  his 
readers  in  a  more  interesting  and  effectual  manner  than  by 
the  dialogue  in  which  each  is  represented  as  supporting  his 
own  appropriate  character  ?" 

"  It  is  a  false  conclusion,"  said  Tinto  ;  "  I  hate  it,  Peter, 
as  I  hate  an  unfilled  can.  I  will  grant  you,  indeed,  that 
speech  is  a  faculty  of  some  value  in  the  intercourse  of  human 
affairs,  and  I  will  not  even  insist  on  the  doctrine  of  that 
Pythagorean  toper,  who  was  of  opinion  that  over  a  bottle 
speaking  spoiled  conversation.  But  I  will  not  allow  that  a 
professor  of  the  fine  arts  has  occasion  to  embody  the  idea  of 
his  scene  in  language,  in  order  to  impress  upon  the  reader 
its  reality  and  its  effect.  On  the  contrary,  I  will  be  judged 
by  most  of  your  readers,  Peter,  should  these  tales  ever  become 
public,  whether  you  have  not  given  us  a  page  of  talk  for  every 
single  idea  which  two  words  might  have  communicated, 
while  the  posture,  and  manner,  and  incident,  accurately 
drawn,  and  brought  out  by  appropriate  coloring,  would  have 
preserved  all  that  was  worthy  of  preservation,  and  saved  these 
everlasting  '  said  he's '  and  '  said  she's,'  with  which  it  has 
been  your  pleasure  to  encumber  your  pages.'* 


10  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

I  replied.  "  That  lie  confounded  tlie  operations  of  the  pen- 
cil and  the  pen  ;  that  the  serene  and  silent  art,  as  painting 
has  been  called  by  one  of  our  first  living  poets,  necessarily  ap- 
pealed to  the  eye,  because  it  had  not  the  organs  for  addressing 
the  ear  ;  whereas  poetry,  or  that  species  of  composition  which 
approached  to  it,  lay  under  the  necessity  of  doing  absolutely 
the  reverse,  and  addressed  itself  to  the  ear,  for  the  purpose  of 
exciting  that  interest  which  it  could  not  attain  through  the 
medium  of  the  eye/' 

Dick  was  not  a  whit  staggered  by  my  argument,  which  lie 
contended  was  founded  on  misrepresentation.  "Description," 
he  said,  "  was  to  the  author  of  a  romance  exactly  what  draw- 
ing and  tinting  were  to  a  painter  :  words  were  his  colors,  and, 
if  properly  employed,  they  could  not  fail  to  place  the  scene 
which  he  wished  to  conjure  upas  effectually  before  the  mind's 
eye  as  the  tablet  or  canvas  presents  it  to  the  bodily  organ.  The 
same  rules," he  contended,  "applied  to  both,  and  an  exuber- 
ance of  dialogue,  in  the  form  er  case,  was  a  verbose  and  labor- 
ious mode  of  composition  which  went  to  confound  the  proper 
art  of  fictitious  narrative  with  that  of  the  drama,  a  widely 
different  species  of  composition,  of  which  dialogue  was  the 
very  essence,  because  all,  excepting  the  language  to  be  made 
use  of,  was  presented  to  the  eye  by  the  dresses,  and  persons, 
and  actions  of  the  performers  upon  the  stage.  But  as  noth- 
ing," said  Dick,  "can  be  more  dull  than  a  long  narrative 
written  upon  the  plan  of  a  drama,  so  where  you  have  ap- 
proached most  near  to  that  species  of  composition,  by  in- 
dulging in  prolonged  scenes  of  mere  conversation,  the  course 
of  your  story  has  become  chill  and  constrained,  and  you  have 
lost  the  power  of  arresting  the  attention  and  exciting  the 
imagination,  in  which  uj^on  other  occasions  you  may  be  con- 
sidered as  having  succeeded  tolerably  well." 

I  made  my  bow  in  requital  of  the  compliment,  which  was 
probably  thrown  in  by  way  of  |j/aceJo,  and  expressed  myself 
Avilling  at  least  to  make  one  trial  of  a  more  straightforward 
style  of  composition,  in  which  my  actors  should  do  more,  and 
say  less,  than  in  my  former  attempts  of  this  kind.  Dick 
gave  me  a  patrorazing  and  approving  nod,  and  observed  that, 
finding  me  so  docile,  he  would  communicate,  for  the  benefit 
of  my  muse,  a  subject  which  he  had  studied  with  a  view  to 
his  own  art. 

"The  story,"  he  said,  "was,  by  tradition,  affirmed  to  be 
truth,  although,  as  upwards  of  a  hundred  years  had  passed 
away  since  the  events  took  place,  some  doubts  upon  the  ac- 
curacy of  all  the  particulars  might  be  reasonably  entertained." 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  11 

When  Dick  Tinto  had  thus  sj'^ken,  he  rummaged  his 
portfolio  for  the  sketch  from  whicli  he  proposed  one  day  to 
execute  a  picture  of  fourteen  feet  by  eight.  The  sketch, 
which  was  cleverly  executed,  to  use  the  appropriate 
phrase,  represented  an  ancient  hall,  fitted  up  and  furnished 
in  what  we  now  call  the  taste  of  Queen  Elizabeth's  age.  The 
light,  admitted  from  the  upper  part  of  a  high  casement,  fell 
upon  a  female  figure  of  exquisite  beauty,  who,  in  an  attitude 
of  speechless  terror,  appeared  to  watch  the  issue  of  a  debate 
betwixt  two  other  persons.  The  one  was  a  young  man,  in  the 
Vandyke  dress  common  to  the  time  of  Charles  I.,  who,  with 
an  air  of  indignant  pride,  testified  by  the  manner  in  which 
he  raised  his  head  and  extended  his  arm,  seemed  to  be  urging 
a  claim  of  right,  rather  than  of  favor,  to  a  lady  whose  age, 
and  some  resemblance  in  their  features,  pointed  her  out  as 
the  mother  of  the  younger  female,  and  who  appeared  to  listen 
with  a  mixture  of  displeasure  and  impatience. 

Tinto  produced  his  sketch  with  an  air  of  mysterious  tri- 
umph, and  gazed  on  it  as  a  fond  parent  looks  upon  a  hopeful 
child,  while  he  anticipates  the  future  figure  he  is  to  make  in 
the  world,  and  the  height  to  which  he  will  raise  the  honor  of 
his  family.  He  held  it  at  arm's  length  from  me — he  held  it 
closer — he  placed  it  upon  the  cop  of  a  chest  of  drawers — 
closed  the  lower  shutters  of  the  casement,  to  adjust  a  down- 
ward and  favorable  light — fell  back  to  the  due  distance, 
dragging  me  after  him — shaded  his  face  with  his  hand,  as  if 
to  exclude  all  but  the  favorite  object — and  ended  by  spoiling 
a  child's  copy-book,  which  he  rolled  up  so  as  to  serve  for  the 
darkened  tube  of  an  amateur.  I  fancy  my  expressions  of 
enthusiasm  had  not  been  in  proportion  to  his  own,  for  he 
presently  exclaimed  with  veliemence,  "  Mr.  Pattieson,  I  used 
to  think  you  had  an  eye  in  your  head." 

I  vindicated  my  claim  to  the  usual  allowance  of  visual 
organs. 

"  Yet,  on  my  honor,"  said  Dick,  ''I  would  swear  you  had 
been  born  blind,  since  you  have  failed  at  the  first  glance  to 
discover  the  subject  and  meaning  of  that  sketch.  I  do  not 
mean  to  praise  my  own  performance,  I  leave  these  arts  to 
others;  I  am  sensible  of  my  deficiencies,  conscious  that  my 
drawing  and  coloring  may  be  improved  by  the  time  I  intend 
to  dedicate  to  the  art.  But  the  conception — the  expression 
— the  positions — these  tell  the  story  to  every  one  who  looks 
at  the  sketch  ;  and  if  I  can  finish  tlie  picture  without  diminu- 
tion of  the  original  conception,  the  name  of  Tinto  shall  no 
more  be  smothered  by  the  mists  of  envy  and  intrigue. " 


12  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

I  replied,  "  That  I  admired  the  sketch  exceedingly ;  but 
that  to  understand  its  full  merit,  I  felt  it  absolutely  necessary 
to  be  informed  of  the  subject/' 

''  That  is  the  very  thing  I  complain  of/'  answered  Tinto ; 
"you  have  accustomed  yourself  so  much  to  these  creeping 
twilight  details  of  yours,  that  you  are  become  incapable  of 
receiving  that  instant  and  vivid  flash  of  conviction  which 
darts  on  the  mind  from  seeing  tlie  happy  and  expressive  com- 
binations of  a  single  scene,  and  which  gathers  from  the  po- 
sition, attitude,  and  countenance  of  the  moment,  not  only  the 
history  of  the  past  lives  of  the  personages  represented,  and 
the  nature  of  the  business  on  which  they  are  immediately  en- 
gaged, but  lifts  even  the  veil  of  futurity,  and  affords  a  shrewd 
guess  at  their  future  fortunes.'' 

"  In  that  case,"  replied  I,  "Painting  excels  the  ape  of  the 
renowned  Gines  de  Passamonte,  which  only  meddled  with  the 
past  and  the  present ;  nay,  she  excels  that  very  Nature  who 
affords  her  subjects ;  for  I  protest  to  you,  Dick,  that  were  I 
permitted  to  peep  into  that  Elizabeth-chamber,  and  see  the 
persons  you  have  sketched  conversing  in  flesh  and  blood,  I 
should  not  be  a  jot  nearer  guessing  the  nature  of  their  busi- 
ness than  I  am  at  this  moment  while  looking  at  your  sketch. 
Only  generally,  from  the  languishing  look  of  the  young  lady, 
and  the  care  you  have  taken  to  present  a  very  handsome  leg 
on  the  part  of  the  gentleman,  I  presume  there  is  some  refer- 
ence to  a  love  affair  between  them."' 

"Do  you  really  presume  to  form  such  a  bold  conjecture  ?" 
said  Tinto.  "And  the  indignant  earnestness  with  which  you 
see  the  man  urge  his  suit,  the  unresisting  and  passive  despair 
of  the  younger  female,  the  stern  air  of  inflexible  determination 
in  the  elder  woman,  whose  looks  express  at  once  consciousness 
that  she  is  acting  wrong  and  a  firm  determination  to  persist 
in  the  course  slie  has  adopted " 

"If  her  looks  express  all  this,  my  dear  Tinto,"  replied  I, 
interrupting  him,  "your  pencil  rivals  the  dramatic  art  of 
Mr.  Puff  in  The  Critic,  who  crammed  a  whole  complicated 
sentence  into  the  expressive  shake  of  Lord  Burleigh's  head." 

"My good  friend,  Peter."  replied  Tinto,  "I  observe  you 
are  perfectly  incorrigible  ;  however,  I  have  compassion  on 
your  dulness,  and  am  unwilling  you  should  be  deprived  of 
the  pleasure  of  understanding  my  picture,  and  of  gaining,  at 
the  same  tiire,  a  subject  for  your  own  pen.  You  must  know 
then,  last  summer,  while  I  was  taking  sketches  on  the  coast 
of  East  Lothian  and  Berwickshire,  I  was  seduced  into  the 
mountains  of  Lammermoor  by  the  account  I  received  of  some 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  13 

remains  of  antiquity  in  that  district.  Those  witli  whicli  I  was 
most  struck  were  tlie  ruins  of  an  ancient  castle  in  which  that 
Elizabeth-chamber,  as  you  call  it,  once  existed.  I  resided  for 
two  or  three  days  at  a  farmhouse  in  the  neighborhood,  where 
the  aged  goodwife  was  well  acquainted  with  the  history  of  the 
castle,  and  the  erents  which  had  taken  place  in  it.  One  of 
these  was  of  a  nature  so  interesting  and  singular,  that  my  at- 
tention was  divided  between  my  wish  to  draw  the  old  ruins  in 
landscape,  and  to  represent,  in  a  history-piece,  the  singular 
events  which  have  taken  place  in  it.  Here  are  my  notes  of 
the  tale,"  said  poor  Dick,  handing  a  parcel  of  loose  scraps, 
partly  scratched  over  with  his  pencil,  partly  with  his  pen, 
where  outlines  of  caricatures,  sketches  of  turrets,  mills,  old 
gables,  and  dovecots,  disputed  the  ground  with  his  written 
memoranda. 

I  proceeded,  however,  to  decipher  the  substance  of  the 
manuscript  as  well  as  I  coiild,  and  wove  it  into  the  following 
Tale,  in  which,  following  in  part,  though  not  entirely,  my 
friend  Tinto's  advice,  I  endeavored  to  render  my  narrative 
rather  descriptive  than  dramatic.  My  favorite  propensity, 
however,  has  at  times  overcome  me,  and  my  persons,  like 
many  others  in  this  talking  world,  speak  now  and  then  a 
great  deal  more  than  they  act.  * 

*  See  Lockhart's  Life  of  Scott,  vol.  vi.,  p.  6«,  •tc. 


CHAPTER  II 

Well,  lords,  we  have  not  got  that  which  we  have  ; 
'Tis  not  enough  our  foes  are  this  time  fled, 
Being  opposites  of  such  repairing  nature, 

Henry  VI.,  Part  II. 

Its  the  gorge  of  a  pass  or  monntain  glen,  ascending  from  the 
fertile  plains  of  East  Lothian,  there  stood  in  former  times 
an  extensive  castle,  of  which  only  the  ruins  are  now  visible. 
Its  ancient  proprietors  were  a  race  of  powerful  and  warlike 
barons,  who  bore  the  same  name  with  the  castle  itself,  which 
was  Eavenswood.  Their  line  extended  to  a  remote  period  of 
antiquity,  and  they  had  intermarried  with  the  Douglasses, 
Humes,  Swintons,  Hays,  and  other  families  of  power  and  dis- 
tinction in  the  same  country.  Their  history  was  '  frequently 
involved  in  that  of  Scotland  itself,  in  whose  annals  their  feats 
are  recorded.  The  Castle  of  Ravenswood,  occupying,  and  in 
some  measure  commanding,  a  pass  betwixt  Berwickshire,  or 
the  Merse,  as  the  southeastern  province  of  Scotland  is  termed, 
and  the  Lothians,  was  of  importance  both  in  times  of  foreign 
war  and  domestic  discord.  It  was  frequently  besieged  with 
ardor,  and  defended  Vt^ith  obstinacy,  and,  of  course,  its  owners 
played  a  conspicuous  part  in  story.  But  their  house  had  its 
revolutions,  like  all  sublunary  things  ;  it  became  greatly  de- 
clined from  its  splendor  about  the  middle  of  the  17th  century  ; 
and  towards  the  period  of  the  Revolution,  the  last  proprietor 
of  Ravenswood  Castle  saw  himself  compelled  to  part  with  the 
ancient  family  seat,  and  to  remove  himself  to  a  lonely  and 
sea-beaten  tower,  which,  situated  on  the  bleak  shores  between 
St.  Abb's  Head  and  the  village  of  Eyemouth,  looked  out  on 
the  lonely  and  boisterous  German  Ocean.  A  black  domain 
of  wild  pasture-land  surrounded  their  new  residence,  and 
formed  the  remains  of  their  property. 

Lord  Ravenswood,  the  heir  of  this  ruined  family,  was  far 
from  bending  his  mind  to  his  new  condition  of  life.  In  the 
civil  war  of  1689  he  had  espoused  the  sinking  side,  and  al- 
though he  had  escaped  without  the  forfeiture  of  life  or  land, 
his  blood  had  been  attainted,  and  his  title  abolished.  He  was 
now  called  Lord  Ravenswood  only  in  courtesy. 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  15 

This  forfeited  nobleman  inherited  the  pride  and  turbu- 
lence, though  not  the  fortune,  of  his  house,  and,  as  he  im- 
puted the  final  declension  of  his  family  to  a  particular 
individual,  he  honored  that  person  with  his  full  portion  of 
hatred.  This  was  the  very  man  who  had  now  become,  by 
purchase,  proprietor  of  Ravenswood,  and  the  domains  of 
which  the  heir  of  the  house  now  stood  dispossessed.  He  was 
descended  of  a  family  much  less  ancient  than  that  of  Lord 
Ravenswood,  and  which  had  only  risen  to  wealth  and  politi- 
cal importance  during  the  great  civil  wars.  He  himself  had 
been  bred  to  tlie  bar,  and  had  held  high  offices  in  the  state, 
maintaining  through  life  the  character  of  a  skilful  fisher  in 
the  troubled  waters  of  a  state  divided  by  factions,  and  gov- 
erned by  delegated  authority  ;  and  of  one  who  contrived  to 
amass  considerable  sums  of  money  in  a  country  where  there 
was  but  little  to  be  gathered,  and  who  equally  knew  the  value 
of  wealth  and  the  various  means  of  augmenting  it  and  using 
it  as  an  engine  of  increasing  his  power  and  influence. 

Thus  qualified  and  gifted,  he  was  a  dangerous  antagonist 
to  the  fierce  and  imprudent  Ravenswood.  Whether  he  had 
given  him  good  cause  for  the  enmity  with  which  the  Baron 
regarded  him,  was  a  poiut  on  which  men  spoke  differently. 
Some  said  tiie  quarrel  arose  merely  from  the  vindictive  spirit 
and  envy  of  Lord  Ravenswood,  who  could  not  patiently  be- 
hold another,  thougli  by  just  and  fair  purchase,  become  the 
proprietor  of  the  estate  and  castle  of  his  forefathers.  But 
the  greater  part  of  the  public,  prone  to  slander  the  wealthy 
in  their  abseuce  as  to  flatter  them  in  their  presence,  held  a 
less  charitable  opinion.  They  said  that  the  Lord  Keeper  (for 
to  this  height  Sir  William  Ashton  had  ascended)  had,  pre- 
vious to  the  final  purchase  of  the  estate  of  Ravenswood,  been 
concerned  in  extensive  pecuniary  transactions  with  the  former 
proprietor  ;  and,  rather  intimating  what  was  probable  than 
affirming  anything  positively,  they  asked  which  party  was 
likely  to  have  the  advantage  in  stating  and  enforcing  the 
claims  arising  out  of  these  complicated  affairs,  and  more  than 
hinted  the  advantages  which  the  cool  lawyer  and  able  poli- 
tician must  necessarily  possess  over  the  hot,  fiery,  and  im- 
prudent character  whom  he  had  involved  in  legal  toils  and 
pecuniary  snares. 

The  character  of  the  times  aggravated  these  suspicions. 
"In  those  days  there  was  no  king  in  Israel."  Since  the  de- 
parture of  James  VI.  to  assume  the  richer  and  more  powerful 
crown  of  England,  there  had  existed  in  Scotland  contending 
parties,  formed  among  the  aristocracy,  by  whom,  as  their  in- 


16  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

trigues  at  the  court  of  St.  James's  chanced  to  prevail,  fe  , 
delegated  powers  of  sovereignty  were  alternately  swayed.  The 
evils  attending  upon  this  system  of  government  resemble  those 
which  afflict  the  tenants  of"  an  Irish  estate,  the  property  of  an 
absentee.  There  was  no  supreme  power,  claiming  and  possess- 
ing a  general  interest  with  the  community  at  large,  to  whom 
the  oppressed  might  appeal  from  subordinate  tyranny,  either 
for  justice  or  for  mercy.  Let  a  monarch  be  as  indolent,  as 
selfish,  as  much  disjDosed  to  arbitrary  power  as  he  will,  still, 
in  a  free  country,  his  own  interests  are  so  clearly  connected 
with  those  of  the  public  at  large,  and  the  evil  consequences  to 
his  own  authority  are  so  obvious  and  imminent  when  a  differ- 
ent course  is  pursued,  that  common  policy,  as  well  as  common 
feeling,  point  to  the  equal  distribution  of  justice,  and  to  the 
establishment  of  the  throne  in  righteousness.  Thus,  even 
sovereigns  remarkable  for  usurpation  and  tyranny  have  been 
found  rigorous  in  the  administration  of  justice  among  their 
subjects,  in  cases  where  their  own  power  and  j)assions  were 
not  compromised. 

It  is  very  different  when  the  powers  of  sovereignty  are 
delegated  to  the  head  of  an  aristocratic  faction,  rivalled  and 
pressed  closely  in  the  race  of  ambition  by  an  adverse  leader. 
His  brief  and  precarious  enjoyment  of  power  must  be  em- 
ployed in  rewarding  his  partisans,  in  extending  his  influence, 
in  oppressing  and  crushing  his  adversaries.  Even  Abou  Has- 
san, the  most  disinterested  of  all  viceroys,  forgot  not,  during 
his  caliphate  of  one  day,  to  send  a  douceur  of  one  thousand 
pieces  of  gold  to  his  own  household ;  and  the  Scottish  vice- 
gerents, raised  to  power  by  the  strength  of  their  faction,  failed 
not  to  embrace  the  same  means  of  rewarding  them. 

The  administration  of  justice,  in  particular,  was  infected 
by  the  most  gross  partiality.  A  case  of  importance  scarcely 
occurred  in  which  there  was  not  some  ground  for  bias  or 
partiality  on  the  part  of  the  judges,  who  were  so  little  able  to 
withstand  the  temptation  that  the  adage,  "  Show  me  the  man, 
and  I  will  show  you  the  law,"  became  as  prevalent  as  it  was 
scandalous.  One  corruption  led  the  way  to  others  still  more 
gross  and  profligate.  The  judge  who  lent  his  sacred  authority 
in  one  case  to  support  a  friend,  and  in  another  to  crush  an 
enemy,  and  whose  decisions  were  founded  on  family  connec- 
tions or  political  relations,  could  not  be  supposed  inaccessible 
to  direct  personal  motives  ;  and  the  purse  of  the  wealthy  was 
too  often  believed  to  be  thrown  into  the  scale  to  weigh  down 
the  cause  of  the  poor  litigant.  The  subordinate  officers  of  the 
law  affected  little  scruple  concerning  bribery.     Pieces  of  plate 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOh  17 

and  bags  of  niouey  were  sent  in  presents  to  the  king's  counsel, 
to  influence  their  conduct,  and  poured  forth,  says  a  contem- 
porary writer,  like  billets  of  wood  upon  their  floors,  without 
even  the  decency  of  concealment. 

In  such  times,  it.was  not  over  uncharitable  to  suppose  that 
the  statesman,  practiced  in  courts  of  law,  and  a  powerful 
member  of  a  triumphant  cabal,  might  find  and  use  means  of 
advantage  over  his  less  skilful  and  less  favored  adversary  ; 
and  if  it  had  been  supposed  that  Sir  William  Ash  ton's  con- 
science had  been  too  delicate  to  profit  by  these  advantages,  it 
was  believed  that  his  ambition  and  desire  of  extending  his 
wealth  and  consequence  found  as  strong  a  stimulus  in  the 
exhortations  of  his  lady  as  the  daring  aim  of  Macbeth  in  the 
days  of  yore. 

Lady  Ashton  was  of  a  family  more  distinguished  than  that 
of  her  lord,  an  advantage  which  she  did  not  fail  to  use  to  the 
uttermost,  in  maintaining  and  extending  her  husband's  influence 
over  others,  and,  unless  she  was  greatly  belied,  her  own  over 
him.  She  had  been  beautiful,  and  was  stately  and  majestic 
in  her  appearance.  Endowed  by  nature  with  strong  powers 
and  violent  passions,  experience  had  taught  her  to  employ  the 
one,  and  to  conceal,  if  not  to  moderate, the  other.  She  was  a 
severe  and  strict  observer  of  the  external  forms,  at  least,  of  de- 
votion ;  her  hospitality  was  splendid,  even  to  ostentation  ;  her 
address  and  manners,  agreeable  to  the  pattern  most  valued  in 
Scotland  at  the  period,  were  grave,  dignified,  and  severely  reg- 
ulated by  the  rules  of  etiquette.  Her  character  had  always 
been  beyond  the  breath  of  slander.  And  yet,  with  all  these 
qualities  to  excite  respect.  Lady  Ashton  was  seldom  mentioned 
in  the  terms  of  love  or  affection.  Interest — the  interest  of 
her  family,  if  not  her  own — seemed  too  obviously  the  motive 
of  her  actions  ;  and  where  this  is  the  case,  the  sharp-judging 
and  malignant  public  are  not  easily  imposed  upon  by  outward 
show.  It  was  seen  and  ascertained  that,  in  her  most  graceful 
courtesies  and  compliments.  Lady  Ashton  no  more  lost  sight 
of  her  object  than  the  falcon  in  his  airy  wheel  turns  his  quick 
eyes  from  his  destined  quarry  ;  and  hence,  something  of  doubt 
and  suspicion  qualified  the  feelings  with  which  her  equals  re- 
ceived her  attentions.  With  her  inferiors  these  feelings  were 
mingled  with  fear  ;  an  impression  useful  to  her  purposes,  to 
far  as  it  enforced  ready  compliance  with  her  requests  and  im- 
plicit obedience  to  her  commands,  but  detrimental,  because 
it  cannot  exist  with  affection  or  regard. 

Even  her  husband,  it  is  said,  upon  whose  fortunes  her 
talents  and  address  had  produced  such  emphatic  influence. 


18  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

regarded  her  with  respectful  awe  rather  than  confiding  attach- 
ment; and  report  said,  there  were  times  wlien  he  considered 
his  grandeur  as  dearly  purchased  at  the  expense  of  domestic 
thraldom.  Of  this,  however,  much  might  be  suspected,  but 
little  could  be  accurately  known  :  Lady  Ashton  regarded  the 
honor  of  her  husband  as  her  own,  and  was  well  aware  how 
much  that  would  sutfer  in  the  public  eye  should  he  appear  a 
vassal  to  his  wife.  In  all  her  arguments  his  opinion  was 
quoted  as  infallible  ;  his  taste  was  appealed  to,  and  his  senti- 
ments received,  with  the  air  of  deference  which  a  dutiful  wife 
might  seem  to  owe  to  a  husband  of  Sir  William  Ashton's  rank 
and  character.  But  there  was  something  under  all  this  Avhich 
rang  false  and  hollow ;  and  to  those  wlio  watched  this  couple 
with  close,  and  perhaps  malicious,  scrutiny  it  seemed  evident 
that,  in  the  haughtiness  of  a  firmer  character,  higher  birth, 
and  "-.i^re  decided  views  of  aggrandizement,  the  lady  looked 
with  ooaie  contempt  on  her  iiusband,  and  that  he  regarded 
her  with  jealous  fear,  rather  than  with  love  or  admiration. 

Still,  however,  the  leading  and  favorite  interests  of  Sir 
William  Ashton  and  his  lady  were  the  same,  and  they  failed 
not  to  work  in  concert,  although  without  cordiality,  and  to 
testify,  in  all  exterior  circumstances,  that  respect  for  each 
other  which  they  were  aware  was  necessary  to  secure  that  of 
the  public. 

Their  union  was  crowned  with  several  children,  of  whom 
three  survived.  One,  the  eldest  son,  was  absent  on  his  travels  ; 
the  second,  a  girl  of  seventeen,  and  the  third,  a  boy  about 
three  years  younger,  resided  with  their  parents  in  Edinburgh 
during  the  sessions  of  the  Scottish  Parliament  and  Privy  Coun- 
cil, at  other  times  in  the  old  Grothic  castle  of  Ravenswood,  to 
which  the  Lord  Keeper  had  made  large  additions  in  the  style 
of  the  17th  century. 

Allan  Lord  Ravenswood,  the  late  proprietor  of  that 
ancient  mansion  and  the  large  estate  annexed  to  it,  continued 
for  some  time  to  wage  ineffectual  war  with  his  successor  con- 
cerning various  points  to  which  their  former  transactions  had 
given  rise,  and  which  were  successively  determined  in  favor 
of  the  wealthy  and  powerful  competitor,  until  death  closed 
the  litigation,  by  summoning  Ravenswood  to  a  higher  bar. 
The  thread  of  life,  which  had  been  long  wasting,  gave  way 
during  a  fit  of  violent  and  impotent  fury  with  which  he  was 
assailed  on  receiving  the  news  of  the  loss  of  a  cause,  founded, 
perhaps,  rather  in  equity  than  in  law,  the  last  which  he  had 
maintained  against  his  powerful  antagonist.  His  son  wit- 
nessed his  dying  agonies,  and  heard  the    curses   which  he 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  19 

breathed  against  his  adversary,  as  if  tliey  had  conveyed  to  him 
a  legacy  of  vengeance.  Other  circumstances  hapi)ened  to 
exasperate  a  passion  wliicli  was,  and  had  long  been,  a  preva- 
lent vice  in  the  Scottish  disposition. 

It  was  a  November  morning,  and  the  cliffs  which  over- 
looked the  ocean  were  hung  with  thick  and  heavy  mist,  when 
the  portals  of  the  ancient  and  half -ruinous  tower,  in  which 
Lord  Eavenswood  had  spent  the  last  and  troubled  years  of 
his  life,  opened,  that  his  mortal  remains  might  pass  forward 
to  an  abode  yet  more  dreary  and  lonely.  The  pomp  of  attend- 
ance, to  which  the  deceased  had,  in  his  latter  years,  been  a 
stranger,  was  revived  as  he  was  about  to  be  consigned  to  the 
realms  of  forgetfulness. 

Banner  after  banner,  with  the  various  devices  and  coats  of 
this  ancient  family  and  its  connections,  followed  each  other  in 
mournful  procession  from  under  the  low-browed  archway  of 
the  courtyard.  The  principal  gentry  of  the  country  attended 
in  the  deepest  mourning,  and  tempered  the  pace  of  their  long 
train  of  horses  to  the  solemn  march  befitting  the  occasion. 
Trumpets,  with  banners  of  crape  attached  to  them,  sent  forth 
their  long  and  melancholy  notes  to  regulate  the  movements 
of  the  procession.  An  immense  train  of  inferior  mourners 
and  menials  closed  the  rear,  which  had  not  yet  issued  from 
the  castle  gate  when  the  van  had  reached  the  chapel  where 
the  body  was  to  be  deposited. 

Contrary  to  the  custom,  and  even  to  the  law,  of  the  time, 
the  bod}^  was  met  by  a  priest  of  the  Scottish  Episcopal  com- 
munion, arrayed  in  his  surplice,  and  prepared  to  read  over  the 
coffin  of  the  deceased  the  funeral  service  of  the  church.  Such 
had  been  the  desire  of  Lord  Ravenswood  in  his  last  illness, 
and  it  was  readily  complied  with  by  the  Tory  gentlemen,  or 
Cavaliers,  as  they  affected  to  style  themselves,  in  which  faction 
most  of  his  kinsmen  were  enrolled.  The  Presbyterian  Church 
judicatory  of  the  bounds,  considering  the  ceremony  as  a  bra- 
vading  insult  upon  their  authority,  had  applied  to ^tlie  Lord 
Keeper,  as  the  nearest  privy  councillor,  for  a  warrant  to  prevent 
its  being  carried  into  eft'ect ;  so  that,  when  the  clergyman  had 
opened  his  prayer-book,  an  officer  of  the  law%  supported  by 
some  armed  men,  commanded  him  to  be  silent.  An  insult 
which  fired  the  whole  assembly  with  indignation  was  particu- 
larly and  instantly  resented  by  the  only  son  of  the  deceased, 
Edgar,  popularly  called  the  Master  of  Eavenswood,  a  youth 
of  about  twenty  years  of  age.  He  clapped  his  hand  on  his 
sword,  and,  bidding  the  official  2)erpon  to  desist  at  his  peril 
from  farther  kiterruptiou,  commanded  the  clergyman  to  pro- 


20  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

ceed.  The  man  attempted  to  enforce  his  commission  ;  bnt  as 
a  hundred  swords  at  once  glittered  in  the  air,  he  contented 
himself  with  protesting  against  the  violence  which  had  been 
offered  to  him  in  the  execution  of  his  duty,  and  stood  aloof,  a 
sullen  and  moody  spectator  of  the  ceremonial,  muttering  as 
one  who  should  say,  "You'll  rue  the  day  that  clogs  me  with 
this  answer." 

The  scene  was  worthy  of  an  artist's  pencil.  Under  the 
very  arch  of  the  house  of  death,  the  clergyman,  affrighted  at 
the  scene,  and  trembling  for  his  own  saiety,  hastily  and  un- 
willingly rehearsed  the  solemn  service  of  the  church,  ana 
spoke  "dust  to  dust  and  ashes  to  ashes,"  over  ruined  pride 
and  decayed  prosperity.  Around  stood  the  relations  of  the 
deceased,  their  countenances  more  in  anger  than  in  sorrow, 
and  the  drawn  swords  which  they  brandished  forming  a  violent 
contrast  with  their  deep  mourning  habits.  In  the  counte- 
nance of  the  young  man  alone,  resentment  seemed  for  the 
moment  overpowered  by  the  deep  agony  with  which  he  beheld 
his  nearest,  and  almost  his  only,  friend  consigned  to  the  tomb 
of  his  ancestry.  A  relative  observed  him  turn  deadly  pale, 
when,  all  rites  being  now  duly  observed,  it  became  the  duty 
of  the  chief  mourner  to  lower  down  into  the  charnel  vault, 
where  mouldering  coffins  showed  their  tattered  velvet  and 
decayed  plating,  the  head  of  the  corpse  which  was  to  be  their 
partner  in  corruption.  He  stepped  to  the  youth  and  offered  his 
assistance,  which,  by  a  mute  motion,  Edgar  Eavenswood  re- 
jected. Firmly,  and  without  a  tear,  he  performed  that  last 
duty.  The  stone  was  laid  on  the  sepulchre,  the  door  of  the 
aisle  was  locked,  and  the  youth  took  possession  of  its  massive 
key. 

As  the  crowd  left  the  chapel,  he  paused  on  the  steps 
which  led  to  its  Gothic  chancel.  "  Gentlemen  and  friends," 
he  said,  "you  have  this  day  done  no  common  duty  to  the  body 
of  your  deceased  kinsman.  The  rites  of  due  observance,  which, 
in  other  countries,  are  allowed  as  the  due  of  the  meanest 
Christian',  would  this  day  have  been  denied  to  the  body  ol 
your  relative — not  certainly  sprung  of  the  meanest  house  in 
Scotland — had  it  not  been  assured  to  him  by  your  courage. 
Others  bury  their  dead  in  sorrow  and  tears,  in  silence  and  in 
reverence ;  our  funeral  rites  are  marred  by  the  intrusion  of 
bailiffs  and  ruffians,  and  our  grief — the  grief  diie  to  our  de- 
parted friend — is  chased  from  our  cheeks  by  the  glow  of  just 
indignation.  But  it  is  well  that  I  know  from  what  quiver 
this  arrow  has  come  forth.  It  was  only  he  that  dug  the  grave 
who  could  have  the  mean  cruelty  to  disturb  the  obsequies  ; 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  31 

and  Heaven  do  as  much  to  me  and  more,  if  I  requite  not  to 
this  man  and  his  house  the  ruin  and  disgrace  he  has  brought 
on  me  and  mine  ! " 

A  numerous  part  of  the  assembly  applauded  this  speech,  as 
the  spirited  expression  of  just  resentment ;  but  the  more  cool 
and  judicious  regretted  tluit  it  had  been  uttered.  The  fortunes 
of  the  heir  of  Eavenswood  were  too  low  to  brave  the  farther 
hostility  which  they  imagined  these  open  expressions  of  re- 
sentment must  necessarily  provoke.  Their  apprehensions, 
however,  proved  groundless,  at  least  in  the  immediate  conse- 
quences of  this  affair. 

The  mourners  returned  to  the  tower,  there,  according  to 
a  custom  but  recently  abolished  in  Scotland,  to  carouse  deep 
healths  to  the  memory  of  the  deceased,  to  make  the  house  of 
sorrow  ring  with  sounds  of  jovialty  and  debauch,  and  to 
diminish,  by  tlie  expense  of  a  large  and  profuse  entertain- 
ment, the  limited  revenues  of  the  heir  of  him  whose  funeral 
they  thus  strangely  honored.  It  was  the  custom,  however, 
and  on  the  present  occasion  it  was  fully  observed.  The  tables 
swam  in  wine,  the  populace  feasted  in  the  courtyard,  the  yeo- 
men in  the  kitchen  and  buttery  ,  and  two  years'  rent  of  Ra- 
veiiswood's  remaining  property  hardly  defrayed  the  charge  of 
the  funeral  revel.  The  wine  did  its  office  on  all  but  the  Mas- 
ter of  Ravenswood,  a  title  which  he  still  retained,  though  for- 
feiture had  attached  to  that  of  his  father.  He,  while  passing 
around  the  cup  wiiich  he  himself  did  not  taste,  soon  listened 
to  a  thousand  exclamations  against  the  Lord  Keeper,  and 
passionate  protestations  of  attachment  to  himself,  and  to  the 
honor  of  his  house.  He  listened  with  dark  and  sullen  brow 
to  ebullitions  which  he  considered  justly  as  equally  evanescent 
with  the  crimson  bubbles  on  the  brink  of  the  goblet,  or  at 
least  witli  the  vapors  which  its  contents  excited  in  the  brains 
of  the  revellers  around  him. 

When  the  last  flask  was  emptied,  they  took  their  leave 
with  deep  protestations — to  be  forgotten  on  the  morrow,  if, 
indeed,  those  who  made  them  should  not  think  it  necessary 
for  their  safety  to  make  a  more  solemn  retractation. 

Accepting  their  adieus  with  an  air  of  contempt  which  he 
could  scarce  conceal,  Ravenswood  at  length  beheld  his  ruinous 
habitation  cleared  of  this  confluence  of  riotous  guests,  and 
returned  to  the  deserted  hall,  which  now  appeared  doubly 
lonely  from  the  cessation  of  that  clamor  to  which  it  had  so 
lately  echoed.  But  its  space  was  peopled  by  phantoms  which 
the  imagination  of  the  young  heir  conjured  up  before  him — 
the  tarnished  honor  and  degraded  fortunes  of  his  house,  the 


83  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

destruction  of  his  own  hopes,  and  the  triumph  of  that  family 
by  whom  the}^  had  been  ruined.  To  a  mind  naturally  of 
a  gloomy  cast  here  was  ample  room  for  meditation,  and  the 
musings  of  3'Oung  Ravenswood  were  deep  and  unwitnessed. 

The  peasant  who  shows  the  ruins  of  the  tower,  wiiich  still 
crown  the  beetling  cliff  and  behold  the  war  of  the  waves, 
though  no  more  tenanted  save  by  the  sea-mew  and  cormorant, 
even  yet  affirms  that  on  this  fatal  night  the  Master  of  Ravens- 
wood,  by  the  bitter  exclamations  of  his  despair,  evoked  some 
evil  fiend,  under  whose  malignant  influence  the  future  tissue 
of  incidents  was  woven.  Alas  !  what  fiend  can  suggest  more 
desperate  counsels  than  those  adopted  under  the  guidance  of 
our  own  violent  and  unresisted  passions  ? 


CHAPTEE  III 

Orer  Gods  forebode,  then  said  the  King, 
That  thou  shouldst  shoot  at  me, 

Williavi  Bell,  dim  o'  the  Cleugh,  etc. 

On  the  morning  after  the  funeral,  the  legal  officer  whose 
authority  had  been  found  insufficient  to  effect  an  interruption 
of  the  funeral  solemnities  of  the  late  Lord  Ravenswood, 
hastened  to  state  before  the  Keeper  the  resistance  which  he 
had  met  with  in  the  execution  of  his  office. 

The  statesman  was  seated  in  a  spacious  library,  once  a 
banqueting-room  in  the  old  Castle  of  Eavenswood,  as  was 
evident  from  the  armorial  insignia  still  displayed  on  the  carved 
roof,  which  was  vaulted  with  Spanish  chestnut,  and  on  the 
stained  glass  of  the  casement,  through  which  gleamed  a  dim 
yet  rich  light  on  the  long  rows  of  shelves,  bending  under  the 
weight  of  legal  commentators  and  monkish  historians,  whose 
ponderous  volumes  formed  the  chief  and  most  valued  contents 
of  a  Scottish  historian  [library]  of  the  period.  On  the  mas- 
sive oaken  table  and  reading-desk  lay  a  confused  mass  of  let- 
ters, petitions,  and  parchments  ;  to  toil  among  which  was 
the  pleasure  at  once  and  the  plague  of  Sir  AVilliam  Ashton's 
life.  His  appearance  was  grave  and  even  noble,  well  becom- 
ing one  who  held  a  high  office  in  the  state  ;  and  it  was  not 
save  after  long  and  intimate  conversation  with  him  upon 
topics  of  pressing  and  personal  interest,  that  a  stranger  could 
have  discovered  something  vacillating  and  uncertain  in  his 
resolutions  ;  an  infirmity  of  purpose,  arising  from  a  cautious 
and  timid  disposition,  which,  as  he  was  conscious  of  its  inter- 
nal influence  on  his  mind,  he  was,  from  pride  as  well  as  policy, 
most  anxious  to  conceal  from  others. 

He  listened  with  great  apparent  composure  to  an  exagger- 
ated account  of  the  tumult  which  had  taken  place  at  the 
funeral,  of  the  contempt  thrown  on  his  own  authority  and 
that  of  the  church  and  state  ;  nor  did  he  seem  moved  even 
by  the  faithful  report  of  the  insulting  and  threatening  lan- 
guage which  had  been  uttered  by  young  Eavenswood  and 
others,  and  obviously  directed   against  himself.     He  heard. 


24  WAVE  RLE  Y  NOVELS 

also,  what  the  man  had  been  able  to  collect,  in  a  very  dis- 
torted and  aggravated  shape,  of  the  toasts  which  had  been 
drunk,  and  the  menaces  uttered,  at  the  subsequent  entertain- 
ment. In  fine,  he  made  careful  notes  of  all  these  particulars, 
and  of  the  names  of  the  persons  by  whom,  in  case  of  need, 
an  accusation,  founded  upon  these  violent  proceedings,  could 
be  witnessed  and  made  good,  and  dismissed  his  informer, 
secure  that  he  was  now  master  of  the  remaining  fortune, 
and  even  of  the  personal  liberty,  of  young  Kavenswood. 

Wiien  the  door  had  closed  upon  the  officer  of  the  law,  the 
Lord  Keeper  remained  for  a  moment  in  deep  meditation  ; 
then,  starting  from  his  seat,  paced  the  apartment  as  one  about 
to  take  a  sudden  and  energetic  resolution.  "  Young  Ravens- 
wood,"  he  muttered,  "is  now  mine — he  is  my  own  ;  he  has 
placed  himself  in  my  hand,  and  he  shall  bend  or  break.  I 
have  not  forgot  the  determined  and  dogged  obstinacy  with 
which  his  father  fought  every  point  to  the  last,  resisted  every 
effort  at  compromise,  embroiled  me  in  lawsuits,  and  attempt- 
ed to  assail  my  cliaracter  wlien  he  could  not  otherwise  impugn 
my  rights.  This  boy  he  has  left  behind  him — tliis  Edgar — 
this  hot-headed,  hare-brained  fool,  has  wrecked  his  vessel  be- 
fore she  has  cleared  the  harbor.  I  must  see  that  he  gains  no 
advantage  of  some  turning  tide  which  may  again  float  him  off. 
These  memoranda,  properly  stated  to  the  privy  council,  can- 
not but  be  construed  into  an  aggravated  riot,  in  which  the 
dignity  both  of  the  civil  and  ecclesiastical  authorities  stands 
committed.  A  heavy  fine  might  be  imposed  ;  an  order  for 
committing  him  to  Edinburgh  or  Blackness  Castle  seems  not 
improper ;  even  a  charge  of  treason  might  be  laid  on  many  of 
these  words  and  expressions,  though  God  forbid  I  should 
prosecute  the  matter  to  that  extent.  No,  I  will  not ;  I  will 
not  touch  his  life,  even  if  it  should  be  in  my  power  ;  and  yet, 
if  he  lives  till  a  change  of  times,  what  follows  ?  Restitution — 
perhaps  revenge.  I  know  Athole  promised  his  interest  to 
old  Ravenswood,  and  here  is  his  son  already  bandying  and 
making  a  faction  by  his  own  contemptible  influence.  What 
a  ready  tool  he  would  be  for  tlie  use  of  those  who  are  watch- 
ing the  downfall  of  our  administration  ! " 

While  these  thoughts  were  agitating  the  mind  of  the  wily 
statesman,  and  while  he  was  persuading  himself  that  his  own 
interest  and  safety,  as  well  as  tliose  of  his  friends  and  party, 
depended  on  using  the  present  advantage  to  the  uttermost 
against  young  Ravenswood,  the  Lord  Keeper  sat  down  to 
his  desk,  and  proceeded  to  draw  up,  for  the  information  of 
the  privy  council,  an  account  of  tibe  disorderly  proceedings 


THE  BRIDE   OF  LAMMERMOOR  25 

whicli,  in  contempt  of  his  warrant,  had  taken  place  at  the 
funeral  of  Lord  Kavenswood.  The  names  of  most  of  the 
parties  concerned,  as  well  as  the  fact  itself,  would,  he  was 
well  aware,  sound  odiously  in  the  ears  of  his  colleagues  in 
administration,  and  most  likely  instigate  them  to  make  an 
example  of  young  Ravenswood,  at  least,  in  terrorem. 

It  was  a  point  of  delicacy,  however,  to  select  such  expres- 
sions as  might  infer  tlie  young  man's  culpability,  without 
seeming  directly  to  urge  it,  which,  on  the  part  of  Sir  William 
Ashton,  his  father's  ancient  antagonist,  could  not  but  appear 
odious  and  invidious.  AVhile  he  was  in  the  act  of  composition, 
laboring  to  find  words  which  might  indicate  Edgar  Ravens- 
wood  to  be  the  cause  of  the  uproar,  without  specifically  mak- 
ing such  a  charge.  Sir  William,  in  a  pause  of  his  task,  chanced, 
in  looking  upward,  to  see  the  crest  of  the  family  for  whose 
heir  he  was  whetting  the  arrows  and  disposing  the  toils  of  the 
law  carved  upon  one  of  the  corbeilles  from  which  the  vaulted 
roof  of  the  apartment  sprang.  It  was  a  black  bull's  head, 
with  the  legend.  "'  I  bide  my  time  ; "  and  the  occasion  upon 
which  it  was  adopted  mingled  itself  singularly  and  impres- 
sively with  the  subject  of  his  present  reflections. 

It  was  said  ]\v  a  constant  tradition  that  a  Malisius  de  Ra- 
venswood had,  in  the  13th  century,  been  deprived  of  his  castle 
and  lands  by  a  powerful  usurper,  who  had  for  a  while  enjoyed 
his  spoils  in  quiet.  At  length,  on  the  eve  of  a  costly  banquet, 
Ravenswood,  who  had  watched  his  opportunity,  introduced 
liimself  into  the  castle  with  a  small  band  of  faithful  retainers. 
The  serving  of  the  expected  feast  was  impatiently  looked  for 
by  the  guests,  and  clamorously  demanded  by  the  temporary 
master  of  the  castle.  Ravenswood,  who  had  assumed  the  dis- 
guise of  a  sewer  upon  the  occasion,  answered,  in  a  stern  voice, 
"I  bide  my  time  ;"  and  at  tlie  same  moment  a  bull's  head,  the 
ancient  symbol  of  death,  was  placed  upon  the  table.  The  ex- 
plosion of  the  conspiracy  took  place  upon  the  signal,  and  the 
usurper  and  his  followers  were  put  to  death.  Perhaps  there  was 
something  in  this  still  known  and  often  repeated  story  which 
came  immediately  home  to  tlie  breast  and  conscience  of  the 
Lord  Keeper  ;  for,  putting  from  him  the  paper  on  whicli  he  had 
begun  his  report,  and  carefully  locking  the  memoranda  which 
he  had  prepared  into  a  cabinet  which  stood  beside  him,  he 
proceeded  to  walk  abroad,  as  if  for  the  purpose  of  collecting 
his  ideas,  and  reflecting  farther  on  the  consequences  of  the 
step  which  he  was  about  to  take,  ere  yet  they  became  inevitable. 

In  passing  through  a  large  Gothic  anteroom,  Sir  William 
Ashton  heard  the  sound  of  his  daughter's  lute.     Music,  when 


26  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

the  performers  are  concealed,  affects  ns  with  a  pleasure  mingled 

with  surprise,  and  reminds  us  of  the  natural  concert  of  birds 
among  the  leafy  bowers.  The  statesman,  though  little  accus- 
tomed to  give  way  to  emotions  of  this  natural  and  simple 
class,  was  still  a  man  and  a  father.  He  stopped,  therefore, 
and  listened,  while  the  silver  tones  of  Lucy  Ashton's  voice 
mingled  with  the  accompaniment  in  an  ancient  air,  to  which 
some  one  had  adapted  the  following  words  : 

*'  Look  not  thou  on  beauty's  charming, 
Sit  thou  still  when  kings  are  arming, 
Taste  not  when  the  wine-cup  glistens, 
Speak  not  when  the  people  listens, 
Stop  thine  ear  against  the  singer, 
From  the  red  gold  keep  thy  finger, 
Vacant  heart,  and  hand,  and  eye. 
Easy  live  and  quiet  die." 

The  sounds  ceased,  and  the  Keeper  entered  his  daughter's 
apartment. 

The  words  she  had  chosen  seemed  particularly  adapted  to 
her  character  ;  for  Lucy  Ashton^s  exquisitely  beautiful,  yet 
somewhat  girlish  features  were  formed  to  express  peace  of 
mind,  serenity,  and  indifference  to  the  tinsel  of  worldly  pleas- 
ure. Her  locks,  which  were  of  shadowy  gold,  divided  on  a 
brow  of  exquisite  whiteness,  like  a  gleam  of  broken  and  pallid 
sunshine  upon  a  hill  of  snow.  The  expression  of  the  counte- 
nance was  in  the  last  degree  gentle,  soft,  timid,  and  feminine, 
and  seemed  rather  to  shrink  from  the  most  casual  look  of  a 
stranger  than  to  court  his  admiration.  Something  there  was 
of  a  Madonna  cast,  perhaps  the  result  of  delicate  health,  and 
of  residence  in  a  family  where  the  dispositions  of  the  inmates 
were  fiercer,  more  active,  and  energetic  than  her  own. 

Yet  her  passiveness  of  disposition  was  by  no  means  owing 
to  an  indifferent  or  unfeeling  mind.  Left  to  the  impulse  of 
her  own  taste  and  feelings,  Lucy  Ashton  was  peculiarly  ac- 
cessible to  those  of  a  romantic  cast.  Her  secret  delight  was 
in  the  old  legendary  tales  of  ardent  devotion  and  unalterable 
affection,  checkered  as  they  so  often  are  with  strange  adven- 
tures and  supernatural  horrors.  This  was  her  favored  fairy 
realm,  and  here  she  erected  her  aerial  palaces.  But  it  was 
only  in  secret  that  she  labored  at  this  delusive  though  delight- 
ful architecture.  In  her  retired  chamber,  or  in  the  wood- 
land bower  which  she  had  chosen  for  her  own,  and  called 
after  her  name,  she  was  in  fancy  distributing  the  prizes  at 
the  tournament,  or  raining  down  influence  from  her  eyes  on 
the  valiant  combatants  ;  or  she  was  wandering  in  the  wilder- 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  27 

ness  with  Una,  under  escort  of  the  generous  lion  ;  or  she  was 
identifying  herself  with  the  simple  yet  noble-minded  Miranda 
in  the  isle  of  wonder  and  enchantment. 

But  in  her  exterior  relations  to  things  of  this  world,  Lucy 
willingly  received  the  ruling  impulse  from  those  around  her. 
The  alternative  was,  in  general,  too  indifferent  to  her  to  ren- 
der resistance  desirable,  and  she  willingly  found  a  motive  for 
decision  in  the  opinion  of  her  friends  which  perhaps  she 
might  have  sought  for  in  vain  in  her  own  choice.  Every 
reader  must  have  observed  in  some  family  of  his  acquaint- 
ance some  individual  of  a  temper  soft  and  yielding,  who, 
mixed  with  stronger  and  more  ardent  minds,  is  borne  along 
by  the  will  of  others,  with  as  little  power  of  opposition  as  the 
flower  which  is  flung  into  a  running  stream.  It  usually 
happens  that  such  a  compliant  and  easy  disposition,  whicn. 
resigns  itself  without  murmur  to  the  guidance  of  others, 
becomes  the  darling  of  those  to  whose  inclinations  its  own 
seem  to  be  ofl'ered,  in  ungrudging  and  ready  sacrifice. 

This  was  eminently  the  case  with  Lucy  Ashton.  Her 
politic,  wary,  and  worldly  father  felt  for  her  an  affection  the 
strength  of  which  sometimes  surprised  him  into  an  unusual 
emotion.  Her  elder  brother,  who  trod  the  path  of  ambition 
with  a  haughtier  step  than  his  father,  had  also  more  of 
human  affection.  A  soldier,  and  in  a  dissolute  age,  he  pre- 
ferred his  sister  Lucy  even  to  pleasure  and  to  military  prefer- 
ment and  distinction.  Her  younger  brother,  at  the  age  when 
trifles  chiefly  occupied  his  mind,  made  her  the  confidant  of 
all  his  pleasures  and  anxieties,  his  success  in  field-sports,  and 
his  quarrels  with  his  tutor  and  instructors.  To  these  details, 
however  trivial,  Lucy  lent  patient  and  not  indifferent  atten- 
tion. They  moved  and  interested  Henry,  and  that  was 
enough  to  secure  her  ear. 

Her  mother  alone  did  not  feel  that  distinguished  and  pre- 
dominating affection  with  which  the  rest  of  the  family 
cherished  Lucy.  She  regarded  what  she  termed  her  daugh- 
ter's want  of  spirit  as  a  decided  mark  that  the  more  plebeian 
blood  of  her  father  predominated  in  Lucy's  veins,  and  used  to 
call  her  in  derision  her  Lammermoor  Shepherdess.  To  dis- 
like so  gentle  and  inoffensive  a  being  was  impossible ;  but 
Lady  Ashton  preferred  her  eldest  son,  on  whom  had  de- 
scended a  large  portion  of  her  own  ambitious  and  undaunted 
disposition,  to  a  daughter  whose  softness  of  temper  seemed 
allied  to  feebleness  of  mind.  Her  eldest  son  was  the  more 
partially  beloved  by  his  mother  because,  contrary  to  the 
usual  custom  of  Scottish  families  of  distinction,  he  had  been 
named  after  the  head  of  the  housa. 


28  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

''My  Sliolto,"  she  said,  "will  support  the  nntarnished 
honor  of  his  maternal  house,  and  elevate  and  support  that  of 
his  father.  Poor  Lucy  is  unfit  for  courts  or  crowded  halls. 
Some  country  luird  must  be  her  husband,  rich  enough  to  sup- 
ply her  with  every  comfort,  without  an  effort  on  her  own  part, 
so  that  she  may  have  nothing  to  shed  a  tear  for  but  the 
tender  apprehension  lest  he  may  break  his  neck  in  a  fox-chase. 
It  was  not  so,  however,  that  our  house  was  raised,  nor  is  it  so 
that  it  can  be  fortified  and  au[^mented.  The  Lord  Keeper's 
dignity  is  yet  new  ;  it  must  be  borne  as  if  we  were  used  to  its 
weight,  worthy  of  it,  and  prompt  to  assert  and  maintain  it. 
Before  ancient  authorities  men  bend  from  customary  and 
hereditary  deference  ;  in  our  presence  they  will  stand  erect, 
unless  they  are  compelled  to  prostrate  themselves.  A  daugh- 
ter fit  for  the  sheepfold  or  the  cloister  is  ill  qualified  to  exact 
respect  where  it  is  yielded  with  reluctance  ;  and  since  Heaven 
refused  us  a  third  boy,  Lucy  should  have  held  a  character  fit 
to  supply  his  place.  The  hour  will  be  a  happy  one  which  dis- 
poses her  hand  in  marriage  to  some  one  whose  energy  is  greater 
than  her  own,  or  whose  ambition  is  of  as  low  an  order." 

So  meditated  a  mother  to  whom  the  qualities  of  her  chil- 
dren's hearts,  as  well  as  the  prospect  of  their  domestic  happi- 
ness, seemed  light  in  comparison  to  their  rank  and  temporal 
greatness.  But,  like  many  a  parent  of  hot  and  impatient 
character,  she  was  mistaken  in  estimating  the  feelings  of  her 
daughter,  who,  under  a  semblance  of  extreme  indifference, 
nourished  the  germ  of  those  passions  which  sometimes  spring 
up  in  one  night,  like  the  gourd  of  the  prophet,  and  astonish 
the  observer  by  their  unexpected  ardor  and  intensity.  In  fact, 
Lucy's  sentiments  seemed  chill  because  nothing  had  occurred 
to  interest  or  awaken  them.  Her  life  had  hitherto  flowed  on 
in  a  uniform  and  gentle  tenor,  and  happy  for  her  had  not  its 
present  smoothness  of  current  resembled  that  of  the  stream  as 
it  glides  downwards  to  the  waterfall ! 

"  So,  Lucy,"  said  her  fiithe-,  entering  as  her  song  was  ended, 
''  does  your  musical  philosopher  teach  you  to  contemn  the 
world  before  you  know  it  ?  That  is  surely  something  prema- 
ture. Or  did  you  but  speak  according  to  the  fashion  of  fair 
maidens,  who  are  always  to  hold  the  pleasures  of  life  in  con- 
tempt till  they  are  pressed  upon  them  by  the  address  of  some 
gentle  knight  ?" 

Lucy  blushed,  disclaimed  any  inference  respecting  her  own 
choice  being  drawn  from  her  selection  of  a  song,  and  readily 
laid  aside  her  instrument  at  her  father's  reauest  that  she 
would  attend  him  in  his  wai^- 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  W 

A  large  and  well-wooded  park,  or  rather  chase,  stretched 
along  the  hill  behind  the  castle,  which,  occupying,  as  we  have 
noticed,  a  pass  ascending  from  the  ])lain,  seemed  built  in  its 
very  gorge  to  defend  the  forest  ground  which  arose  behind  it 
in  shaggy  majesty.  Into  this  romantic  region  the  father  and 
daughter  proceeded,  arm  in  arm,  by  a  noble  avenue  overarched 
by  embowering  elms,  beneath  which  groups  of  the  fallow-deer 
were  seen  to  stray  in  distant  j^erspective.  As  they  paced 
slowly  on,  admiring  the  different  jDoints  of  view,  for  which  Sir 
William  Ashton,  notwithstanding  the  nature  of  his  usual 
avocations,  had  considerable  taste  and  feeling,  they  were  over- 
taken by  the  forester,  or  park-keeper,  who,  intent  on  sylvan 
sport,  was  proceeding  with  his  cross-bow  over  his  ai'm,  and  a 
hound  led  in  leash  by  his  boy,  into  the  interior  of  the  wood. 

"Going  to  shoot  us  a  piece  of  venison,  Xorman  ?"  said 
his  master,  as  he  returned  the  woodman's  salutation. 

"Saul,  your  honor,  and  that  I  am.  Will  it  please  you  to 
see  the  sport  ?  " 

"  0  no,"  said  his  lordship,  after  looking  at  his  daughter, 
whose  color  fled  at  the  idea  of  seeing  the  deer  shot,  although, 
had  her  father  expressed  his  wish  that  they  shiDuld  accom- 
pany Norman,  it  was  probable  she  would  not  even  have  hinted 
her  reluctance. 

The  forester  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  It  was  a  disheart- 
ening thing,"  he  said,  "  when  none  of  the  gentles  came  down 
to  see  the  sport.  He  hoped  Captain  Sholto  would  be  soon 
hame,  or  he  might  shut  up  his  shop  entirely;  for  Mr.  Harry 
was  kept  sae  close  wi'  his  Latin  nonsense  that,  though  his  will 
was  very  gude  to  be  in  the  wood  from  morning  till  night, 
there  would  be  a  hopeful  lad  lost,  and  no  making  a  man  of 
him.  It  was  not  so,  he  had  heard,  in  Lord  Ravenswood's 
time:  when  a  buck  was  to  be  killed,  man  and  mother's  son 
ran  to  see;  and  when  the  deer  fell,  the  knife  was  always  pre- 
sented to  the  knight,  and  he  never  gave  less  than  a  dollar  for 
the  compliment.  And  there  was  Edgar  Ravenswood — Master 
of  Kaveuswood  that  is  now — when  he  goes  up  to  the  wood — 
there  hasna  been  a  better  hunter  since  Tristrem's  time — when 
Sir  Edgar  bauds  out,  down  goes  the  deer,  faith.  But  \«e  hae 
lost  a'  sense  of  woodcraft  on  this  side  of  the  hill." 

There  was  much  in  this  harangue  highly  displeasing  to 
the  Lord  Keeper's  feelings;  he  could  not  help  observing  that 
his  menial  despised  him  almost  avowedly  for  not  possessing 
that  taste  for  sport  which  in  those  times  was  deemed  the  nat- 
ural and  indispensable  attribute  of  a  real  gentleman.  But 
the  master  of  the  game  is,  in  all  country  houses,  a  man  of 


»  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

great  importance,  and  entitled  to  use  considerable  freedom  of 
speech.  Sir  William,  therefore,  only  smiled  and  replied, 
"  Ho  had  something  else  to  think  upon  to-day  than  killing 
deer ; "  meantime,  taking  out  his  purse,  he  gave  the  ranger  a 
dollar  for  his  encouragement.  The  fellow  received  it  as  the 
waiter  of  a  fashionable  hotel  receives  double  his  proper  fee 
from  the  hands  of  a  country  gentleman — that  is,  with  a  smile, 
in  which  pleasure  at  the  gift  is  mingled  with  contempt  for 
the  ignorance  of  the  donor.  "Your  honor  is  the  bad  pay- 
master," he  said,  "who  pays  before  it  is  done.  What  would 
you  do  were  I  to  miss  the  buck  after  you  have  paid  me  my 
wood-fee  ?  " 

"I  suppose,"  said  the  Keeper,  smiling,  "■  you  would  hardly 
guess  what  I  mean  were  I  to  tell  you  of  a  condictio  in- 
dehiti?" 

"  JSTot  I,  on  my  saul.  I  guess  it  is  some  law  phrase  ;  but 
Bue  a  beggar,  and — your  honor  knows  what  follows.  Well, 
but  I  will  be  just  with  you,  and  if  bow  and  brach  fail  not, 
you  shall  have  a  piece  of  game  two  fingers  fat  on  the  bris- 
ket." 

As  he  was  about  to  go  off,  his  master  again  called  him,  and 
asked,  as  if  by  accident,  whether  the  Master  of  Ravenswood 
was  actually  so  brave  a  man  and  so  good  a  shooter  as  the 
world  spoke  him. 

"Brave  ! — brave  enough,  I  warrant  you,"  answered  Nor- 
man. "  I  was  in  the  wood  at  Tyninghame  when  there  was  a 
sort  of  gallants  hunting  with  my  lord  ;  on  my  saul,  there  was 
a  buck  turned  to  bay  made  us  all  stand  back — a  stout  old 
Trojan  of  the  first  head,  ten-tined  branches,  and  a  brow  as 
broad  as  e'er  a  bullock's.  Egad,  he  dashed  at  the  old  lord, 
and  tliere  would  have  been  inlake  among  the  peerage,  if  the 
Master  had  not  whipped  roundly  in,  and  hamstrung  him  Avith 
his  cutlass.     He  was  but  sixteen  then,  bless  his  heart." 

"And  is  he  as  ready  with  the  gun  as  with  the  couteau  ?  " 
Baid  Sir  William. 

"  He'll  strike  this  silver  dollar  out  from  between  my  fin- 
ger and  thumb  at  fourscore  yards,  and  I'll  hold  it  out  for  a 
gold  merk  ;  what  more  would  ye  have  of  eye,  hand,  lead,  and 
gunpowder  ?  " 

"  0,  no  more  to  be  wished,  certainly,"  said  the  Lord 
Keeper  ;  "  but  we  keep  you  from  your  sport,  Norman.  Good- 
morrow,  good  Norman." 

And,  humming  his  rustic  roundelay,  the  yeoman  went  on 
his  road,  the  sound  of  his  rough  voice  gradually  dying  away 
as  the  distance  betwixt  them  increased  : 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  31 

'♦  The  monk  must  arise  when  the  matins  ring, 
The  abbot  may  sleep  to  their  chime  ; 
But  the  yeoman  must  start  when  the  bugles  sing, 
'Tis  time,  my  hearts,  'tis  time. 

"  There's  bucks  and  raes  on  Bilhope  braes. 
There's  a  herd  on  Shortwood  Shaw  ; 
But  a  Hly-white  doe  in  the  garden  goes, 
She's  fairly  worth  them  a'." 

"  Has  this  fellow,"  said  the  Lord  Keeper,  when  the  yeo- 
man's song  had  died  on  the  wind,  "ever  served  the  Ravens- 
wood  people,  that  he  seems  so  much  interested  in  them  ?  I 
suppose  you  know,  Lucy,  for  you  make  it  a  point  of  con- 
science to  record  the  special  history  of  every  boor  about  the 
castle. "' 

''  I  am  not  quite  so  faithful  a  chronicler,  my  dear  father  • 
but  I  believe  that  Norman  once  served  here  while  a  boy,  and 
before  he  went  to  Ledington,  whence  you  hired  him.  But  if 
you  want  to  know  anything  of  the  former  family.  Old  Alice  is 
the  best  authority." 

''  And  what  should  I  have  to  do  with  them,  pray,  Lucy,^ 
said  her  father,  "or  with  their  history  or  accomplishments  ?^' 

"  Nay,  I  do  not  know,  sir ;  only  that  you  were  asking 
questions  of  Norman  about  young  Kavenswood." 

"Pshaw,  child !"  replied  her  father,  yet  immediatel} 
added,  "  And  who  is  Old  Alice  ?  I  think  you  know  all  th« 
old  women  in  the  country." 

"  To  be  sure  I  do,  or  how  could  I  help  the  old  creaturea 
when  they  are  in  hard  times  ?  And  as  to  Old  Alice,  she  is  tha 
very  empress  of  old  women  and  queen  of  gossips,  so  far  a^ 
legendary  lore  is  concerned.  She  is  blind,  poor  old  soul,  but 
when  she  speaks  to  you,  you  would  think  she  has  some  way  of 
looking  into  your  very  heart.  I  am  sure  I  often  cover  my 
face,  or  turn  it  away,  for  it  seems  as  if  she  saw  one  change 
color,  though  she  has  been  blind  these  twenty  years.  She  is 
worth  visiting,  were  it  but  to  say  you  have  seen  a  blind  and 
paralytic  old  woman  have  so  much  acuteness  of  perception 
and  dignity  of  manners.  I  assure  you,  she  might  be  a 
countess  from  her  language  and  behavior.  Come,  von  must 
go  to  see  Alice ;  we  are  not  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  her 
cottage." 

''All  this,  my  dear,"  said  the  Lord  Keeper,  "is  no  an- 
swer to  my  question,  who  this  woman  is,  and  what  is  her 
connection  with  the  former  proprietor's  family  ?  " 


32  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

"  0,  it  was  something  of  a  iiouriceship,  I  believe  ;  and 
she  remained  here,  because  her  two  grandsons  were  engaged 
in  your  service.  But  it  was  against  her  will,  I  fancy  ;  for 
the  poor  old  creature  is  always  regretting  the  change  of  times 
and  of  property." 

"  I  am  much  obliged  to  her,"  answered  the  Lord  Keeper. 
*'  She  and  her  folk  eat  my  bread  and  drink  my  cup,  and  are 
lamenting  all  the  while  tliat  they  are  not  still  under  a  family 
which  never  could  do  good,  either  to  themselves  or  any  one 
else  !  " 

*' Indeed,"  replied  Lucy,  "  I  am  certain  you  do  Old  Alice 
injustice.  She  has  nothing  mercenary  about  her,  and  would 
not  accept  a  penny  in  charity,  if  it  were  to  save  her  from  be- 
ing starved.  She  is  only  talkative,  like  all  old  folk  when  you 
put  them  upon  stories  of  their  youth  ;  and  she  speaks  about 
the  Kavenswood  people,  because  she  lived  under  them  so 
many  years.  But  I  am  sure  she  is  grateful  to  you,  sir,  for 
your  protection,  and  that  she  would  rather  speak  to  you  than 
to  any  other  person  in  the  whole  world  beside.  Do,  sir, 
come  and  see  Old  Alice." 

And  with  the  freedom  of  an  indulged  daughter  she 
dragged  the  Lord  Keeper  in  the  direction  she  desired. 


CHAPTER  IV 

Through  tops  of  the  high  trees  she  did  descry 
A  little  smoke,  whose  vapor,  thin  and  light, 
Reeking  aloft,  uproUed  to  the  sky. 
Which  cheerful  sign  did  send  unto  her  sight. 
That  in  the  same  did  wonne  some  living  wight. 

Spenser. 

Lucy  acted  as  her  father^s  guide,  for  he  was  too  much  en- 
grossed with  his  political  labors,  or  with  society,  to  be 
perfectly  acquainted  with  his  own  extensive  domains,  and,more- 
over,  was  generally  an  inhabitant  of  the  city  of  Edinburgh ; 
and  she,  on  the  other  hand,  liad,  with  her  mother,  resided 
the  whole  summer  in  Raveuswood,  and,  partly  from  taste, 
partly  from  want  of  any  other  amusement,  liad,  by  her  fre- 
(juent  rambles,  learned  to  know  each  lane,  alley,  dingle,  oi- 
bushy  dell. 

And  every  bosky  bourne  from  side  to  side. 

We  have  said  that  the  Lord  Keeper  was  not  indifferent  to 
the  beauties  of  nature  ;  and  we  add,  in  justice  to  him,  that 
he  felt  them  doubly  when  j)ointed  out  by  the  beautiful,  sim- 
ple, and  interesting  girl  who,  hanging  on  his  arm  with  filial 
kindness,  now  called  him  to  admire  the  size  of  some  ancient 
oak,  and  now  the  unexpected  turn  where  the  path,  developing 
its  maze  from  glen  or  dingle,  suddenly  reached  an  eminence 
commanding  an  extensive  view  of  the  plains  beneath  them, 
and  then  gradually  glided  away  from  the  prospect  to  lose  itself 
among  rocks  and  thickets,  and  guide  to  scenes  of  deeper 
seclusion. 

It  was  when  pausing  on  one  of  those  points  of  extensive 
and  commanding  view  that  Lucy  told  her  father  they  were 
close  by  the  cottage  of  her  hlhvl  jrroie gee ;  and  on  turning 
from  the  little  hill,  a  path  which  led  around  it,  worn  by  the 
daily  steps  of  the  infirm  inmate,  brought  them  in  sight  of  the 
hut,  which,  embosomed  in  a  deep  and" obscure  dell,  seemed  to 
have  been  so  situated  purposelv  to  bear  a  correspondence  with 
the  darkened  state  of  its  inhabitant. 

The  cottage  was  situated  immediately  under  a  tall  rock, 


34  WAVEBLEY  NOVELS 

which  in  some  measure  beetled  over  it,  as  if  threatening  to 
drop  some  detached  fragment  from  its  brow  on  the  frail  tene- 
ment beneath.  The  hut  itself  was  constructed  of  turf  and 
stones,  and  rudely  roofed  over  with  thatch,  much  of  which 
was  in  a  dilapidated  condition.  The  thin  blue  smoke  rose 
from  it  in  a  light  column,  and  curled  upward  along  the  white 
face  of  the  incumbent  rock,  giving  the  scene  a  tint  of  ex= 
quisite  softness.  In  a  small  and  rude  garden,  surrounded  by 
straggling  elder-bushes,  which  formed  a  sort  of  imperfect 
hedge,  sat  near  to  the  bee-hives,  by  the  produce  of  which  she 
lived,  that  "  woman  old  "  whom  Lucy  had  brought  her  father 
hither  to  visit. 

Whatever  there  had  been  which  was  disastrous  in  her  for- 
tune, whatever  there  was  miserable  in  her  dwelling,  it  was 
easy  to  judge  by  the  first  glance  that  neither  years,  poverty, 
misfortune,  nor  infirmity  had  broken  the  spirit  of  this  re- 
markable woman. 

She  occupied  a  turf  seat,  placed  under  a  weeping  birch  of 
unusual  magnitude  and  age,  as  Judah  is  represented  sitting 
under  her  palm-tree,  with  an  air  at  once  of  majesty  and  of 
dejection.  Her  figure  was  tall,  commanding,  and  but  little 
bent  by  the  infirmities  of  old  age.  Her  dress,  though  that 
of  a  peasant,  was  uncommonly  clean,  forming  in  that  par- 
ticular a  strong  contrast  to  most  of  her  rank,  and  was  dis- 
posed with  an  attention  to  neatness,  and  even  to  taste,  equally 
unusual.  But  it  was  her  expression  of  countenance  which 
chiefly  struck  the  spectator,  and  induced  most  persons  to 
address  her  with  a  degree  of  deference  and  civility  very  in- 
consistent with  the  miserable  state  of  her  dwelling,  and 
which,  nevertheless,  she  received  with  that  easy  composure 
which  showed  she  felt  it  to  be  her  due.  She  had  once  been 
beautiful,  but  her  beauty  had  been  of  a  bold  and  masculine 
cast,  such  as  does  not  survive  the  bloom  of  youth  ;  yet  hex- 
features  continued  to  express  strong  sense,  deep  reflection, 
and  a  character  of  sober  pride,  which,  as  we  have  already 
said  of  her  dress,  appeared  to  argue  a  conscious  superiority 
to  those  of  her  own  rank.  It  scarce  seemed  possible  that  a 
face,  deprived  of  the  advantage  of  sight,  could  have  ex- 
pressed character  so  strongly ;  but  her  eyes,  which  were  al- 
most totally  closed,  did  not,  by  the  display  of  their  sightless 
orbs,  mar  the  countenance  to  which  they  could  add  nothing. 
She  seemed  in  a  ruminating  posture,  soothed,  perhaps,  by 
the  murmurs  of  the  busy  tribe  around  her  to  abstraction, 
though  not  to  slumber. 

Lucy   undid   the  latch   of   the  little  garden  gate^  and 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  3a 

solicited  the  old  woman's  attention.  "  My  father,  Alice,  is 
come  to  see  you." 

"  He  is  welcome.  Miss  Ashton,  and  so  are  you,"  said  the 
old  woman,  turning  and  inclining  her  head  towards  her 
visitors. 

"  This  is  a  fine  morning  for  your  bee-hives,  mother,"  said 
the  Lord  Keeper,  who,  struck  with  the  outward  appearance  of 
Alice,  was  somewhat  curious  to  know  if  her  conversation 
would  correspond  with  it. 

"1  believe  so,  my  lord,"  she  replied;  "I  feel  the  air 
breathe  milder  than  of  late." 

"  You  do  not,"  resumed  the  statesman,  "take  charge  of 
these  bees  yourself,  mother  ?     How  do  you  manage  them  ?" 

''  By  delegates,  as  kings  do  their  subjects,"  resumed  Alice  ; 
^'  and  I  am  fortunate  in  a  prime  minister.     Here,  Babie." 

She  whistled  on  a  small  silver  call  which  hung  around  her 
neck,  and  which  at  that  time  was  sometimes  used  to  summon 
domestics,  and  Babie,  a  girl  of  fifteen,  made  her  appearance 
from  the  hut,  not  altogether  so  cleanly  arrayed  as  she  would 
probably  have  been  had  Alice  had  the  use  of  her  eyes,  but 
W^ith  a  greater  air  of  neatness  than  was  upon  the  whole  to 
have  been  expected. 

"  Babie,"  said  her  mistress,  '•  offer  some  bread  and  honey 
to  the  Lord  Keeper  and  Miss  Ashton  ;  they  will  excuse  your 
awkwardness  if  you  use  cleanliness  and  dispatch." 

Babie  performed  her  mistress's  command  Mith  the  grace 
which  was  naturally  to  have  been  expected,  moving  to  and 
fro  with  a  lobster-like  gesture,  her  feet  and  legs  tending  one 
way,  while  her  head,  turned  in  a  different  direction,  was  fixed 
in  wonder  upon  the  laird,  who  was  more  frequently  heard  of 
than  seen  by  his  tenants  and  dependants.  The  bread  and 
honey,  however,  deposited  on  a  plantain-leaf,  was  offered  and 
accepted  in  all  due  courtesy.  The  Lord  Keeper,  still  retain- 
ing the  place  which  he  had  occupied  on  the  decayed  trunk  of 
a  fallen  tree,  looked  as  if  he  wished  to  prolong  the  interview, 
but  was  at  a  loss  how  to  introduce  a  suitable  subject. 

''You  have  been  long  a  resident  on  this  property  ?"  he 
said,  after  a  pause. 

"■  It  is  now  nearly  sixty  years  since  I  first  knew  Ravens- 
wood,"  answered  the  old  dame,  whose  conversation,  though 
perfectly  civil  and  respectful,  seemed  cautiously  limited  to  the 
unavoidable  and  necessary  task  of  replying  to  Sir  William. 

"  You  are  not,  I  should  judge  by  your  accent,  of  this  coun- 
try originally  ? "  said  the  Lord  Keeper,  in  continuation. 

"  No  ;  I  am  by  birth  an  Englishwoman." 


86  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

"  Yet  you  seem  attached  to  this  country  as  if  it  were  your 
own. " 

''It  is  here,"  replied  the  bhnd  woman,  "that  I  have  drank 
the  cup  of  joy  and  of  sorrow  which  Heaven  destined  for  me.  I 
was  liere  the  wife  of  an  upright  and  affectionate  husband  for 
more  than  twenty  years  ;  I  was  here  the  mother  of  six  prom- 
ising children  ;  it  was  here  that  God  deprived  me  of  all 
these  blessings ;  it  was  here  they  died,  and  yonder,  by  yon 
ruined  chapel,  they  lie  all  buried.  I  had  no  country  but  theirs 
while  they  lived  ;  I  have  none  but  theirs  now  they  are  no 
more." 

"  Bat  your  house,"  said  the  Lord  Keeper,  looking  at  it, 
"is  miserably  ruinous?" 

"Do,  my  dear  father,"  said  Lucy,  eagerly,  yet  bashfully, 
catching  at  the  hint,  "  give  orders  to  make  it  better;  that  is, 
if  you  think  it  proper. " 

"  It  will  last  my  time,  my  dear  Miss  Lucy,"  said  the  blind 
woman;  "I  would  not  have  my  lord  give  himself  the  least 
trouble  about  it." 

"  But,"  said  Lucy,  "you  once  had  a  much  better  house, 
and  were  rich,  and  now  in  your  old  age  to  live  in  this  hovel ! " 

"  It  is  as  good  as  I  deserve,  Miss  Lucy  ;  if  my  heart  has  not 
broke  with  what  I  have  suffered,  and  seen  others  suffer,  it 
must  have  been  strong  enough,  and  the  rest  of  this  old  frame 
has  no  right  to  call  itself  weaker." 

"You  have  probably  witnessed  many  changes,"  said  the 
Lord  Keeper;  "but  your  experience  must  have  taught  you  to 
expect  them." 

"It  has  taught  me  to  endure  them,  my  lord,"  was  the 
reply. 

"Yet  you  knew  that  they  must  needs  arrive  in  the  course 
of  years  ?  "  said  the  statesman. 

"Ay  ;  as  I  knew  that  the  stump,  on  or  beside  which  you 
sit,  once  a  tall  and  lofty  tree,  must  needs  one  day  fall  byde^ 
cay,  or  by  the  axe ;  yet  I  hoped  my  eyes  might  not  witness  the 
downfall  of  the  tree  which  overshadowed  my  dwelling." 

"  Do  not  suppose,"  said  the  Lord  Keeper,  "  that  you  will 
lose  any  interest  with  me  for  looking  back  with  regret  to  the 
days  when  another  family  possessed  my  estates.  You  had 
reason,  doubtless,  to  love  them,  and  I  respect  your  gratitude. 
I  will  order  some  repairs  in  your  cottage,  and  I  hope  we 
shall  live  to  be  friends  when  we  know  each  other  better." 

"  Those  of  my  age,"  returned  the  dame,  "  make  no  new 
friends.  I  thank  you  for  your  bounty,  it  is  well  intended  un- 
doubtedly ;  but  I  have  all  I  want,  and  I  cannot  accept  more 
a.t  your  lordship's  hands." 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAM3IERM00R  87 

"Well,  then,"  continued  the  Lord  Keeper,  "at  least 
allow  me  to  say,  that  1  look  upon  you  as  a  woman  of  sense 
and  education  beyond  your  appearance,  and  that  I  hope  you 
will  continue  to  reside  on  this  pro^ierty  of  mine  rent-free  for 
your  life." 

"  I  hope  I  shall,"  said  the  old  dame,  composedly  ;  "I  be- 
lieve that  was  made  an  article  in  the  sale  of  Ravenswood  to 
your  lordship,  though  such  a  trifling  circumstance  may  have 
escaped  your  recollection." 

"I  remember — I  recollect,"  said  his  lordship,  somewhat 
confused.  "I  perceive  you  are  too  much  attached  to  your 
old  friends  to  accept  any  benefit  from  their  successor." 

"Far  from  it,  my  lord;  lam  grateful  for  the  benefits 
which  I  decline,  and  I  wish  I  could  pay  you  for  offering 
them,  better  than  what  I  am  now  about  to  say."  The  Lord 
Keeper  looked  at  her  in  some  surprise,  but  said  not  a  word. 
"  My  lord,"  she  continued,  in  an  impressive  and  solemn 
tone,  "  take  care  what  you  do  ;  you  are  on  the  brink  of  a  preci- 
pice. " 

'•Indeed  ?"  said  the  Lord  Keeper,  his  mind  reverting  to 
the  political  circumstances  of  the  country.  "  Has  anything 
come  to  your  knowledge — any  plot  or  conspiracy  ?  " 

"No,  my  lord  ;  those  who  traffic  in  such  commodities  do 
not  call  into  their  councils  the  old,  blind,  and  infirm.  My 
warning  is  of  another  kind.  You  have  driven  matters  hard 
with  the  house  of  Ravenswood.  Believe  a  true  tale  :  they  are 
a  fierce  house,  and  there  is  danger  in  dealing  with  men  when 
they  become  desperate." 

"  Tush,"  answered  the  Keeper  ;  "what  has  been  between 
us  has  been  the  work  of  the  law,  not  my  doing  ;_^  and  to  the 
law  they  must  look,  if  they  would  impugn  my  proceedings." 

"  Ay,  but  they  may  think  otherwise,  and  take  the  law 
into  their  own  hand,  when  they  fail  of  other  means  of  re- 
dress." 

"What  mean  you  ?"  said  the  Lord  Keeper.  "Young 
Ravenswood  would  not  have  recourse  to  personal  violence  ? 

"  God  forbid  I  should  say  so!  I  know  nothing  of  the 
youth  but  what  is  honorable  and  open.  Honorable  and  open, 
said  I  ?  I  should  have  added,  free,  generous,  noble.  But  he 
is  still  a  Ravenswood,  and  may  bide  his  time.  Remember  the 
fate  of  Sir  George  Lockhart."  * 

The  Lord  Keeper  started  as  she  called  to  his  recollection 
a  tragedy  so  deep  and  so  recent.  The  old  woman  proceeded  f 
"  Ohiesley,  who  did  the  deed,   was  a  relative  of  Lord  Ra* 

*  See  Note  2. 


88  WAVEliLEY  NOVELS 

venswood.  In  the  hall  of  Ravenswood,  in  my  presence  and 
in  that  of  others,  he  avowed  publicly  his  determination  to  do 
the  cruelty  which  he  afterwards  committed.  I  could  not 
keep  silence,  though  to  speak  it  ill  became  my  station.  '  You 
are  devising  a  dreadful  crime,'  I  said,  '  for  which  you  must 
reckon  before  the  judgment  seat.'  Never  shall  I  forget  his 
look,  as  he  replied,  '  I  must  reckon  then  for  many  things, 
and  will  reckon  for  this  also.'  Therefore  I  may  well  say, 
beware  of  pressing  a  desperate  man  with  the  hand  of  author- 
ity. There  is  blood  of  Chiesley  in  the  veins  of  Ravenswood, 
and  one  drop  of  it  were  enough  to  fire  him  in  the  circum- 
stances in  which  he  is  placed.     I  say.  beware  of  him." 

The  old  dame  had,  either  intentionally  or  by  accident, 
harped  aright  the  fear  of  the  Lord  Keeper.  The  desperate 
and  dark  resource  of  private  assassination,  so  familiar  to  a 
Scottish  baron  in  former  times,  had  even  in  the  present  age 
been  too  frequently  resorted  to  under  the  pressure  of  unusual 
temptation,  or  where  the  mind  of  the  actor  was  prepared  for 
such  a  crime.  Sir  William  Ashton  was  aware  of  this  ;  as  also 
that  young  Ravenswood  had  received  injuries  sufficient  to 
prompt  him  to  that  sort  of  revenge,  which  becomes  a  fre- 
quent though  fearful  consequence  of  the  partial  administra- 
tion of  justice.  He  endeavored  to  disguise  from  Alice  the 
nature  of  the  apprehensions  which  he  entertained  ;  but  so 
ineffectually,  that  a  person  even  of  less  penetration  than 
nature  had  endowed  her  with  must  necessarily  have  been 
aware  that  the  subject  lay  near  his  bosom.  His  voice  was 
changed  in  its  accent  as  he  replied  to  her,  "That  the  Master 
of  Ravenswood  was  a  man  of  honor  ;  and,  were  it  otherwise, 
that  the  fate  of  Chiesley  of  Dairy  was  a  sufficient  warning  to 
any  one  who  should  dare  to  assume  the  office  of  avenger  of 
his  own  imaginary  wrongs."  And  having  hastily  uttered 
these  expressions,  he  rose  and  left  the  place  without  waiting 
for  a  rex)ly. 


CHAPTEE  V 

Is  she  a  Capulet  ? 
O  dear  account !  my  life  is  my  foe's  debt. 

Shakespeare. 

The  Lord  Keeper  walked  for  nearly  a  quarter  of  a  mile  in 
profound  silence.  His  daughter,  naturally  timid,  and  bred 
up  in  those  ideas  of  filial  awe  and  implicit  obedience  which 
were  inculcated  upon  the  youth  of  that  period^,  did  not  ven- 
ture to  interrupt  liis  meditations. 

*'  Why  do  you  look  so  pale,  Lucy  ?  "  said  her  father,  turn- 
ing suddenly  round  and  breaking  silence. 

According  to  the  ideas  of  the  time,  which  did  not  permit 
a  young  woman  to  offer  her  sentiments  on  any  subject  of  im- 
portance unless  especially  required  to  do  so,  Lucy  was  bound 
to  appear  ignorant  of  the  meaning  of  all  that  had  passed  .be- 
twixt Alice  and  her  father,  and  imputed  the  emotion  he  had 
observed  to  the  fear  of  the  wild  cattle  which  grazed  in  that 
part  of  the  extensive  chase  through  which  they  were  now 
walking. 

Of  these  animals,  the  descendants  of  the  savage  herds 
which  anciently  roamed  free  in  the  Caledonian  forests,  it  was 
formerly  a  point  of  state  to  preserve  a  few  in  the  parks  of  the 
Scottish  nobility.  Specimens  continued  within  the  memory 
of  man  to  be  kept  at  least  at  three  houses  of  distinction — 
Hamilton,  namely,  Drumlanrig,  and  Cumbernauld.  They 
had  degenerated  from  the  ancient  race  in  size  and  strength, 
if  we  are  to  judge  from  the  accounts  of  old  chronicles,  and 
from  the  formidable  remains  frequently  discovered  in  bogs 
and  morasses  when  drained  and  laid  open.  The  bull  had 
lost  the  shaggy  honors  of  his  mane,  and  the  race  was  small 
and  light  made,  in  color  a  dingy  white,  or  rather  a  pale  yel- 
low, with  black  horns  and  hoofs.  They  retained,  however, 
in  some  measure,  the  ferocity  of  their  ancestry,  could  not  be 
domesticated  on  account  of  their  antipathy  to  the  human 
race,  and  were  often  dangerous  if  approached  unguardedly,  or 
wantonly  disturbed.  It  was  this  last  reason  which  has  oc- 
casioned their  being  extirpated  at  the  places  we  have  men- 
tioned, where   probably  they  would    otherwise    have    been 


40  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

retained  as  appropriate  inhabitants  of  a  Scottish  woodland, 
and  fit  tenants  for  a  baronial  forest.  A  few,  if  I  mistake 
not,  are  still  preserved  at  Chillingham  Castle,  in  Northum- 
berland, the  seat  of  the  Earl  of  Tankerville.* 

It  was  to  her  finding  herself  in  the  vicinity  of  a  group  of 
three  or  four  of  these  animals,  that  Lucy  thought  proper  to 
impute  those  signs  of  fear  which  had  arisen  in  her  counte- 
nance for  a  diiferent  reason.  For  she  had  been  familiarized 
with  the  appearance  of  the  wild  cattle  during  her  walks  in 
the  chase  ;  and  it  was  not  then,  as  it  may  be  now,  a  neces- 
sary part  of  a  young  lady's  demeanor,  to  indulge  in  causeless 
tremors  of  the  nerves.  On  the  present  occasion,  however, 
she  speedily  found  cause  for  real  terror, 

Lucy  had  scarcely  replied  to  her  father  in  the  words  we 
have  mentioned,  and  he  was  just  about  to  rebuke  her  sup- 
posed timidity,  when  a  bull,  stimulated  either  by  the  scarlet 
color  of  Miss  Ashton's  mantle,  or  by  one  of  those  fits  of 
capricious  ferocity  to  which  their  dispositions  are  liable, 
detached  himself  suddenly  from  the  group  which  w^as  feeding 
at  the  upper  extremity  of  a  grassy  glade,  that  seemed  to  lose 
itself  among  the  crossing  and  entangled  boughs.  The  animal 
approached  the  intruders  on  his  pasture  ground,  at  first 
slowly,  pawing  the  ground  with  his  hoof,  bellowing  from 
time  to  time,  and  tearing  up  the  sand  with  his  horns,  as  if 
to  lash  himself  up  to  rage  and  violence. 

The  Lord  Keeper,  who  observed  the  animal's  demeanor, 
was  aware  that  he  was  about  to  become  mischievous,  and, 
drawing  his  daughter's  arm  under  his  own,  began  to  walk 
fast  along  the  avenue,  in  hopes  to  get  out  of  his  sight  and  his 
reach.  This  was  the  most  injudicious  course  he  could 
have  adopted,  for,  encouraged  by  the  appearance  of  flight, 
the  bull  began  to  pursue  them  at  full  speed.  Assailed  by  a 
danger  so  imminent,  firmer  courage  than  that  of  the  Lord 
Keeper  might  have  given  way.  But  paternal  tenderness, 
"love  strong  as  death,"  sustained  him.  He  continued  to 
support  and  drag  onward  his  daughter,  until  her  fears  alto- 
gether depriving  her  of  the  power  of  flight,  she  sank  down 
by  his  side  ;  and  when  he  could  no  longer  assist  her  to  escape, 
he  turned  round  and  placed  himself  betwixt  her  and  the  rag- 
ing animal,  which,  advancing  in  fnll  career,  its  brutal  fury 
enhanced  by  the  rapidity  of  the  pursuit,  was  now  within  a  few 
yards  of  them.  The  Lord  Keeper  had  no  weapons  ;  his  age 
and  gravity  dispensed  even  with  the  usual  appendage  of  a 
walking  sword— could  such  appendage  have  availed  him  any- 
thim?. 


THE   BRIDE    OF  LAMMERMOOB  41 

It  seemed  inevitable,  that  the  father  or  daughter,  or  both, 
should  have  falleu  victims  to  the  impending  danger,  when  a 
shot  from  the  neighboring  thicket  arrested  the  progress  of 
the  animal.  He  was  so  truly  struck  between  the  junction  of 
the  spine  with  the  skull,  that  the  wound,  whicli  in  any  other 
part  of  his  body  might  scarce  have  impeded  his  career,  proved 
instantly  fatal.  Stumbling  forward  with  a  hideous  bellow, 
the  progressive  force  of  his  previous  motion,  rather  than  any 
operation  of  his  limbs,  carried  him  up  to  within  three  yards 
of  the  astonished  Lord  Keeper,  where  he  rolled  on  the  ground, 
his  limbs  darkened  with  the  black  death-sweat,  and  quivering 
with  the  last  convulsions  of  muscular  motion. 

Lucy  lay  senseless  on  the  ground,  insensible  of  the  won- 
derful deliverance  which  she  had  experienced.  Her  father 
was  almost  equally  stupefied,  so  rapid  and  unexpected  had 
been  the  transition  from  the  horrid  death  which  seemed 
inevitable  to  perfect  security.  He  gazed  on  the  animal,  terri- 
ble even  in  death,  with  a  species  of  mute  and  confused  aston- 
ishment, which  did  not  permit  him  distinctly  to  understand 
what  had  taken  place  ;  and  so  inaccurate  was  his  conscious- 
ness of  what  liad  passed,  that  he  might  have  supposed  the  bull 
had  been  arrested  in  its  career  by  a  thunderbolt,  had  he  no<i 
observed  among  the  branches  of  the  thicket  the  figure  of  a 
man,  with  a  short  gun  or  musquetoon  in  his  hand. 

This  instantly  recalled  him  to  a  sense  of  their  situation  :  a 
glance  at  his  daughter  reminded  him  of  the  necessity  of  pro- 
curing her  assistance.  He  called  to  the  man,  whom  he  con- 
cluded to  be  one  of  his  foresters,  to  give  immediate  attention 
to  Miss  Ashk)n,  while  he  himself  hastened  to  call  assistance. 
The  huntsman  approached  them  accordingly,  and  the  Lord 
Keeper  saw  he  was  a  stranger,  but  was  too  much  agitated  to 
make  any  farther  remarks.  In  a  few  hurried  words  he  directed 
the  shooter,  as  stronger  and  more  active  than  himself,  to 
carry  the  young  lady  to  a  neighboring  fountain,  while  he  went 
back  to  Alice's  hut  to  procure  more  aid. 

The  man  to  whose  timely  interference  they  had  been  so 
much  indebted  did  not  seem  inclined  to  leave  his  good  work 
half  finished.  He  raised  Lucy  from  the  ground  in  his  arms, 
and  conveying  her  through  the  glades  of  the  forest  by  paths 
with  which  he  seemed  well  acquainted,  stopped  not  until  he 
laid  her  in  safety  by  the  side  of  a  plentiful  and  pellucid  foun- 
tain, which  had  been  once  covered  in,  screened  and  decorated 
with  architectural  ornaments  of  a  Gothic  character.  But  now 
the  vault  which  had  covered  it  being  broken  down  and  riven, 
and  the  Gothic  font  ruined  and  demolished,  the  stream  buret 


42  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

forth  from  the  recess  of  the  earth  in  open  day,  and  winded  its 
way  among  the  broken  sculpture  and  moss-grown  stones 
which  lay  in  confusion  around  its  source. 

Tradition,  always  busy,  at  least  in  Scotland,  to  grace  with 
a  legendary  tale  a  spot  in  itself  interesting,  had  ascribed  a 
cause  of  peculiar  veneration  to  this  fountain.  A  beautiful 
young  lady  met  one  of  the  Lords  of  Raveuswood  while  hunt- 
ing near  this  spot,  and,  like  a  second  Egeria,  had  captivated 
the  affections  of  the  feudal  Numa.  They  met  frequently  af- 
terwards, and  always  at  sunset,  the  charms  of  the  nymph's 
mind  completing  the  conquest  which  her  beauty  had  begun, 
and  the  mystery  of  the  intrigue  adding  zest  to  both.  She 
always  appeared  and  disappeared  close  by  the  fountain,  with 
which,  therefore,  her  lover  judged  she  had  some  inexplicable 
connection.  She  placed  certain  restrictions  on  their  inter- 
course, which  also  savored  of  mystery.  They  met  only  once 
a  week — Friday  was  the  appointed  day — and  she  explained  to 
the  Lord  of  Ravenswood  that  they  were  under  the  necessity 
of  separating  as  soon  as  the  bell  of  a  chapel  belonging  to  a  her- 
mitage in  the  adjoining  wood,  now  long  ruinous,  should  toll 
the  hour  of  vespers.  In  the  course  of  his  confession,  the  Baron 
of  Ravenswood  intrusted  the  hermit  with  the  secret  of  this 
singular  amour,  and  Father  Zachary  drew  the  necessary  and 
obvious  consequence  that  his  patron  was  enveloped  in  the  toils 
of  Satan,  and  in  danger  of  destruction,  both  to  body  and  soul. 
He  urged  these  perils  to  the  Baron  with  all  the  force  of  monk- 
ish rhetoric,  and  described,  in  the  most  frightful  colors,  the 
real  character  and  person  of  the  apparently  lovely  Naiad,  whom 
he  hesitated  not  to  denounce  as  a  limb  of  the  kingdom  of 
darkness.  The  lover  listened  with  obstinate  incredulity ; 
audit  was  not  until  worn  out  by  the  obstinacy  of  the  anchoret 
that  he  consented  to  put  the  state  and  condition  of  his  mis- 
tress to  a  certain  trial,  and  for  that  purpose  acquiesced  in 
Zachary's  proposal  that  on  their  next  interview  the  vespers 
bell  should  be  rung  half  an  hour  later  than  usual.  The  her- 
mit maintained  and  bucklered  his  opinion,  by  quotations  from 
Malleus  Malificarum,  Sprengerus,  Remigius,  and  other  learned 
demonologists,  that  the  Evil  One,  thus  seduced  to  remain  be- 
hind the  appointed  hour,  would  assume  her  true  shape,  and, 
having  appeared  to  her  terrified  lover  as  a  fiend  of  hell,  would 
vanish  from  him  in  a  flash  of  sulphurous  lightning.  Ray- 
mond of  Ravenswood  acquiesced  in  the  experiment,  not 
incurious  concerning  the  issue,  though  confident  it  would  dis- 
appoint the  expectations  of  the  hermit. 

At  the  appointed  hour  the  lovers  met,  and  their  interview 


Lucy   Ashton  at  the   Fountain. 


TEE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  43 

was  protracted  beyond  that  at  which  they  usually  parted,  by 
the  delay  of  the  priest  to  ring  his  usual  curfew.  No  change 
took  place  upon  the  nymph's  outward  form ;  but  as  soon  as 
the  lengthening  shadows  made  her  aware  that  the  usual  hour 
of  the  vespers  chime  was  passed,  siie  tore  herself  from  her 
lover's  arms  with  a  shriek  of  despair,  bid  him  adieu  forever, 
and,  plunging  into  the  fountain,  disappeared  from  his  eyes. 
The  bubbles  occasioned  by  her  descent  were  crimsoned  with 
blood  as  they  arose,  leading  the  distracted  Baron  to  infer  that 
his  ill-judged  curiosity  had  occasioned  the  death  of  this  inter- 
esting and  mysterious  being.  The  remorse  which  he  felt,  as 
well  as  the  recollection  of  her  charms,  proved  the  penance  of 
his  future  life,  which  he  lost  in  the  battle  of  Flodden  not 
many  months  after.  But,  in  memory  of  his  Naiad,  he  had 
previously  ornamented  the  fountain  in  which  she  appeared 
to  reside,  and  secured  its  waters  from  profanation  or  pollu- 
tion by  the  small  vaulted  building  of  which  the  fragments 
still  remained  scattered  around  it.  From  this  period  the 
house  of  Ravenswood  was  supposed  to  have  dated  its  decay. 

Such  was  the  generally-received  legend,  which  some,  who 
would  seem  wiser  than  the  vulgar,  explained  as  obscurely  inti- 
mating the  fate  of  a  beautiful  maid  of  plebeian  rank,  the 
mistress  of  this  Eaymond,  whom  he  slew  in  a  fit  of  jealousy, 
and  whose  blood  was  mingled  with  the  waters  of  the  locked 
fountain,  as  it  was  commonly  called.  Others  imagined  that 
the  tale  had  a  more  remote  origin  in  the  ancient  heathen 
mythology.  All,  however,  agreed  that  the  spot  was  fatal  to 
the  Ravenswood  family ;  and  that  to  drink  of  the  waters  of 
the  well,  or  even  approach  its  brink,  was  as  ominous  to  a 
descendant  of  that  house  as  for  a  Grahame  to  wear  green,  a 
Bruce  to  kill  a  spider,  or  a  St.  Clair  to  cross  the  Ord  on  a 
Monday. 

It  was  on  this  ominous  spot  that  Lucy  Ashton  first  drew 
breath  after  her  long  and  almost  deadly  swoon.  Beautiful 
and  pale  as  the  fabulous  Naiad  in  the  last  agony  of  separation 
from  her  lover,  she  was  seated  so  as  to  rest  with  her  back 
against  a  part  of  the  ruined  wall,  while  her  mantle,  dripping 
with  the  water  which  her  protector  had  used  profusely  to  re- 
call her  senses,  clung  to  her  slender  and  beautifully  propor- 
tioned form. 

The  first  moment  of  recollection  brought  to  her  mind  the 
danger  which  had  overpowered  her  senses ;  the  next  called  to 
remembrance  that  of  her  father.  She  looked  around  ;  he  was 
nowhere  to  be  seen.  "  My  father,  my  father  ! "  was  all  that  she 
could  ejaculate. 


14  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

"  Sir  William  is  safe,"  answered  the  voice  of  a  stranger— 
"perfectly  safe,  and  will  be  with  you  instantly." 

"  Are  you  sure  of  that  ?"  exclaimed  Lucy.  ''The  bull 
was  close  by  us.  Do  not  stop  me  :  I  must  go  to  seek  my 
father  ! " 

And  she  arose  with  that  purpose  ;  but  her  strength  was 
so  much  exhausted  that,  far  from  possessing  the  power  to 
execute  her  purpose,  she  must  have  fallen  against  the  stone 
on  which  she  had  leaned,  probably  not  without  sustaining 
serious  injury. 

The  stranger  was  so  near  to  her  that,  without  actually 
suffering  her  to  fall,  he  could  not  avoid  catching  her  in  his 
arms,  which,  however,  he  did  with  a  momentary  reluctance, 
very  unusual  when  youth  interposes  to  prevent  beauty  from 
danger.  It  seemed  as  if  her  weight,  slight  as  it  was,  proved 
too  heavy  for  her  young  and  athletic  assistant,  for,  without 
feeling  the  temptation  of  detaining  her  in  his  arms  even  for 
a  single  instant,  he  again  placed  her  on  the  stone  from  which 
she  had  risen,  and  retreating  a  few  steps,  repeated  hastily, 
"  Sir  William  Ashton  is  perfectly  safe,  and  will  be  here  in- 
stantly. Do  not  make  yourself  anxious  on  his  account : 
Fate  has  singularly  preserved  him.  You,  madam,  are  ex- 
hausted, and  must  not  think  of  rising  until  you  have  some 
assistance  more  suitable  than  mine." 

Lucy,  whose  senses  were  by  this  time  more  effectually 
collected,  was  naturally  led  to  look  at  the  stranger  with  at- 
tention. There  was  nothing  in  his  appearance  which  should 
have  rendered  him  unwilling  to  offer  his  arm  to  a  young 
lady  who  required  support,  or  which  could  have  induced  her 
to  refuse  his  assistance  ;  and  she  could  not  help  thinking, 
even  in  that  moment,  that  he  seemed  cold  and  reluctant  to 
offer  it.  A  shooting-dress  of  dark  cloth  intimated  the  rank 
of  the  wearer,  though  concealed  in  part  by  a  large  and  loose 
cloak  of  a  dark  brown  color.  A  montero  cap  and  a  black 
feather  drooped  over  the  wearer's  brow,  and  partly  concealed 
his  features,  which,  so  far  as  seen,  were  dark,  regular,  and 
full  of  majestic,  though  somewhat  sullen,  expression.  Some 
secret  sorrow,  or  the  brooding  spirit  of  some  moody  passion, 
had  quenched  the  light  and  ingenuous  vivacity  of  youth  in  a 
countenance  singularly  fitted  to  display  both,  and  it  was  not 
easy  to  gaze  on  the  stranger  without  a  secret  impression 
either  of  pity  or  awe,  or  at  least  of  doubt  and  curiosity  allied 
to  both. 

The  impression  which  we  have  necessarily  been  long  in 
describing,  Lucy  felt  in  the  glance  of  a  moment,  and  had  no 


THE  BRIDE   OF  LAMMERMOOR  45 

sooner  encountered  the  keen  black  eyes  of  the  stranger  than 
her  own  were  bent  on  the  ground  witli  a  mixture  of  bashful 
embarrassment  and  fear.  Yet  there  was  a  necessity  to  speak, 
or  at  least  she  thought  so,  and  in  a  fluttered  accent  she  began 
to  mention  her  wonderful  escape,  in  which  she  was  sure  that 
the  stranger  must,  under  Heaven,  have  been  her  father's  pro- 
tector and  her  own. 

He  seemed  to  shrink  from  her  expressions  of  gratitude, 
while  he  replied  abruptly,  "  I  leave  you,  madam,"  the  deep 
melody  of  his  voice  rendered  powerful,  but  not  harsh,  by 
something  like  a  severity  of  tone — "  I  leave  you  to  the  pro- 
tection of  those  to  Vt-honi  it  is  possible  you  may  have  this  day 
been  a  guardian  angel." 

Lucy  was  surprised  at  the  ambiguity  of  his  language, 
and,  with  a  feeling  of  artless  and  unaffected  gratitude,  began 
to  deprecate  the  idea  of  having  intended  to  give  her  deliverer 
any  oUence,  as  if  such  a  thing  had  been  possible.  "  I  have 
been  unfortunate,"  she  said,  "in  endeavoring  to  express  my 
thanks — I  am  sure  it  must  be  so,  though  I  cannot  recollect 
what  I  said  ;  but  would  you  but  stay  till  my  father — till  the 
Lord  Keeper  comes  ;  would  you  only  permit  him  to  pay  you 
his  thanks,  and  to  inquire  your  name  ?  " 

"  My  name  is  unnecessary,"  answered  the  stranger ; 
''your  father — I  would  rather  say  Sir  William  Ashton — will 
learn  it  soon  enough,  for  all  the  pleasure  it  is  likely  to  afl'ord 
him." 

"  You  mistake  him,"  said  Lucy,  earnestly  ;  "he  will  be 
grateful  for  my  sake  and  for  his  own.  You  do  not  know  my 
father,  or  you  are  deceiving  me  with  a  story  of  his  safety, 
when  he  has  already  fallen  a  victim  to  the  fury  of  that 
animal." 

When  she  had  caught  this  idea,  she  started  from  the 
ground  and  endeavored  to  press  towards  the  avenue  in  which 
the  accident  had  taken  place,  while  the  stranger,  though  he 
seeuied  to  hesitate  between  the  desire  to  assist  and  the  wish 
to  leave  her,  was  obliged,  in  common  humanity,  to  oppose 
her  both  by  entreaty  and  action. 

"  On  the  word  of  a  gentleman,  madam,  I  tell  you  the 
truth  ;  your  father  is  in  perfect  safety  ;  you  will  expose  your- 
self to  injury  if  you  venture  back  where  the  herd  of  wild  cat- 
tle grazed.  If  you  will  go" — for,  having  once  adopted  the 
idea  that  her  father  was  still  in  danger,  she  pressed  forward 
in  spite  of  him — "'  if  you  will  go,  accept  my  arm,  though  I 
am  not  perhaps  the  person  who  can  with  most  propriety  offer 
you  support." 


46  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

But,  without  lieeding  this  intimation,  Lucy  took  him  at 
his  word.  "0,  if  you  be  u  man,"  she  said — "if  you  be  a 
gentleman,  assist  me  to  find  my  father  !  You  shall  not  leave 
me — you  must  go  with  me  ;  he  is  dying  perhaps  while  we  are 
talking  here ! " 

Then,  without  listening  to  excuse  or  apology,  and  holding 
fast  by  the  stranger's  arm,  though  unconscious  of  anything 
save  the  support  which  it  gave,  and  without  which  she  could 
not  have  moved,  mixed  with  a  vague  feeling  of  preventing  his 
escape  from  her,  she  was  urging,  and  almost  dragging,  him 
forward  when  Sir  William  Ashton  came  up,  followed  by  the 
female  attendant  of  blind  Alice,  and  by  two  wood-cutters, 
whom  he  had  summoned  from  their  occupation  to  his  assist- 
ance. His  joy  at  seeing  his  daughter  safe  overcame  the  sur- 
prise with  which  he  would  at  another  time  have  beheld  her 
hanging  as  familiarly  on  the  arm  of  a  stranger  as  she  might 
have  done  upon  his  own. 

"Lucy,  my  dear  Lucy,  are  you  safe? — are  you  well?" 
were  the  only  words  that  broke  from  him  as  he  embraced  her 
in  ecstasy. 

"I  am  well,  sir,  thank  God  !  and  still  more  that  I  see  you 
so  ;  but  this  gentleman,"  she  said,  quitting  his  arm  and  shrink- 
ing from  him,  "what  must  he  think  of  me  ?  "  and  her  eloquent 
blood,  flushing  over  neck  and  brow,  spoke  how  much  she  was 
ashamed  of  the  freedom  with  which  she  had  craved,  and  even 
compelled,  his  assistance. 

"  This  gentleman,"  said  Sir  William  Ashton,  "  will,  I  trust, 
not  regret  the  trouble  we  have  given  him,  when  I  assure  him 
of  the  gratitude  of  the  Lord  Keeper  for  the  greatest  service 
which  one  man  ever  rendered  to  another — for  the  life  of  my 
child — for  my  own  life,  which  he  has  saved  by  his  bravery 
and  presence  of  mind.  He  will,  I  am  sure,  permit  us  to  re- 
quest  " 

"Request  nothing  of  me,  my  lord,"  said  the  stranger,  in 
a  stern  and  peremptory  tone  ;  "I  am  the  Master  of  Ravens- 
wood." 

There  was  a  dead  pause  of  surprise,  not  unmixed  with  less 
pleasant  feelings.  The  Master  wrapped  himself  in  his  cloak, 
made  a  haughty  inclination  towards  Lucy,  muttering  a  few 
words  of  courtesy,  as  indistinctly  heard  as  they  seemed  to  be 
reluctantly  uttered,  and,  turning  from  them,  was  immediately 
lost  in  the  thicket. 

"  The  Master  of  Ravenswood  ! "  said  the  Lord  Keeper, 
when  he  had  recovered  his  momentary  astonishment.  "'  Has- 
ten after  him — stop  him — beg  him  to  speak  to  me  for  a  sin- 
gle moment." 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  47 

The  two  foresters  accordingly  set  off  in  pursuit  of  the 
stranger.  They  speedily  reappeared,  and,  in  an  embarrassed 
and  awkward  manner,  said  the  gentleman  would  not  return. 

The  Lord  Keeper  took  one  of  the  fellows  aside,  and 
questioned  him  more  closely  what  the  Master  of  Eavenswood 
had  said. 

"He  just  said  he  wadna  come  back,"  said  the  man,  with 
the  caution  of  a  prudent  Scotchman,  who  cared  not  to  be  the 
bearer  of  an  unpleasant  errand. 

"  He  said  something  more,  sir,"  said  the  Lord  Keeper, 
"  and  I  insist  on  knowing  what  it  was." 

"'  Why,  then,  my  lord,"  said  the  man,  looking  down,  "he 

said But  it  wad  be  nae  pleasure  to  your  lordship  to  hear 

it,  for  I  dare  say  the  Master  meant  nae  ill." 

"  That's  none  of  your  concern,  sir  ;  I  desire  to  hear  the 
very  words." 

"  Weel,  then,"  replied  the  man,  "he  said,  'Tell  Sir 
William  Ashton  that  the  next  time  he  and  I  forgather,  he 
will  not  be  half  sae  blithe  of  our  meeting  as  of  our  part- 
ing.'" 

"Very  well,  sir,"  said  the  Lord  Keeper,  "I  believe  he 
alludes  to  a  wager  we  have  on  our  hawks  ;  it  is  a  matter  of 
no  consequence." 

He  turned  to  his  daughter,  who  was  by  this  time  so  much 
recovered  as  to  be  able  to  walk  home.  But  the  effect,  which 
the  various  recollections  connected  with  a  scene  so  terrific 
made  upon  a  mind  which  was  susceptible  in  an  extreme  degree, 
was  more  permanent  than  the  injury  which  her  nerves  had 
sustained.  Visions  of  terror,  both  in  sleep  and  in  waking 
reveries,  recalled  to  her  the  form  of  the  furious  animal,  and 
the  dreadful  bellow  with  which  he  accompanied  his  career  ; 
and  it  was  always  the  image  of  the  Master  of  Eavenswood, 
with  his  native  nobleness  of  countenance  and  form,  that 
seemed  to  interpose  betwixt  her  and  assured  death.  It  is, 
perhaps,  at  all  times  dangerous  for  a  young  person  to  suffer 
recollection  to  dwell  repeatedly,  and  with  too  much  com- 
placency, on  the  same  individual ;  but  in  Lucy's  situation  it 
was  almost  unavoidable.  She  had  never  happened  to  see  a 
young  man  of  mien  and  features  so  romantic  and  so  striking 
as  young  Eavenswood  ;  but  had  she  seen  a  hundred  his 
equals  or  liis  superiors  in  those  particulars,  no  one  else  could 
have  been  linked  to  her  heart  by  the  strong  associations  of 
:jemembered  danger  and  escape,  of  gratitude,  wonder,  and 
curiosity.  I  say  curiosity,  for  it  is  likely  that  the  singularly 
restrained  and  unaccommodating  manners  of  the  Master  of 


48  WAVE  RLE  Y  NOVELS 

Raveiiswood,  so  much  at  variance  with  the  natural  expres- 
sion of  his  features  and  grace  of  his  deportment,  as  they  ex- 
cited wonder  by  the  contrast,  had  their  etfect  in  riveting  her 
attention  to  the  recollection.  She  knew  little  of  Ravenswood, 
or  the  disputes  which  had  existed  betwixt  her  father  and  his, 
aad  parhaps  could  in  her  gentleness  of  mind  hardly  have 
comprehended  the  angry  and  bitter  passions  which  they  had 
engendei'ed.  Bat  she  knew  that  he  was  come  of  noble  stem  ; 
was  poor,  though  descended  from  the  noble  and  the  wealthy ; 
and  she  felt  that  she  could  sympathize  with  the  feelings  of  a 
proud  mind,  which  urged  him  to  recoil  from  the  proffered 
gratitude  of  tlie  new  proprietors  of  his  father's  house  and 
domains.  Would  he  have  equally  shunned  their  acknowledg- 
ments and  avoided  their  intimacy,  had  her  father's  request 
been  urged  more  mildly,  less  abruptly,  and  softened  with  the 
grace  which  women  so  well  know  how  to  throw  into  their 
manner,  when  they  mean  to  mediate  betwixt  the  headlong 
passions  of  the  ruder  sex  ?  This  was  a  perilous  question  to 
ask  her  own  mind — perilous  both  in  the  idea  and  in  its  conse- 
quences. 

Lucy  Ashton,  in  short,  was  involved  in  those  mazes  of  the 
imagination  which  are  most  dangerous  to  the  young  and  the 
sensitive.  Time,  it  is  true,  absence,  change  of  scene  and  new 
faces,  might  probably  have  destroyed  the  illusion  in  her  in- 
stance, as  it  has  done  in  many  others ;  but  her  residence 
remained  solitary,  and  her  mind  without  those  means  of  dissi- 
pating her  pleasing  visions.  This  solitude  was  chiefly  owing 
to  the  absence  of  Lady  Ashton,  who  was  at  this  time  in 
Eiiuburgli,  watching  the  progress  of  some  state-intrigue  ;  the 
Lord  Keeper  only  received  society  out  of  policy  or  ostentation, 
and  was  by  nature  rather  reserved  and  unsociable  ;  and  thus 
no  cavalier  appeared  to  rival  or  to  obscure  the  ideal  picture  of 
chivalrous  excellence  which  Lucy  had  pictured  to  herself  iu 
the  M  ister  of  Ravenswood. 

While  Lucy  indulged  in  these  dreams,  she  made  frequent 
visits  to  old  blind  Alice,  hoping  it  would  be  easy  to  lead  her 
to  talk  on  the  subject  which  at  present  she  had  so  imprudently 
admitt3l  to  03cupy  so  large  a  portion  of  her  thoughts.  But 
Alice  did  not  in  this  particular  gratify  her  wishes  and  expec- 
tations. She  spoke  readily,  and  with  pathetic  feeling,  con- 
cerning the  fainily  in  general,  but  seemed  to  observe  an 
especial  and  cautious  silence  on  the  subject  of  the  present 
representative.  The  little  she  said  of  him  was  not  altogether 
so  favorable  as  Lucy  had  anticipated.  She  hinted  that  he  was 
of  a  stern  and  unforgiving  character,  more  ready  to  resent 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  49 

than  to  pardon  injuries  ;  and  Lucy  combined,  witli  great 
alarm,  the  hints  which  she  now  dropped  of  these  dangerous 
qualities  with  Alice's  advice  to  her  father,  so  emphatically 
given,  ''to  beware  of  Kavenswood." 

But  that  very  Ravenswood,  of  whom  such  unjust  suspi- 
cions had  been  entertained,  had,  almost  immediately  after  they 
had  been  uttered,  confuted  them  by  saving  at  once  her 
father's  life  and  her  own.  Had  he  nourished  such  black  re- 
venge as  Alice's  dark  hints  seemed  to  indicate,  no  deed  of 
active  guilt  was  necessary  to  the  full  gratification  of  that  evil 
passion.  He  needed  but  to  have  withheld  for  an  instant  his 
indispensable  and  effective  assistance,  and  the  object  of  his 
resentment  must  iiave  perished,  without  any  direct  aggression 
on  his  part,  by  a  death  equally  fearful  and  certain.  (She  con- 
ceived, therefore,  that  some  secret  prejudice,  or  the  suspi- 
cions incident  to  age  and  misfortune,  had  led  Alice  to  form 
conclusions  injurious  to  the  character,  and  irreconcilable  both 
with  the  generous  conduct  and  noble  features,  of  tlie  Master 
of  Ravenswood.  And  in  this  belief  Lucy  re^Dosed  her  hope, 
and  went  on  weaving  her  enchanted  web  of  fairy  tissue,  as 
beautiful  and  transient  as  the  film  of  the  gossamer  when  it  is 
pearled  with  tlie  morning  dew  and  glimmering  to  the  sun. 

Her  father,  in  the  mean  while,  as  well  as  the  Master  of 
Ravenswood,  were  making  reflections,  as  frequent  though 
more  solid  than  those  of  Lucy,  upon  the  singular  event  which 
had  taken  place.  The  Lord  Keeper's  first  task,  when  he  re- 
turned home,  was  to  ascertain  by  medical  advice  that  his 
daughter  had  sustained  no  injury  from  the  dangerous  and 
alarming  situation  in  which  she  had  been  placed.  Satisfied 
on  this  topic,  he  proceeded  to  revise  the  memoranda  which 
he  had  taken  down  from  the  mouth  of  the  person  employed 
to  interrupt  the  funeral  service  of  the  late  Lord  Ravenswood. 
Bred  to  casuistry,  and  well  accustomed  to  practise  the  ambi- 
dexter ingenuity  of  the  bar,  it  cost  him  little  trouble  to  soften 
the  features  of  the  tumult  which  he  had  been  at  first  so  anx- 
ious to  exaggerate.  He  preached  to  his  colleagnes  of  the 
privy  council  the  necessity  of  using  conciliatory  measures 
with  young  men,  whose  blood  and  temper  were  hot,  and  their 
experience  of  life  limited.  He  did  not  hesitate  to  attribute 
some  censure  to  the  conduct  of  the  officer,  as  having  been 
unnecessarily  irritating. 

These  were  the  contents  of  his  public  dispatches.  The 
letters  which  he  wrote  to  those  private  friends  into  whose 
management  the  matter  was  likely  to  fall  were  of  a  yet  more 
favorable  tenor.     He  represented  that  lenity  in  this  case  would 


50  WAVEBLEY  NOVELS 

be  equally  politic  and  popular,  whereas,  considering  the  high 
respect  with  which  tlie  rites  of  interment  are  regarded  in 
Scotland,  any  severity  exercised  against  the  Master  of  Eavens- 
wood  for  protecting  those  of  his  father  from  interruption, 
would  be  on  all  sides  most  unfavorably  construed.  And, 
finally,  assuming  the  language  of  a  generous  and  high-spirited 
man,  he  made  it  his  particular  request  that  this  ali'air  should 
be  passed  over  without  severe  notice.  He  alluded  with  deli- 
cacy to  the  predicament  in  which  he  himself  stood  with  young 
Ravenswood,  as  having  succeeded  in  the  long  train  of  litiga- 
tion by  which  the  fortunes  of  that  noble  house  had  been  so 
much  reduced,  and  confessed  it  would  be  most  peculiarly 
acceptable  to  his  own  feelings,  could  he  find  means  in  some 
sort  to  counterbalance  the  disadvantages  which  he  had  occa- 
sioned the  family,  though  only  in  the  prosecution  of  his  just 
and  lawful  rights.  He  therefore  made  it  his  particular  and 
personal  request  that  the  matter  should  have  no  farther  con- 
sequences, and  insinuated  a  desire  that  he  himself  should  have 
the  merit  of  having  put  a  stop  to  it  by  his  favorable  report 
and  intercession.  It  was  particularly  remarkable  that,  con- 
trary to  his  uniform  practice,  he  made  no  special  communica- 
tion to  Lady  Ashton  upon  the  subject  of  the  tumult ;  and 
although  he  mentioned  the  alarm  which  Lucy  had  received 
from  one  of  the  wild  cattle,  yet  he  gave  no  detailed  account  of 
an  incident  so  interesting  and  terrible. 

There  was  much  surprise  among  Sir  William  Ashton's 
political  friends  and  colleagues  on  receiving  letters  of  a  tenor 
so  unexpected.  On  comparing  notes  together,  one  smiled,  one 
put  up  his  eyebrows,  a  third  nodded  acquiescence  in  the  gen- 
eral wonder,  and  a  fourth  asked  if  they  were  sure  these  were 
all  the  letters  the  Lord  Keeper  had  written  on  the  subject. 
*'It  runs  strangely  in  my  mind,  my  lords,  that  none  of  these 
advices  contain  the  root  of  the  matter." 

But  no  secret  letters  of  a  contrary  nature  had  been  re- 
ceived, although  the  question  seemed  to  imply  the  possibility 
of  their  existence. 

"Well,"  said  an  old  gray-headed  statesman,  who  had  con- 
trived, by  shifting  and  trimming,  to  maintain  his  post  at  the 
steerage  through  all  the  changes  of  course  which  the  vessel 
had  held  for  thirty  years,  "  I  thought  Sir  William  would  hae 
verified  the  auld  Scottish  saying,  'As  soon  comes  the  lamb's 
skin  to  market  as  the  auld  tup's. ^  " 

"  We  must  please  him  after  his  own  fashion,"  said  anoth- 
er, '*  though  it  be  an  unlooked-for  one." 

"  A  wilful  man  maun  hae  his  way,"  answered  the  old 
counsellor. 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LA3IMERM00R  51 

"The  Keeper  will  rue  this  before  year  and  day  are  out/* 
said  a  third  ;  "the  Master  of  Eavenswood  is  the  lad  to  wind 
him  a  pirn." 

"  Why,  what  would  you  do,  my  lords,  with  the  poor  young 
fellow  ?"  said  a  noble  Marquis  present.  "  The  Lord  Keeper 
has  got  all  his  estates  ;  he  has  not  a  cross  to  bless  himself 
with." 

On  which  the  ancient  Lord  Turutippet  replied, 

"  If  he  hasna  gear  to  fine, 
He  has  shins  to  pine. 

And  that  was  our  way  before  the  Revolution  :  Luitur  cum 
perfiona,  qui  luere  non  potest  cum  crumena.  Hegh,  my  lords, 
that's  gude  law  Latin." 

"1  can  see  no  motive,"  replied  the  Marquis,  "that  any 
noble  lord  can  have  for  urging  this  matter  farther ;  let  the 
Lord  Keeper  have  the  power  to  deal  in  it  as  he  pleases." 

"Agree,  agree — remit  to  the  Lord  Keeper,  with  any  other 
person  for  fashion's  sake — Lord  Hirplehooly,  who  is  bed- 
ridden— ^one  to  be  a  quorum.  Make  your  entry  in  the 
minutes,  Mr.  Clerk.  And  now,  my  lords,  there  is  that  young 
scattergood  the  Laird  of  Bucklaw's  fine  to  be  disponed  upon. 
I  suppose  it  goes  to  my  Lord  Treasurer  ?" 

"  Sliamo  be  in  my  meal-poke,  then,"  exclaimed  Lord  Turn- 
tippst,  "and your  hand  aye  in  the  nook  of  it !  I  had  set  that 
down  for  a  bye-bit  between  meals  for  mysell." 

"To  use  one  of  your  favorite  saws,  my  lord,"  replied  the 
Marquis,  "you  are  like  the  miller's  dog,  that  licks  his  lips 
befor3  the  bag  is  untied  :  the  man  is  not  fined  yet." 

"  But  that  costs  but  twa  skarts  of  a  pen,"  said  Lord  Turn- 
tippet  ;  "and  surely  there  is  nae  noble  lord  that  will  presume 
t3  siy  t'lat  I,  wha  hae  complied  wi'  a'  compliances,  taen  all 
manner  of  tests,  abjured  all  that  was  to  be  abjured,  and 
sworn  a'  that  was  to  be  sworn,  for  these  thirty  years  bye-past, 
sticking  fast  by  my  duty  to  the  state  through  good  report  and 
bad  report,  shouldna  hae  something  now  and  then  to  synd 
my  mouth  wi'  after  sic  drouthy  wark  ?     Eh  ?" 

"It  would  be  very  unreasonable  indeed,  my  lord."  replied 
the  Marquis,  "had  we  either  thought  that  your  lordship's 
drought  was  quenchable,  or  observed  anything  stick  in  your 
throat  that  required  washing  down." 

And  so  we  close  the  scene  on  the  privy  council  of  that 
period. 


CHAPTER  VI 

For  this  are  all  these  warriors  come, 

To  hear  an  idle  tale ; 
And  o'er  our  death-accustom'd  arms 
Shall  silly  tears  prevail  ? 

Henry  Mackenzie. 

On  the  evening  of  the  day  when  tlie  Lord  Keeper  and  hit 
daughter  were  saved  from  such  imminent  peril,  two  strangers 
were  seated  in  tlie  most  private  apartment  of  a  small  obscure 
inn,  or  rather  alehouse,  called  the  Tod's  Den  [Hole],  about 
three  or  four  [five  or  six]  miles  from  the  Castle  of  Kavens- 
wood,  and  as  far  from  the  ruinous  tower  of  Wolf's  Crag,  be- 
twixt which  two  j^laces  it  was  situated. 

One  of  these  strangers  was  about  forty  years  of  age,  tall, 
and  thin  in  tlie  flanks,  with  an  aquiline  nose,  dark  penetrat- 
ing eyes,  and  a  shrewd  but  sinister  cast  of  countenance, 
other  was  about  fifteen  years  younger,  short,  stout,  ruudy- 
faced,  and  red-liaired,  with  an  open,  resolute,  and  cheerful 
eye,  to  which  careless  and  fearless  freedom  and  inward  daring 
gave  fire  and  expression,  notwithstanding  its  light  gray  color. 
A  stoup  of  wine  (for  in  those  days  it  was  served  out  from  the 
cask  in  pewter  flagons)  was  placed  on  the  table,  and  each 
had  his  quaigh  or  bicker  before  him.  But  there  was  little 
appearance  of  conviviality.  With  foHed  arms  and  looks  of 
anxious  expectation,  they  eyed  each  other  in  silence,  each 
wrapped  in  his  own  thoughts,  and  holding  no  communication 
with  his  neighbor.  At  lengtli  tlie  younger  broke  silence  by 
exclaiming,  "  What  the  foul  fiend  can  detain  the  Master  so 
long  ?  He  must  have  miscarried  in  his  enterprise.  Why  did 
you  dissuade  me  from  going  with  him  ?  " 

"  One  man  is  enough  to  right  his  own  wrong,"  said  the 
taller  and  older  personage  ;  "we  venture  our  lives  for  him  in 
coming  thus  far  on  such  an  errand." 

''You  are  but  a  craven  after  all,  Craigengelt,"  answered 
the  younger,  "'and  that's  what  many  folk  have  thought  you 
before  now." 

"  But  what  none  has  dared  to  tell  me,''  said  Craigengelt, 
laying  his  hand  ou  the  hilt  of  his  sword  ;  "  and,  but  that  ] 

-^ 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOGR  58 

hold  a  hasty  man  no  better  than  a  fool,  I  would "  he 

paused  for  his  companion's  answer. 

'■'  Would  you  ?"  said  the  otlier,  coolly  ;  "  and  why  do  you 
not  then  ?" 

Craigengelt  drew  liis  cutlass  an  inch  or  two,  and  then  re< 
turned  it  with  violence  into  the  scabbard — "  Because  there  ib 
a  deeper  stake  to  be  played  for  than  the  lives  of  twenty  hare- 
brained gowks  like  you.'' 

"  You  are  right  there,"  said  his  companion,  "  for  if  it 
were  not  that  these  forfeitures,  and  that  last  fine  that  the  old 
driveller  Turntippet  is  gaping  for,  and  which,  I  dare  say,  is 
laid  on  by  this  time,  have  fairly  driven  me  out  of  house  and 
home,  I  were  a  coxcomb  and  a  cuckoo  to  boot  to  trust  your 
fair  promises  of  getting  me  a  commission  in  the  Irish  brig-^tide. 
What  have  I  to  do  with  the  Irish  brigade  ?  I  am  a  plain 
Scotchman,  as  my  father  was  before  me  ;  and  my  grandaunt. 
Lady  Girnington,  cannot  live  forever." 

''Ay,  Bucklaw,"  observed  Craigengelt,  "but  she  may 
live  for  many  a  long  day  ;  and  for  your  father,  he  had  land 
and  living,  kept  himself  close  from  wadsetters  and  money- 
lenders, paid  each  man  his  due,  and  lived  on  his  own." 

"And  whose  fault  is  it  that  I  have  not  done  so  too?'* 
said  Bucklaw — "  whose  but  the  devil's  and  yours,  and  such- 
like as  you,  that  have  led  me  to  the  far  end  of  a  fair  estate  ? 
And  now  I  shall  be  obliged,  I  suppose,  to  shelter  and  shift 
about  like  yourself  :  live  one  week  upon  a  line  of  secret  intel- 
ligence from  Saint  Germains  ;  another  upon  a  report  of  a 
rising  in  the  Highlands  ;  get  my  breakfast  and  morning 
draught  of  sack  from  old  Jacobite  ladies,  and  give  them  locks 
of  my  old  wig  for  the  Chevalier's  hair ;  second  my  friend  in 
his  quarrel  till  he  comes  to  the  field,  and  then  flinch  from 
him  lest  so  important  a  politic;d  agent  should  perish  from  the 
way.  All  this  I  must  do  for  bread,  besides  calling  myself  a 
captain  ! " 

"You  think  you  are  making  a  fine  speech  now,"  said 
Craigengelt,  "and  sliowing  much  wit  at  my  expense.  Is 
starving  or  hanging  better  than  the  life  I  am  obliged  to  lead, 
because  the  present  fortunes  of  the  king  cannot  sufficiently 
support  his  envoys  ?  " 

"  Starving  is  honester,  Craigengelt,  and  hanging  is  like  to 
be  the  end  on't.  But  what  you  mean  to  make  of  this  poor 
fellow  Ravenswood,  I  know  not.  He  has  no  money  left,  any 
more  than  I :  his  lands  are  all  pawned  and  pledged,  and  the 
interest  eats  up  the  rents,  and  is  not  satisfied,  and  what  do 
you  hope  to  make  by  meddling  in  his  affairs  ?" 


54  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

"  Content  yourself,  Bucklaw  ;  I  know  my  business,"  re^ 
plied  Craigengelt.  "  Besides  that  his  name,  and  his  father's 
services  in  1689,  will  make  such  an  acquisition  sound  well 
both  at  Versailles  and  Saint  Germains,  you  will  also  please  be 
informed  that  the  Master  of  Eavenswood  is  a  very  different 
kind  of  a  young  fellow  from  you.  He  has  parts  and  address, 
as  well  as  courage  and  talents,  and  will  present  himself 
abroad  like  a  young  man  of  head  as  well  as  heart,  who  knows 
something  more  than  the  speed  of  a  horse  or  the  flight  of  a 
hawk.  I  have  lost  credit  of  late,  by  bringing  over  no  one 
that  had  sense  to  know  more  than  how  to  unharbor  a  stag,  or 
take  and  reclaim  an  eyas.  The  Master  has  education,  sense, 
and  penetration." 

''And  yet  is  not  wise  enough  to  escape  the  tricks  of  a 
kidnapper,  Craigengelt  ?"  replied  the  younger  man.  "But 
don't  be  angry  ;  you  know  you  will  not  fight,  and  so  it  is  as 
well  to  leave  your  hilt  in  peace  and  quiet,  and  tell  me  in 
sober  guise  how  you  drew  the  Master  into  your  confi- 
dence ?  " 

''By  flattering  his  love  of  vengeance,  Bucklaw," answered 
Craigengelt.  "  He  has  always  distrusted  me  ;  but  I  watched 
my  time,  and  struck  while  his  temper  was  red-hot  with  the 
sense  of  insult  and  of  wrong.  He  goes  now  to  expostulate,  as 
he  says,  and  perhaps  thinks,  with  Sir  William  Ashton.  I  say, 
that  if  they  meet,  and  the  lawyer  puts  him  to  his  defence,  the 
Master  will  kill  him ;  for  he  had  that  sparkle  in  his  eye 
which  never  deceives  you  when  you  would  read  a  man's  pur- 
pose. At  any  rate,  he  will  give  him  such  a  bullying  as  will 
be  construed  into  an  assault  on  a  privy  councillor  ;  so  there 
will  be  a  total  breach  betwixt  him  and  government.  Scot- 
land will  be  too  hot  for  him ;  France  will  gain  him  ;  and  we 
will  all  set  sail  together  in  the  French  brig  '  L'Espoir,' 
which  is  hovering  for  us  off  Eyemouth." 

"Content  am  I,"  said  Bucklaw;  "Scotland  has  little 
left  that  I  care  about ;  and  if  carrying  the  Master  with  us 
will  get  us  a  better  reception  in  France,  why,  so  be  it,  a  God's 
name.  I  doubt  our  own  merits  will  procure  us  slender  pre- 
ferment ;  and  I  trust  he  will  send  a  ball  through  the  Keeper's 
head  before  he  joins  us.  One  or  two  of  these  scoundrel 
statesmen  should  be  shot  once  a  year,  just  to  keep  the  others 
on  their  good  behavior." 

"  That  is  very  true, "replied  Craigengelt ;  "and  it  reminds 
me  that  I  must  go  and  see  that  our  horses  have  been  fed,  and 
are  in  readiness  ;  for,  should  such  deed  be  done,  it  will  be  no 
time  for  grass  to  grow  beneath  their  heels."     He  proceeded 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  55 

as  far  as  the  door,  then  turned  back  with  a  look  of  earnest- 
ness, and  said  to  Bucklaw,  "Whatever  should  come  of  this 
business,  I  am  sure  you  will  do  me  tlie  justice  to  remember 
that  I  said  nothing  to  the  Master  which  could  imply  my  ac- 
cession to  any  act  of  violence  which  he  may  take  it  into  his 
head  to  commit.'" 

"No,  no,  not  a  single  word  like  accession,"  replied  Buck- 
law;  "you  know  too  well  the  risk  belonging  to  these  two 
terrible  words,  'art  and  part.'"  Then,  as  if  to  himself,  he 
recited  the  following  lines  : 

"  The  dial  spoke  not,  but  it  made  shrewd  signs, 
And  pointed  full  upon  the  stroke  of  murder." 

'*  What  is  that  you  are  talking  to  yourself  ?"  said  Craig- 
engelt,  turning  back  with  some  anxiety. 

"  Nothing,  only  two  lines  I  have  heard  upon  the  stage,'' 
replied  his  companion. 

"Bucklaw,"  said  Craigengelt,  "I  sometimes  tliink  you 
should  have  been  a  stage-player  yourself  ;  all  is  fancy  and  frolic 
with  you," 

"I  have  often  thought  so  myself,"  said  Bucklaw.  "I 
believe  it  would  be  safer  than  acting  with  you  in  the  Fatal 
Conspiracy.  But  away,  play  your  own  part,  and  look  after 
the  horses  like  a  groom  as  you  are.  A  play-actor — a  stage- 
player  !"  he  repeated  to  himself  ;  "that  would  have  deserved 
a  stab,  but  that  Craigengelt's  a  coward.  And  yet  I  should 
like  the  profession  well  enough.  Stay,  let  me  see;  ay,  I 
would  come  out  in  Alexander — 


"  '  Thus  from  the  grave  I  rise  to  save  my  love, 

Draw  all  your  swords,  and  quick  as  lightning  move. 
When  I  rush  on,  sure  none  will  dare  to  stay  ; 
'Tis  love  commands,  and  glory  leads  the  way.'  " 

As  with  a  voice  of  thunder,  and  his  hand  upon  his  sword, 
Bucklaw  repeated  the  ranting  couplets  of  poor  Lee,  Craigen- 
gelt re-entered  with  a  face  of  alarm. 

"  We  are  undone,  Bucklaw  !  The  Master's  led  horse  has 
cast  himself  over  his  halter  in  the  stable,  and  is  dead  lame. 
His  hackney  will  be  set  up  with  the  day's  work,  and  now  he 
has  no  fresh  horse  ;  he  will  never  get  off." 

"Egad,  there  will  be  no  moving  with  the  speed  of  light- 
ning this  bout,"  said  Bucklaw,  dryly.  "But  stay,  you  can 
give  him  yours." 


5«  WA  VERLEY  ]S0  VEL3 

♦'What!  and  be  taken  myself?  I  thank  you  for  the 
proposal,"  said  Craigengelt. 

"Why,"  replied  Buckiaw,  "if  the  Lord  Keeper  should 
have  met  with  a  mischance,  which  for  my  part  I  cannot  sup- 
pose, for  the  Master  is  not  the  lad  to  shoot  an  old  and  unarmed 
man — but  if  there  should  have  been  a  fray  at  the  Castle,  you 
are  neither  art  nor  part  in  it,  you  know,  so  have  nothing  to 
fear." 

"  True,  true,"  answered  the  other,  with  embarrassment ; 
*'but  consider  my  commission  from  Saint  Germains." 

"  "Which  many  men  think  is  a  commission  of  your  own 
making,  noble  Captain.  Well,  if  you  will  not  give  him  your 
horse,  why,  d — n  it,  he  must  have  mine." 

"Yours?"  said  Craigengelt. 

"Ay,  mine,"  repeated  Buckiaw;  "it  shall  never  be  said 
that  I  agreed  to  back  a  gentleman  in  a  little  affair  of  honor, 
and  neither  helped  him  on  with  it  nor  off  from  it." 

"  You  will  give  him  your  horse  ?  and  have  you  considered 
the  loss?" 

"Loss  !  why.  Gray  Gilbert  cost  me  twenty  Jacobuses, 
that's  true  ;  but  then  his  hackney  is  worth  something,  and  his 
Black  Moor  is  worth  twice  as  much  were  he  sound,  and  I 
know  how  to  handle  him.  Take  a  fat  sucking  mastiff  whelp, 
flay  and  bowel  him,  stuff  the  body  full  of  black  and  gray  snails, 
roast  a  reasonable  time,  and  baste  with  oil  of  spikenard, 
saff'ron,  cinnamon,  and  honey,  anoint  with  the  dripping, 
working  it  in " 

"  Yes,  Buckiaw  ;  but  in  the  mean  while,  before  the  sprain 
is  cured,  nay,  before  the  whelp  is  roasted,  you  will  be  caught 
and  hung.  Depend  on  it,  the  chase  will  be  hard  after  Ravens- 
wood.  I  wish  we  had  made  our  place  of  rendezvous  nearer 
to  the  coast." 

"  On  my  faith,  then,"  said  Buckiaw,  "  I  had  best  go  off 
just  now,  and  leave  my  horse  for  him.  Stay — stay,  becomes  : 
I  hear  a  horse's  feet." 

"Are  you  sure  there  is  only  one  ?"  said  Craigengelt.  "I 
fear  there  is  a  chase  ;  I  think  I  hear  three  or  four  galloping 
together.     I  am  sure  I  hear  more  horses  than  one." 

"Pooh,  pooh,  it  is  the  wench  of  the  house  clattering  to 
the  well  in  her  pattens.  By  my  faith,  Captain,  you  should 
give  up  both  your  captainship  and  your  secret  service,  for  you 
are  as  easily  scared  as  a  wild  goose.  But  here  comes  the 
Master  alone,  and  looking  as  gloomy  as  a  night  in  Novem- 
ber." 

The  Master  of  Eavenswood  entared  t)ie  room  accordingly. 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERJ^TOUR  57 

his  cloak  muffled  around  him,  his  arms  folded,  his  looks 
stern,  and  at  the  same  time  dejected.  He  flung  his  cloak 
from  him  as  he  entered,  threw  himself  upon  a  chair,  and  ap- 
peared sunk  in  a  profound  reverie. 

"What  has  happened?  What  have  you  done?"  was 
nastily  demanded  by  Craigengelt  and  Bucklaw  in  the  same 
moment. 

"  Nothing,"  was  the  short  and  sullen  answer. 

"  Nothing  !  and  left  us,  determined  to  call  the  old  villain 
to  account  for  all  the  injuries  that  you,  we,  and  the  country 
have  received  at  his  hand  ?     Have  you  seen  him  ?  " 

"1  have,"  replied  the  Master  of  Ravenswood. 

*'  Seen  him — and  come  away  without  settling  scores  which 
have  been  so  long  due  ?"  said  Bucklaw  ;  "I  would  not  have 
expected  that  at  the  hand  of  the  Master  of  Eavenswood." 

"  No  matter  what  you  expected,"  replied  Ravenswood ; 
"it  is  not  to  you,  sir,  that  I  shall  be  disposed  to  render  any 
reason  for  my  conduct." 

"  Patience,  Bucklaw,"  said  Craigengelt,  interrupting  his 
companion,  who  seemed  about  to  make  an  augry  reply. 
"  The  Master  has  been  interrupted  in  his  purpose  by  some 
accident ;  but  he  must  excuse  the  anxious  curiosity  of  friends 
who  are  devoted  to  his  cause  like  you  and  me." 

"Friends,  Captain  Craigengelt!"  retorted  Ravenswood, 
haughtily;  "I  am  ignorant  what  familiarity  has  passed  be- 
twixt us  to  entitle  you  to  use  that  expression.  I  think  our 
friendship  amounts  to  this,  that  we  agreed  to  leave  Scotland 
together  so  soon  as  I  should  have  visited  the  alienated  man- 
sion of  my  fathers,  and  had  an  interview  with  its  present 
possessor — I  will  not  call  him  proprietor." 

"  Very  true.  Master,"  answered  Bucklaw  ;  "and  as  we 
thought  you  had  a  mind  to  do  something  to  put  your  neck 
in  jeopardy,  Craigie  and  I  very  courteously  agreed  to  tarry  for 
you,  although  ours  miglit  run  some  risk  in  consequence.  As 
to  Craigie,  indeed,  it  does  not  very  much  signify  :  he  had 
gallows  written  on  his  brow  in  the  hour  of  his  birth  ;  but  I 
should  not  like  to  discredit  my  parentage  by  coming  to  such 
an  end  in  another  man's  cause." 

"Gentlemen,"  said  tiie  Master  of  Ravenswood,  "I  am 
sorry  if  I  have  occasioned  you  any  inconvenience,  but  I  must 
claim  the  right  of  judging  what  is  best  for  my  own  affairs, 
without  rendering  explanations  to  any  one.  I  have  altered 
my  mind,  and  do  not  design  to  leave  the  country  this  sea- 
son." 

"  Not  to  leave  the  country.  Master  ! "  exclaimed  Craigen- 


68  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

gelt.  "  Not  to  go  over,  after  all  the  trouble  and  expense  i 
have  incurred — after  all  the  risk  of  discovery,  and  the  expense 
of  freight  and  demurrage  ! " 

" Sir,"  replied  the  Master  of  Eavenswood,  ''when  I  de- 
signed to  leave  this  country  in  this  haste,  I  made  use  of  your 
obliging  offer  to  procure  me  means  of  conveyance  ;  but  I  do 
not  recollect  that  I  pledged  myself  to  go  off,  if  I  found  occa- 
sion to  alter  my  mind.  For  your  trouble  on  my  account,  I 
am  sorry,  and  I  thank  you  ;  your  expense,"  he  added,  putting 
his  hand  into  his  pocket,  "  admits  a  more  solid  compensa- 
tion :  freight  and  demurrage  are  matters  with  which  I  am 
unac(|uainted.  Captain  Craigengelt,  but  take  my  purse  and 
pay  yourself  according  to  your  own  conscience."  And  accord- 
ingly he  tendered  a  purse  with  some  gold  in  it  to  the  soi- 
disatit  captain. 

But  here  Bucklaw  interposed  in  his  turn.  "  Your  fingers, 
Craigie,  seem  to  itch  for  that  same  piece  of  green  network," 
said  he  ;  "but  I  make  my  vow  to  God,  that  if  they  offer  to 
close  upon  it,  I  will  chop  them  off  with  my  whinger.  Since 
the  Master  has  changed  his  mind,  I  suppose  we  need  stay 
here  no  longer ;  but  in  the  first  place  I  beg  leave  to  tell 
him " 

"  Tell  him  anything  you  will,"  said  Craigengelt,  "if  you 
will  first  allow  me  to  state  the  inconveniences  to  which  he 
will  expose  himself  by  quitting  our  society,  to  remind  him  of 
the  obstacles  to  his  remaining  here,  and  of  the  difficulties  at- 
tending his  proper  introduction  at  Versailles  and  Saint  Ger- 
mains  without  the  countenance  of  those  who  have  established 
useful  connections." 

"Besides  forfeiting  the  friendship,"  said  Bucklaw,  "of 
at  least  one  man  of  spirit  and  honor." 

"Gentlemen,"  said  Ravenswood,  "permit  me  once  more 
to  assure  you  that  you  have  been  pleased  to  attach  to  our 
temporary  connection  more  importance  than  I  ever  meant 
that  it  should  have.  When  I  repair  to  foreign  courts,  I  shall 
not  need  the  introduction  of  an  intriguing  adventurer,  nor  is 
it  necessary  for  me  to  set  value  on  the  friendship  of  a  hot- 
headed bully."  With  these  words,  and  without  waiting  for  an 
answer,  he  left  the  apartment,  remounted  his  horse,  and  was 
heard  to  ride  off. 

"Mortbleu!"  said  Captain  Craigengelt,  "my  recruit  is 
lost!" 

"  Ay,  Captain,"  said  Bucklaw,  '^  the  salmon  is  off  with 
hook  and  all.  But  I  will  after  him,  for  I  have  had  more  of 
his  insolence  than  I  can  well  digest." 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  59 

Craigeugelt  offered  to  accompany  him  ;  but  Bucklaw  re- 
plied, "  No,  no,  Captain,  keep  you  the  cheek  of  the  chimney- 
nook  till  I  come  back ;  it's  good  sleeping  in  a  haill  skin. 

"  '  Little  kens  the  auld  wife  that  sits  by  the  fire, 

How  cauld  the  wind  blaws  in  huiie-burle  swlre.' " 

And  singing  as  he  went,  he  left  the  apartment. 


CHAPTER  VII 

Now,  Billy  Bewick,  keep  good  heart, 

And  of  thy  talking  let  nie  be  ; 
But  if  thou  art  a  man,  as  I  am  sure  thou  art, 

Come  over  the  dike  and  fight  with  me. 

Old  Ballad. 

"The  Master  of  Ravenswood  had  mounted  the  ambling  hack> 
ney  which  he  before  rode,  on  finding  the  accident  which  had 
happened  to  his  led  horse,  and,  for  the  animaFs  ease,  was 
proceeding  at  a  slow  pace  from  the  Tod's  Den  towards  his  old 
tower  of  Wolf's  Crag,*  when  he  heard  the  galloping  of  a 
horse  beliind  him,  and,  looking  back,  perceived  that  he  was 
pursued  by  young  Bucklaw,  who  had  been  delayed  a  few 
minutes  in  the  pursuit  by  the  irresistible  temptation  of  giving 
the  hostler  at  the  Tod's  Den  some  recipe  for  treating  the 
lame  horse.  This  brief  delay  he  had  made  up  by  hard  gallop- 
ing, and  now  overtook  the  Master  where  the  road  traversed 
a  waste  moor.  '•  Halt,  sir,"  cried  Bucklaw ;  "  I  am  no 
political  agent ^no  Captain  Craigengelt,  whose  life  is  too 
important  to  be  hazarded  in  defence  of  his  honor.  I  am 
Frank  Hayston  of  Bucklaw,  and  no  man  injures  me  by  word, 
deed,  sign,  or  look,  but  he  must  render  me  an  account  of  it."' 

"  This  is  all  very  well,  Mr.  Hayston  of  Bucklaw,"  replied 
the  Master  of  Ravenswood,  in  a  tone  the  moet  calm  and  in- 
different;  "but  I  have  no  quarrel  with  you,  and  desire  to 
have  none.  Our  roads  homeward,  as  well  as  our  roads 
through  life,  lie  in  different  directions  ;  there  is  no  occasion 
for  us  crossing  each  other." 

''Is  there  not?"  said  Bucklaw,  impetuoiTsly.  '^By 
Heaven !  but  I  say  that  there  is,  though  r  you  called  us 
Intriguing  adventurers." 

"  Be  correct  in  your  recollection,  Mr,  Hayston  ;  it  was  to 
your  companion  only  I  applied  that  epithet,  and  you  know 
him  to  be  no  better." 

"  And  what  then  ?  He  was  my  companion  for  the  time, 
and  no  man  shall  insult  my  companion,  right  or  wrong,  while 
he  is  in  my  company." 

'  See  Introduction  to  Chronicles  of  tJie  Canongate  CLaing). 
60 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  61 

"  Then,  Mr.  Hayston,"  replied  Eavenswood,  with  the  same 
cf^mposure,  "  you  should  choose  your  society  better,  or  you  are 
like  to  have  much  work  in  your  capacity  of  their  champion. 
Go  home,  sir ;  sleep,  and  have  more  reason  in  your  wrath  to- 
morrow." 

"  Not  so.  Master,  you  have  mistaken  your  man  ;  high  airs 
and  wise  saws  shall  not  carry  it  off  thus.  Besides,  you  termed 
me  bully,  and  you  shall  retract  the  word  before  we  part." 

"  Faith,  scarcely,"  said  Eavenswood,  "  unless  you  show 
me  better  reason  for  thinking  myself  mistaken  than  you  are 
now  producing." 

'•'  Then,  Master,"  said  Bucklaw,  "  though  I  should  be  sorry 
to  offer  it  to  a  man  of  your  quality,  if  you  will  not  justify 
your  incivility,  or  retract  it,  or  name  a  place  of  meeting,  you 
must  here  undergo  the  hard  word  and  the  hard  blow." 

"Neither  will  be  necessar}',"  said  Eavenswood;  "1  am 
satisfied  with  what  I  have  done  to  avoid  an  affair  with  you. 
If  you  are  serious,  this  place  will  serve  as  well  as  another." 

"  Dismount  then,  and  draw,"  said  Bucklaw,  setting  him 
an  example.  "  I  always  thought  and  said  you  were  a  pretty 
man  ;  I  should  be  sorry  to  report  you  otherwise." 

"  You  shall  have  no  reason,  sir,"  said  Eavenswood,  alight- 
ing, and  putting  himself  into  a  posture  of  defence. 

Their  swords  crossed,  and  the  combat  commenced  with 
great  spirit  on  the  part  of  Bucklaw,  who  was  well  accustomed 
to  affairs  of  the  kind,  and  distinguished  by  address  and  dex- 
terity at  his  weapon.  In  the  present  case,  however,  he  did 
not  use  his  skill  to  advantage  ;  for,  having  lost  temper  at  the 
cool  and  contemptuous  manner  in  which  the  Master  of  Ea- 
venswood had  long  refused,  and  at  length  granted,  him  satis- 
faction, and  urged  by  his  impatience,  he  adopted  the  part  of 
an  assailant  with  inconsiderate  eagerness.  The  Master,  with 
equal  skill,  and  much  greater  composure,  remained  chiefly  on 
the  defensive,  and  even  declined  to  avail  himself  of  one  or  two 
advantages  afforded  him  by  the  eagerness  of  his  adversary. 
At  length,  in  a  desperate  lunge,  which  he  followed  with  an 
attempt  to  close,  Bucklaw's  foot  slipped,  and  he  fell  on  the 
short  grassy  turf  on  which  they  were  fighting,  "Take  your 
life,  sir,"  said  the  Master  of  Eavenswood,  '*'  and  mend  it  if  yon 
can." 

"  It  would  be  but  a  cobbled  piece  of  work,  I  fear,"  said 
Bucklaw,  rising  slowly  and  gathering  up  his  sword,  much 
less  disconcerted  with  the  issue  of  the  combat  than  could  have 
been  expected  from  the  impetuosity  of  his  temper.  "  I  thank 
you  for  my  life.  Master,"  he  pursued.      "  There  is  my  hand  ; 


83  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

I  bear  no  ill-will  to  you,  either  for  my  bad  luck  or  your  bexter 
swordmanship." 

The  Master  looked  steadily  at  him  for  an  instant,  then  ex- 
tended his  hand  to  him.  "Bucklaw,"  he  said,  "you  are  a 
generous  fellow,  and  I  have  done  you  wrong.  I  heartily  ask 
your  pardon  for  the  expression  which  offended  you  ;  it  was 
hastily  and  incautiously  uttered,  and  I  am  convinced  it  is 
totally  misapplied. '^ 

"Are  you  indeed.  Master  ? ^' said  Bucklaw,  his  face  re- 
suming at  once  its  natural  expression  of  light-hearted  care- 
lessness and  audacity  ;  "  that  is  more  than  I  expected  of  you  ; 
for.  Master,  men  say  you  are  not  ready  to  retract  your 
opinions  and  your  language." 

"  Not  when  I  have  well  considered  them,"  said  the 
Master. 

"  Then  you  are  a  little  wiser  than  I  am,  for  I  always  give 
my  friend  satisfaction  first,  and  explanation  afterwards.  If 
one  of  us  falls,  all  accounts  are  settled  ;  if  not,  men  are  never 
so  ready  for  peace  as  after  war.  But  what  does  that  bawling 
brat  of  a  boy  want  ?"  said  Bucklaw.  "'  I  wish  to  Heaven  he 
had  come  a  few  minutes  sooner  !  and  yet  it  must  have  been 
ended  some  time,  and  perhaps  this  way  is  as  well  as  any 
other." 

As  he  spoke,  the  boy  he  mentioned  came  up,  cudgelling  an 
ass,  on  which  he  was  mounted,  to  the  top  of  its  speed,  and 
sending,  like  one  of  Ossian's  heroes,  his  voice  before  him 
— "  Gi-entlemen — gentlemen,  save  yourselves  !  for  the  gude- 
wife  bade  us  tell  ye  there  were  folk  in  her  house  had  taen 
Captain  Oraigengelt,  and  were  seeking  for  Bucklaw,  and  that 
ye  behoved  to  ride  for  it." 

"  By  my  faith,  and  that's  very  true,  my  man,"  said  Buck- 
law  ;  "  and  there's  a  silver  sixpence  for  your  news,  and  I 
would  give  any  man  twice  as  much  would  tell  me  which  way 
I  should  ride." 

"  That  will  I,  Bucklaw,"  said  Ravenswood  ;  "  ride  home 
to  Wolf's  Orag  with  me.  There  are  places  in  the  old  tower 
where  you  might  lie  hid,  were  a  thousand  men  to  seek  you." 

"  Bat  that  will  bring  you  into  trouble  yourself.  Master  ; 
and  unless  you  be  in  the  Jacobite  scrape  already,  it  is  quite 
neelless  for  me  to  drag  you  in." 

"  Not  a  whit  ;  I  have  nothing  to  fear." 

"Then  I  will  ride  with  you  blithely,  for,  to  say  the  truth, 
I  do  not  know  the  rendezvous  that  Craigie  was  to  guide  us  to 
this  night ;  and  I  am  sure  that,  if  he  is  taken,  he  will  tell  all 
the  truth  of  me,  and  twenty  lies  of  you,  in  order  to  save  him- 
self from  the  withiev'* 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  63 

They  mounted  and  rode  off  in  company  accordingly, 
striking  off  the  ordinary  road,  and  holding  their  way  by  wild 
moorish  in  frequented  paths,  with  which  the  gentlemen  were 
well  acquainted  from  the  exercise  of  the  chase,  but  through 
which  others  would  have  had  much  difficulty  in  tracing  their 
course.  They  rode  for  some  time  in  silence,  making  such 
haste  as  the  condition  of  Ravenswood's  horse  permitted,  until 
night  having  gradually  closed  around  them,  they  discontinued 
their  speed,  both  from  the  difficulty  of  discovering  their  path, 
and  from  the  hope  that  they  were  beyond  the  reach  of  pursuit 
or  observation. 

*' And  now  that  we  have  drawn  bridle  a  bit,"  said  Buck- 
law,  "  I  would  fain  ask  you  a  question.  Master." 

*' Ask,  and  welcome,"  said  Ravenswood,  "  but  forgive  my 
not  answering  it,  unless  I  think  proper.  " 

"Well,  it  is  simply  this,"  answered  his  late  antagonist  : 
"  What,  in  the  name  of  old  Sathan,  could  make  you,  who 
stand  so  highly  on  your  reputation,  think  for  a  moment  of 
drawing  up  with  such  a  rogue  as  Craigengelt,  and  such  a 
scapegrace  as  folk  call  Bucklaw  ?" 

''  Simply  because  I  was  desperate,  and  sought  desperate 
associates." 

"  And  what  made  you  break  off  from  us  at  the  nearest  ?" 
again  demanded  Bucklaw. 

"  Because  I  had  changed  my  mind,"  said  the  Master, 
*'and  renounced  my  enterprise,  at  least  for  the  present.  And 
now  that  I  have  answered  your  questions  fairly  and  frankly, 
tell  me  what  makes  you  associate  with  Craigengelt,  so  much 
beneath  you  both  in  birth  and  in  spirit  'i" 

"In  plain  terms,"  answered  Bucklaw,  "because  I  am  a 
fool,  who  have  gambled  away  my  land  in  these  times.  My 
grandaunt,  Lady  Girnington,  has  taen  a  new  tack  of  life,  I 
think,  and  I  could  only  hope  to  get  something  by  a  change 
of  government.  Craigie  was  a  sort  of  gambling  acquaint- 
ance ;  he  saw  my  condition,  and,  as  the  devil  is  always  at  one^s 
elbow,  told  me  fifty  lies  about  his  credentials  from  Versailles, 
and  his  interest  at  Saint  Germains,  promised  me  a  captain's 
commission  at  Paris,  and  I  have  been  ass  enough  to  put  my 
thumb  under  his  belt.  I  dare  say,  by  this  time,  he  has  told  a 
dozen  pretty  stories  of  me  to  the  government.  And  this  is 
what  I  have  got  by  wine,  women,  and  dice,  cocks,  dogs,  and 
horses." 

"  Yes,  Bucklaw,"  said  the  Master,  "  you  have  indeed 
nourished  in  your  bosom  the  snakes  that   ai-e  now  stinging 

you." 


64  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

"  That's  home  as  well  as  true.  Master/'  replied  his  com- 
panion ;  "  but.  by  your  leave,  you  have  nursed  in  your  bosom 
one  great  goodly  snake  that  has  swallowed  all  the  rest,  and  is 
as  sure  to  devour  you  as  my  half-dozen  are  to  make  a  meal  on 
all  that's  left  of  Bucklavv,  which  is  but  what  lies  between  bon- 
net and  boot-heel." 

"I  must  not,"  answered  the  Master  of  Ravenswood, 
"  challenge  the  freedom  of  speech  in  which  I  have  set  ex- 
ample. What,  to  speak  without  a  metaphor,  do  you  call  this 
monstrous  passion  which  you  charge  me  with  fostering  ?  " 

'^  Revenge,  my  good  sir — revenge  ;  which,  if  it  be  as  gentle- 
manlike a  sin  as  Avine  and  wassail,  with  their  et  ceteras,  is 
equally  unchristian,  and  not  so  bloodless.  It  is  better  break- 
ing a  parkpale  to  watch  a  doe  or  damsel  than  to  shoot  an  old 
luan. '' 

''I  deny  the  purpose,"  said  the  Master  of  Ravenswood. 
'•  Oil  my  soul,  I  had  no  such  intention  ;  I  meant  but  to  con- 
f rcfnt  the  oppressor  ere  I  left  my  native  land,  and  upbraid  him 
^ith  his  tyranny  and  its  consequences.  I  would  have  stated 
my  wrongs  so  that  they  would  have  shaken  his  soul  within 
him." 

"  Yes,"  answered  Bucklaw,  "  and  he  would  have  collared 
you,  and  cried  '  help,'  and  then  you  would  have  shaken  the 
soul  out  of  him,  I  suppose.  Your  very  look  and  manner 
would  have  frightened  the  old  man  to  death." 

"  Consider  the  provocation,"  answered  Ravenswood — 
"consider  the  ruin  and  death  procured  and  caused  by  his 
hard-hearted  cruelty — an  ancient  house  destroyed,  an  aSec- 
tionate  father  murdered  !  Why,  in  our  old  Scottish  days,  he 
that  sat  quiet  under  such  wrongs  would  have  been  held  neither 
lit  to  back  a  friend  nor  face  a  foe. " 

"Well,  Master,  I  am  glad  to  see  that  the  devil  deals  as 
cunningly  with  other  folk  as  he  deals  with  me  ;  for  whenever 
I  am  about  to  commit  any  folly,  he  persuades  me  it  is  the  most 
necessary,  gallant,  gentlemanlike  tiling  on  earth,  and  I  am  up 
to  saddlegirths  in  the  bog  before  I  see  that  the  ground  is  soft. 
And  you.  Master,  might  have  turned  out  a  murd a  homi- 
cide, just  out  of  pure  respect  for  your  father's  memory." 

"  There  is  more  sense  in3'0ur  language,  Bucklaw,"  replied 
the  Master,  "  than  might  have  been  expected  from  your  con- 
duct. It  is  too  true,  our  vices  steal  upon  us  in  forms  out- 
wardly as  fair  as  those  of  the  demons  whom  the  superstitious 
represent  as  intriguing  with  the  human  race,  and  are  not  dis- 
covered in  their  native  hideousness  until  we  have  clasped  them 
in  our  arms." 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  65 

"But  we  may  throw  them  from  us,  though/' said  Buck- 
law,  "and  that  is  what  1  shall  think  of  doing  one  of  these 
days — that  is,  when  old  Lady  Girnington  dies."' 

"  Did  you  ever  hear  the  expression  of  the  English  divine  ?  " 
said  Ravenswood — "  '  Hell  is  paved  with  good  intentions/ — as 
much  as  to  say,  they  are  more  often  formed  than  executed." 

"  Well,"  replied  Bucklaw,  "but  I  will  begin  this  blessed 
night,  and  have  determined  not  to  drink  above  one  quart  of 
wine,  unless  your  claret  be  of  extraordinary  quality." 

"  You  will  find  little  to  tempt  you  at  Wolffs  Crag,"  said 
the  Master.  "1  know  not  that  I  can  jDromise  you  more  than 
the  shelter  of  my  roof ;  all,  and  more  than  all,  our  stock  of 
wine  and  provisions  was  exhausted  at  the  late  occasion." 

"Long  may  it  be  ere  provision  is  needed  for  the  like  pur- 
pose," answered  Bucklaw  ;  "but  you  should  not  drink  up  the 
last  flask  at  a  dirge ;  there  is  ill  luck  in  that." 

"  There  is  ill  luck,  I  think,  in  whatever  belongs  to  me," 
said  Ravenswood.  "  But  yonder  is  Wolfs  Crag,  and  whatever 
it  still  contains  is  at  your  service." 

The  roar  of  the  sea  had  long  announced  their  approach  to 
the  cliffs,  on  the  summit  of  which,  like  the  nest  of  some  sea- 
eagle,  the  founder  of  the  f ortalice  had  perched  his  eyrie.  The 
pale  moon,  which  had  hitherto  been  co]itending  with  flitting 
clouds,  now  shone  out,  and  gave  them  a  view  of  the  solitary 
and  naked  tower,  situated  on  a  projecting  clifl'  that  beetled 
on  the  German  Ocean.  On  three  sides  the  rock  was  pre- 
cipitous ;  on  the  fourth,  which  was  that  towards  the  land,  it 
liad  been  originally  fenced  by  au  artificial  ditch  and  draw- 
bridge, but  the  latter  was  broken  down  and  ruinous,  and  the 
former  had  been  in  part  filled  uj),  so  as  to  allow  passage  for  a 
horseman  into  the  narrow  courtyard,  encircled  on  two  sides 
with  low  offices  and  stables,  partly  ruinous,  and  closed  on  the 
landward  front  by  a  low  embattled  wall,  while  the  remaining 
side  of  the  quadrangle  was  occupied  by  the  tower  itself,  which, 
tall  and  narrow,  and  built  of  a  grayish  stone,  stood  glimmer- 
ing in  the  moonlight,  like  the  sheeted  spectre  of  some  huge 
giant.  A  wilder  or  more  disconsolate  dwelling  it  was  perhaps 
difficult  to  conceive.  The  sombrous  and  heavy  sound  of  the 
billows,  successively  dashing  against  the  rocky  beach  at  a  pro- 
found distance  beneath,  was  to  the  ear  what  the  landscape  was 
to  the  eye — a  symbol  of  unvaried  and  monotonous  melan- 
choly, not  unmingled  with  horror. 

Although  the  night  was  not  far  advanced,  there  Avas  no 
sign  of  living  inhabitant  about  this  forlorn  abode,  excepting 
that  one,  and  only  one,  of  the  narrow  and  stanehelled  win- 


66  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

dows  which  appeared  at  irregalur  heights  and  distances  in  the 
walls  of  the  building  showed  a  small  glimmer  of  light. 

"  There,"  said  Eavenswood,  ''  sits  the  only  male  domestic  • 
tliat  remains  to  the  house  of  Eavenswood  ;  and  it  is  well  that 
he  does  remain  there,  since  otherwise  we  had  little  hope .  to 
find  either  light  or  fire.     But  follow  me  cautiously ;  the  road 
is  narrow,  and  admits  only  one  horse  in  front." 

In  effect,  the  path  led  along  a  kind  of  isthmus,  at  the  pen- 
insular extremity  of  which  the  tower  was  situated,  with  that 
exclusive  attention  to  strengtli  and  security,  in  preference  to 
every  circumstance  of  convenience,  which  dictated  to  the 
Scottish  barons  the  choice  of  their  situations,  as  well  as  their 
style  of  building. 

By  adopting  the  cautious  mode  of  approach  recommended 
by  the  proprietor  of  this  wild  hold,  they  entered  the  court- 
yard in  safety.  But  it  was  long  ere  the  efforts  of  Ravens- 
wood,  tliough  loudly  exerted  by  knocking  at  the  low- 
browed entrance,  and  repeated  shouts  to  Caleb  to  open  the 
gate  and  admit  them,  received  any  answer. 

"  The  old  man  must  be  departed,"  he  began  to  say,  "  or 
fallen  into  some  fit ;  for  the  noise  I  have  made  would  have 
waked  the  seven  sleepers." 

At  length  a  timid  and  hesitating  voice  replied,  "  Master 
— Master  of  Ravenswood,  is  it  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  it  is  I,  Caleb  ;  open  the  door  quickly." 

"  But  is  it  you  in  very  blood  and  body  ?  For  I  would 
sooner  face  fifty  deevils  as  my  master's  ghaist,  or  even  his 
wraith  ;  wherefore,  aroint  ye,  if  ye  were  ten  times  my  master, 
unless  ye  come  in  bodily  shape,  lith  and  limb." 

"It  is  I,  you  old  fool," answered  Ravenswood,  ''in  bodily 
shape  and  alive,  save  that  I  am  half  dead  with  cold." 

The  light  at  the  upper  window  disappeared,  and  glancing 
from  loophole  to  loophole  in  slow  succession,  gave  intimation 
that  the  bearer  was  in  the  act  of  descending,  with  great  de- 
liberation, a  winding  staircase  occupying  one  of  the  turrets 
Avhich  graced  the  angles  of  the  old  tower.  The  tardiness  of 
his  descent  extracted  some  exclamations  of  impatience  from 
Ravenswood,  and  several  oaths  from  his  less  patient  and  more 
mercurial  companion.  Caleb  again  paused  ere  he  unbolted 
the  door,  and  once  more  asked  if  they  were  men  of  mould 
that  demanded  entrance  at  this  time  of  night. 

"  Were  I  near  you,  you  old  fool,"  said  Bucklaw,  *' I  would 
give  you  sufficient  proofs  of  nn/  bodilf  condition." 

"  Open  the  gate,  Caleb,"  said  his  master,  in  a  more  sooth- 
ing tone,  partly  from  his  regai'd  to  the  ancient  and  faithful 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  87 

seneschal,  partly  perhaps  because  he  thought  that  angry 
words  would  be  thrown  away,  so  long  as  Caleb  had  a  stout 
iron-clinched  oaken  door  betwixt  his  person  and  the  speakers. 

At  length  Caleb,  with  a  trembling  hand,  undid  the  bars, 
opened  the  heavy  door,  and  stood  before  them,  exhibiting  his 
thin  gray  hairs,  bald  forehead,  and  sharp  high  features,  illu- 
minated by  a  quivering  lamp  which  he  held  in  one  hand, 
while  he  shaded  and  protected  its  flame  with  the  other.  The 
timorous,  courteous  glance  which  he  threw  around  him,  the 
effect  of  the  partial  light  upon  his  white  hair  and  illumined 
features,  might  have  made  a  good  painting  ;  but  our  travel- 
lers were  too  impatient  for  security  against  the  rising  storm 
to' permit  them  to  indulge  themselves  in  studying  the  pictur- 
esque. "'Is  it  you,  my  dear  master? — is  it  you,  yourself, 
indeed  T'  exclaimed  the  old  domestic.  "  I  am  wae  ye  suld 
hae  stude  waiting  at  your  ain  gate  ;  but  wha  wad  hae  thought 

o'  seeing  ye  sae  sune,  and  a  strange  gentleman  with  a 

[Here  he  exclaimed  apart,  as  it  Avere,  and  to  some  inmate  of 
the  tower,  in  a  voice  not  meant  to  be  heard  by  those  in  the 
court]  Mysie — Mysie,  woman  !  stir  for  dear  life,  and  get  the 
fire  mended  ;  take  the  auld  three-legged  stool,  or  onything 
that's  readiest  that  will  make  a  lowe.  I  doubt  we  are  but 
puirly  provided,  no  expecting  ye  this  some  months,  Avhen 
doubtless  ye  wad  hae  been  received  conform  till  your  rank,  as 
gude  right  is  ;  but  natheless " 

"^  Natheless,  Caleb,''  said  the  Master,  "we  must  have  our 
horses  put  up,  and  ourselves  too,  the  best  way  we  can.  I  hope 
you  are  not  sorry  to  see  me  sooner  than  you  expected  ?" 

"Sorry,  my  lord  !  I  am  sure  ye  sail  aye  be  my  lord  wi' 
honest  folk,  as  your  noble  ancestors  hae  been  these  three 
hundred  years,  and  never  asked  a  Whig's  leave.  Sorry  to  see 
the  Lord  of  Kavenswood  at  ane  o'  his  ain  castles  !  [Then  again 
apart  to  his  unseen  associate  behind  the  screen]  Mysie,  kill 
the  brood-hen  without  thinking  twice  on  it  ;  let  them  care 
that  come  ahint.  No  to  say  it's  our  best  dwelling,"  he  added, 
turning  to  Bucklaw  ;  "  but  just  a  strength  for  the  Lord  of 
Eavenswood  to  flee  until — that  is,  no  to  flee,  but  to  retreat 
until  in  troublous  times,  like  the  present,  when  it  was  ill 
convenient  for  him  to  live  farther  in  the  country  in  ony  of 
his  better  and  mair  principal  manors  ;  but,  for  its  antiquity, 
maist  folk  think  that  the  outside  of  Wolf's  Crag  is  worthy  of 
a  large  perusal." 

"And  you  are  determined  we  shall  have  time  to  make 
it,"  said  Eavenswood,  somewhat  amused  with  the  shifts  the 
old  man  used  to  detain  them  without  doors  until  his  confed- 
erate lilysie  had  made  her  preparations  within. 


88  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

"  0,  never  mind  the  outside  of  the  house,  my  good 
friend/'  said  Bucklaw  ;  "  let's  see  the  inside,  and  let  our 
horses  see  the  stable,  that's  all." 

"  0  yes,  sir — ay,  sir — unquestionably,  sir — my  lord  and 
ony  of  his  honorable  companions -" 

"But  our  horses,  my  old  friend — our  horses  ;  they  will  be 
dead-foundered  by  standing  here  in  the  cold  after  riding  hard, 
and  mine  is  too  good  to  be  spoiled ;  therefore,  once  more,  our 
horses,"  exclaimed  Bucklaw. 

''  True — ay — -your  horses — yes — I  will  call  the  grooms  ;" 
and  sturdily  did  Caleb  roar  till  the  old  tower  rang  again — 
*'Jolin — -William — Saunders!  The  lads  are  gane  out, ,  or 
sleeping,"  he  observed,  after  pausing  for  an  answer,  which  he 
knew  that  he  had  no  human  chance  of  receiving.  "  A'  gaes 
wrang  when  the  Master's  out-bye  ;  but  I'll  take  care  o'  your 
cattle  my  sell." 

'^I  think  you  had  better,"  said  Ravenswood,  "otherwise 
I  see  little  chance  of  their  being  attended  to  at  all." 

"  Wliisht,  my  lord — whisht,  for  Grod's  sake,"  said  Caleb, 
in  an  imploring  tone,  and  apart  to  his  master  ;  "if  ye  dinna 
regard  your  ain  credit,  think  on  mine  ;  we'll  hae  hard  eneugh 
wark  to  mak  a  decent  night  o't,  wi'  a'  the  lees  I  can  tell." 

"Well,  well,  never  mi  ud,"  said  his  master  ;  "goto  the 
stable.     There  is  hay  and  corn,  I  trust  ?  " 

"  Ou  ay,  plenty  of  hay  and  corn  ; "  this  was  uttered  bold- 
ly and  aloud,  and,  in  a  lower  tone,  "'  there  was  some  half  fous 
o'  aits,  and  some  taits  o'  meadow-hay,  left  after  the  burial." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Ravenswood,  taking  the  lamp  from  his 
domestic's  unwilling  hand,  "  I  will  show  the  stranger  upstairs 
myself." 

"I  canna  think  o'  that,  my  lord  ;  if  ye  wad  but  have  fire 
minutes',  or  ten  minutes',  or,  at  maist,  a  quarter  of  an 
hour's  patience,  and  look  at  the  fine  moonlight  prospect  of 
the  Bass  and  Xorth  Berwick  Law  till  I  sort  the  horses,  I 
would  marshal  ye  up,  as  reason  is  ye  suld  be  marshalled,  your 
lordship  and  your  honorable  visitor.  And  I  hae  lockit  up 
the  siller  candlesticks,  and  the  lamp  is  not  fit " 

"  It  will  do  very  well  in  the  mean  time,"  said  Ravenswood, 
*'  and  you  will  have  no  difficulty  for  want  of  light  in  the 
stable,  for,  if  I  recollect,  half  the  roof  is  off." 

"Very  true,  my  lord,"  replied  the  trusty  adherent,  and 
with  ready  wit  instantly  added,  "and  the  lazy  sclater  loons 
have  never  come  to  put  it  on  a'  this  while,  your  lordship." 

"  If  I  were  disposed  to  jest  at  the  calamities  of  my  house,'' 
said   Ravenswood,   as  he  led   the  way  upstairs,    "  poor   old 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  69 

Caleb  would  furnish  me  with  ample  meaus.  His  passion  con- 
sists in  representing  things  about  our  miserable  menage,  not 
as  they  are,  but  as,  in  his  opinion,  they  ought  to  be  ;  and,  to 
say  the  truth,  I  have  been  often  diverted  with  the  poor 
wretch's  expedients  to  supply  what  he  thought  was  essential 
for  the  credit  of  the  family,  and  his  still  more  generous  apol- 
ogies for  the  want  of  those  articles  for  which  his  ingenuity 
could  discover  no  substitute.  But  though  the  tower  is  none 
of  the  largest,  I  shall  have  some  trouble  without  him  to  find 
the  apartment  in  which  there  is  a  fire."^ 

As  he  spoke  thus,  he  opened  the  door  of  the  hall.  "  Here, 
at  least,"  he  said,  "there  is  neither  hearth  nor  harbor." 

It  was  indeed  a  scene  of  desolation.  A  large  vaulted 
room,  the  beams  of  which,  combined  like  those  of  West- 
minster Hall,  were  rudely  carved  at  the  extremities,  remained 
nearly  in  the  situation  in  which  it  had  been  left  after  the 
entertainment  at  Allan  Lord  Eavenswood's  funeral.  Over- 
turned pitchers,  and  black-jacks,  and  pewter  stoups,  and  flag- 
ons still  cumbered  the  large  oaken  table  ;  glasses,  those  more 
perishable  implements  of  conviviality,  many  of  which  had 
been  voluntarily  sacrificed  by  the  guests  in  their  enthusiastic 
pledges  to  favorite  toasts,  strewed  tlie  stone  floor  with  their 
fragments.  As  for  the  articles  of  plate,  lent  for  the  purpose 
by  friends  and  kinsfolk,  those  had  been  carefully  withdrawn  so 
soon  as  the  ostentatious  display  of  festivity,  equally  unneces- 
sary and  strangely  timed,  had  been  made  and  ended.  Noth- 
ing, in  short,  remained  that  indicated  wealth  ;  all  the  signs 
were  those  of  recent  Avastefulness  and  present  desolation.  The 
black  cloth  hangings,  which,  on  the  late  mournful  occasion, 
replaced  the  tattered  moth-eaten  tapestries,  had  been  partly 
pulled  down,  and,  dangling  from  the  wall  in  irregular  fes- 
toons, disclosed  the  rough  stonework  of  the  building,  un- 
smoothed  either  by  plaster  or  the  chisel.  The  seats  thrown 
iown,  or  left  in  disorder,  intimated  the  careless  confusion 
which  had  concluded  the  mournful  revel.  "This  room," 
said  Ravenswood,  holding  up  the  lamp — "  this  room,  Mr. 
Hayston,  was  riotous  when  it  should  have  been  sad  ;  it  is  a 
just  retribution  that  it  should  now  be  sad  when  it  ought  to 
be  cheerful." 

They  left  this  disconsolate  apartment,  and  went  upstairs, 
where,  after  opening  one  or  two  doors  in  vain,  Ravenswood 
led  the  way  into  a  little  matted  anteroom,  in  which,  to  their 
great  joy,  they  found  a  tolerably  good  fire,  which  Mysie,  by 
8ome  such  expedient  as  Caleb  had  suggested,  had  supplied 
with  a  reasonable  quantity  of  fuel.     Glad  at  the  heart  to  see 


70  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

more  of  comfort  than  the  castle  had  yet  seemed  to  offer, 
Bucklaw  rubbed  his  hands  heartily  over  the  fire,  and  now 
listened  with  more  complacency  to  the  apologies  which  the 
Master  of  Ravenswood  offered.  "  Comfort, ^^  he  said,  "  I 
cannot  provide  for  you,  for  I  have  it  not  for  myself ;  it  is  long 
since  these  walls  have  known  it,  if,  indeed,  they  were  ever 
acquainted  with  it.  Shelter  and  safety,  I  think,  I  can 
promise  you.'' 

"Excellent  matters.  Master,"  replied  Bucklaw,  "and, 
with  a  mouthful  of  food  and  wine,  positively  all  I  can  require 
to-night." 

"I  fear,"  said  the  Master,  "your  supper  will  be  a  poor 
one  ;  I  hear  the  matter  in  discussion  betwixt  Caleb  and  Mysie. 
Poor  Balderstone  is  something  deaf,  among  his  other  accom- 
plishments, so  that  much  of  what  he  means  should  be  spoken 
aside  is  overheard  by  the  whole  audience,  and  especially  by 
those  from  whom  he  is  most  anxious  to  conceal  his  private 
manoeuvres.     Hark  !" 

They  listened,  and  heard  the  old  domestic's  voice  in  con- 
versation with  Mysie  to  the  following  effect : 

"Just  mak  the  best  o't — mak  the  best  o't,  woman;  it's 
easy  to  put  a  fair  face  on  ony thing." 

"But  the  auld  brood-hen?  She'll  be  as  teugh  as  bow- 
strings and  bend-leather." 

"Say  ye  made  a  mistake — say  ye  made  a  mistake,  Mysie," 
replied  the  faithful  seneschal,  in  a  soothing  and  undertoned 
voice ;  "  tak  it  a'  on  yoursell ;  never  let  the  credit  o'  the 
house  suffer." 

"But  the  brood-hen,"  remonstrated  Mysie — "  ou,  she's 
sitting  some  gate  aneath  the  dais  in  the  hall,  and  I  am  feared 
to  gae  in  in  the  dark  for  the  bogle  ;  and  if  I  didna  see  the 
bogle,  I  could  as  ill  see  the  hen,  for  it's  pit-mirk,  and  there's 
no  another  light  in  the  house,  save  that  very  blessed  lamp 
whilk  the  Master  has  in  his  ain  hand.  And  if  I  had  the  hen, 
she's  to  pu',  and  to  draw,  and  to  dress ;  how  can  I  do  that, 
and  them  sitting  by  the  only  fire  we  have  ?" 

"Weel,  weel,  Mysie,"  said  the  butler,  "bide  ye  there  a 
wee,  and  I'll  try  to  get  the  lamp  wiled  away  frae  them." 

Accordingly,  Caleb  Balderstone  entered  the  apartment, 
little  aware  that  so  much  of  his  by-play  had  been  audible 
there.  "  Well,  Caleb,  my  old  friend,  is  there  any  chance  of 
supper  ?  "  said  the  Master  of  Ravenswood. 

"  Chance  of  supper,  your  lordship  ?"  said  Caleb,  with  an 
emphasis  of  strong  scorn  at  the  implied  doubt.  "  How 
should  there  be  ony  question  of  that,  and  us  in  your  lord- 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  W 

ship's  house  ?  Chance  of  supper,  indeed  !  But  yell  no  be 
for  butcher-meat  ?  There's  walth  o'  fat  poultry,  ready  either 
for  spit  or  brander.  The  fat  capon,  Mysie  !"  he  added,  call- 
ing out  as  boldly  as  if  such  a  thing  had  been  in  existence. 

"  Quite  unnecessary,"  said  Bucklaw,  who  deemed  himself 
bound  in  courtesy  to  relieve  some  part  of  the  anxious  butler's 
perplexity,  "  if  you  have  anything  cold,  or  a  morsel  of 
bread." 

"  The  best  of  bannocks ! "  exclaimed  Caleb,  much  re- 
lieved ;  **  and,  for  cauld  meat,  a'  that  we  hae  is  cauld  eneugh, 
— howbeit,  maist  of  the  cauld  meat  and  pastry  Avas  gieu  to 
the  poor  folk  after  the  ceremony  of  interment,  as  gude  reason 
was  ;  nevertheless " 

"  Come,  Caleb,"  said  the  Master  of  Ravenswood,  ''I  must 
cut  this  matter  short.  This  is  the  young  Laird  of  Bucklaw  ; 
he  is  under  hiding,  and  therefore,  you  know " 

"  He'll  be  nae  nicer  than  your  lordship's  honor.  I'se  war- 
rant," answered  Caleb,  cheerfully,  with  a  nod  of  intelligence  ; 
*'  I  am  sorry  that  the  gentleman  is  under  distress,  but  I  am 
blithe  that  he  canna  say  muckle  agane  our  housekeeping, 
for  I  believe  his  ain  pinches  may  match  ours  ;  no  that  we  are 
pinched,  thank  God,"  he  added,  retracting  the  admission 
which  he  had  made  in  his  first  burst  of  joy,  "but  nae  doubt 
we  are  waur  aff  than  we  hae  been,  or  suld  be.  And  for  eat- 
ing— what  signifies  telling  a  lee  ?  there's  just  the  hinder  end 
of  the  mutton-ham  that  has  been  but  three  times  on  the  table, 
and  the  nearer  the  bane  the  sweeter,  as  your  honors  weel 
ken  ;  and — tliere's  the  heel  of  the  ewe-milk  kebbuck,  wi'  a 
bit  of  nice  butter,  and — and — that's  a'  that's  to  trust  to." 
And  with  great  alacrity  he  produced  his  slender  stock  of  pro- 
visions, and  placed  them  with  much  formality  upon  a  small 
round  table  betwixt  the  two  gentlemen,  who  were  not  de- 
terred either  by  the  homely  quality  or  limited  quantity  of  the 
repast  from  doing  it  full  justice.  Caleb  in  the  mean  while 
waited  on  them  with  grave  officiousness,  as  if  anxious  to 
make  up,  by  his  own  respectful  assiduity,  for  the  want  of  all 
other  attendance. 

But,  alas  !  how  little  on  such  occasions  can  form,  however 
anxiously  and  scrupulously  observed,  supply  the  lack  of  sub- 
stantial fare  !  Bucklaw,  who  had  eagerly  eaten  a  considerable 
portion  of  the  thrice-sacked  mutton-ham,  now  began  to  de- 
mand ale. 

"  I  wadna  just  presume  to  recommend  our  ale,"  said  Caleb  ; 
**  the  maut  was  ill  made,  and  there  was  awfu'  thunner  last 
week  ;  but  siccan  water  as  the  Tower  well  has  ye'll  seldom  see, 
Bucklaw.  and  that  I'se  engage  for**' 


73  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

**  But  if  your  alo  is  bad,  you  can  let  us  have  some  wine,** 
said  Bucklaw,  making  a  grimace  at  the  mention  of  the  pure 
element  which  Caleb  so  earnestly  recommended. 

"Wine!"  answered  Caleb,  undauntedly,  "  eneugh  of 
wine  !  It  was  but  twa  days  syne — wae's  me  for  the  cause — 
there  was  as  much  wine  drank  in  this  house  as  would  have 
floated  a  pinnace.  There  never  was  lack  of  wine  at  Wolf's 
Crag." 

"  Do  fetch  us  some  then,"  said  his  master,  "instead  of 
talking  about  it."     And  Caleb  boldly  departed. 

Every  expended  butt  in  the  old  cellar  did  he  set  a-tilt,  and 
shake  with  the  desperate  expectation  of  collecting  enough  of 
the  grounds  of  claret  to  fill  the  large  pewter  measure  which  he 
carried  in  his  hand.  Alas  !  each  had  been  too  devoutly 
drained  ;  and,  with  all  the  squeezing  and  manoeuvring  which 
his  craft  as  a  butler  suggested,  he  could  only  collect  about 
half  a  quart  that  seemed  presentable.  Still,  however,  Caleb 
was  too  good  a  general  to  renounce  the  field  without  a  strata- 
gem to  cover  his  retreat.  He  undauntedly  threw  down  an 
empty  flagon,  as  if  he  had  stumbled  at  the  entrance  of  the 
apartment,  called  upon  Mysie  to  wipe  up  the  wine  that  had 
never  been  spilled,  and  placing  the  other  vessel  on  the  table, 
hoped  there  was  still  enough  left  for  their  honors.  There 
was  indeed ;  for  even  Bucklaw,  a  sworn  friend  to  the  grape, 
found  no  encouragement  to  renew  his-  first  attack  upon  the 
vintage  of  Wolf's  Crag,  but  contented  himself,  however  re- 
luctantly, with  a  draught  of  fair  water-  Arrangements  were 
now  made  for  his  repose  ;  and  as  the  secret  chamber  was  as- 
signed for  this  purpose,  it  furnished  Caleb  with  a  first-rate 
and  most  plausible  apology  for  all  deficiencies  of  furniture, 
bedding,  etc. 

"  For  wha,"  said  he,  "  would  have  thought  of  the  secret 
chaumer  being  needed  ?  It  has  not  been  used  ^ince  the  time 
of  the  Cowrie  Conspiracy,  and  I  durst  never  let  a  woman  ken 
of  the  entrance  to  it,  or  your  honor  will  allow  tl>at  it  wad  not 
hae  been  a  secret  chaumer  lang/' 


CHAPTER  VIII 

The  hearth  in  hall  was  black  and  dead, 
No  board  was  dight  in  bower  within, 

Nor  merry  bowl  nor  welcome  bed  ; 

"  Here's  sorry  cheer,"  quoth  the  Heir  of  Linne. 

Old  Ballad. 

The  feelings  of  the  prodigal  Heir  of  Linne,  as  expressed  in 
that  excellent  old  song,  when,  after  dissipating  his  whole  for- 
tune, he  found  himself  the  deserted  inhabitant  of  "the  lonely 
lodge,''  might  perhaps  have  some  resemblance  to  those  of  the 
Master  of  Eavenswood  in  his  deserted  mansion  of  Wolf's  Crag. 
The  Master,  however,  had  this  advantage  over  the  spendthrift 
in  the  legend,  that,  if  he  was  in  similar  distress,  he  could  not 
impute  it  to  his  own  imprudence.  His  misery  had  been  be- 
queathed to  him  by  his  father,  and,  joined  to  his  high  blood, 
and  to  a  title  which  the  courteous  might  give  or  the  churlish 
withhold  at  their  pleasure,  it  was  the  whole  inheritance  he 
had  derived  from  his  ancestry. 

Perhaps  this  melancholy  yet  consolatory  reflection  crossed 
the  mind  of  the  nnfortunate  young  nobleman  with  a  breath- 
ing of  comfort.  Favorable  to  calm  reflection,  as  well  as  to 
the  Mnses,  the  morning,  while  it  dispelled  the  shades  of  night, 
had  a  composing  and  sedative  effect  upon  the  stormy  passions 
by  wliich  the  Master  of  Eavenswood  had  been  agitated  on  the 
l^receding  day.  He  now  felt  liimself  able  to  analyze  the  dif- 
ferent feelings  by  which  he  was  agitated,  and  much  resolved 
to  combat  and  to  subdue  them.  The  morning,  which  had  arisen 
3alm  and  briglit,  gave  a  pleasant  effect  even  to  the  waste 
moorland  view  which  was  seen  from  the  castle  on  looking  to 
the  landward ;  and  the  glorious  ocean,  crisped  with  a  thou- 
sand rippling  waves  of  silver,  extended  on  the  other  side,  in 
awful  yet  complacent  majesty,  to  the  verge  of  the  horizon. 
With  such  scenes  of  calm  sublimity  the  human  heart  sympa- 
thizes even  in  its  most  disturl)ed  moods,  and  deeds  of  honor 
and  virtue  are  inspired  by  tlieir  majestic  influence. 

To  seek  out  Bucklaw  in  the  retreat  which  he  had  afforded 
him  was  the  first  occupation  of  the  Master,  after  he  had  per- 
formed, with  a  scrutiny  unusually  severe,  the  important  task 


74  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

of  self-examination.  "  How  now,  Bucklaw  ?  "  was  his  morn- 
ing's salutation — "how  like  you  the  couch  in  which  the 
exiled  Earl  of  Angus  once  slept  in  security,  when  he  was 
pursued  by  the  full  energy  of  a  king's  resentment  ?  " 

"  Umph  I  "  returned  the  sleeper  awakened  ;  '^  I  have  little 
to  complain  of  where  so  great  a  man  was  quartered  before 
me,  only  the  mattress  was  of  the  hardest,  the  vault  somewhat 
damp,  the  rats  rather  more  mutinous  than  I  would  have  ex- 
pected from  the  state  of  Caleb's  larder ;  and  if  there  had 
been  shutters  to  that  grated  window,  or  a  curtain  to  the  bed) 
I  should  think  it,  upon  the  whole,  an  improvement  in  your 
accommodations. " 

"  It  is,  to  be  sure,  forlorn  enough,"  said  the  Master,  look- 
ing around  the  small  vault;  "  but  if  you  will  rise  and  leave 
it,  Caleb  will  endeavor  to  find  you  a  better  breakfast  than 
your  supper  of  last  night." 

''  Pray,  let  it  be  no  better,"  said  Bucklaw,  getting  up,  and 
endeavoring  to  dress  himself  as  well  as  the  obscurity  of  the 
place  would  permit — ''  let  it,  I  say,  be  no  better,  if  you  mean 
me  to  persevere  in  my  proposed  reformation.  The  very  rec- 
ollection of  Caleb's  beverage  has  done  more  to  suppress  my 
longing  to  open  the  day  with  a  morning  draught  than  twenty 
sermons  would  liave  done.  And  you.  Master,  have  you  been 
able  to  give  battle  valiantly  to  your  bosom-snake  ?  You  see 
I  am  in  the  way  of  smothering  my  vipers  one  by  one." 

'^  I  have  commenced  the  battle,  at  least,  Bucklaw,  and  I 
have  had  a  fair  vision  of  an  angel  who  descended  to  my  assist- 
ance," replied  the  Master. 

'•'Woe's  me!"  said  his  guest,  ''no  vision  can  I  expect, 
unless  my  aunt.  Lady  Grirnington,  should  betake  herself  to 
the  tomb  ;  and  tlieu  it  would  be  the  substance  of  her  heritage 
rather  than  the  appearance  of  her  phantom  that  I  should 
consider  as  the  support  of  my  good  resolutions.  But  this 
same  breakfast.  Master — does  the  deer  that  is  to  make  the 
pasty  run  yet  on  foot,  as  the  ballad  has  it  ?" 

"  I  will  inquire  into  that  matter,"  said  his  entertainer; 
and,  leaving  the  apartment,  he  went  in  search  of  Caleb, 
whom,  after  soma  difficulty,  he  found  in  an  obscure  sort  of 
dungeon,  which  had  been  in  former  times  the  buttery  of  the 
castle.  Here  the  old  man  was  employed  busily  in  the  doubt- 
ful task  of  burnishing  a  pewter  flagon  until  it  should  take 
the  hue  and  semblance  of  silver-plate.  "  I  think  it  may  do — 
I  think  it  might  pass,  if  they  winna  bring  it  ower  muckle  in 
the  light  o'  the  window  ! "  were  the  ejaculations  which  he 
muttered  from  time  to  time,  as  if  to  encourage  himself  in  hist 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  75 

undertaking,  when  he  was  interrupted  by  the  voice  of  hia 
master. 

"Take  this,"  said  the  Master  of  Ravenswood,  "and  get 
what  is  necessary  for  the  family."  And  with  these  words  he 
gave  to  the  old  butler  the  purse  which  had  on  the  preceding 
evening  so  narrowly  escaped  the  fangs  of  Craigengelt. 

The  old  man  shook  his  silvery  and  thin  locks,  and  looked 
with  an  expression  of  the  most  heartfelt  anguish  at  his  master 
as  he  weighed  in  his  hand  the  slender  treasure,  and  said  in 
a  sorrowful  voice,  "And  is  this  a'  that's  left  ?" 

"  All  that  is  left  at  present,"  said  the  Master,  affecting 
more  cheerfulness  than  perhaps  he  really  felt,  "  is  just  the 
green  purse  and  the  wee  pickle  gowd,  as  the  old  song  says  ; 
but  we  shall  do  better  one  day,  Caleb." 

"  Before  that  day  comes,"  said  Caleb,  "  I  doubt  there 
will  be  an  end  of  an  auld  sang,  and  an  auld  serving-man  to 
boot.  But  it  disna  become  me  to  speak  that  gate  to  your 
honor,  and  you  looking  sae  pale.  Tak  back  the  purse,  and 
keep  it  to  be  making  a  show  before  company ;  for  if  your 
honor  would  just  tak  a  bidding,  and  be  whiles  taking  it  out 
afore  folk  and  putting  it  up  again,  there's  naebody  would  re- 
fuse us  trust,  for  a'  that's  come  and  gane  jet." 

"  But,  Caleb,"  said  the  Master,  "  I  still  intend  to  leave 
this  country  very  soon,  and  desire  to  do  so  with  the  reputa- 
tion of  an  honest  man,  leaving  no  debt  behind  me,  at  least 
of  my  own  contracting." 

"And  gude  right  ye  suld  gang  away  as  a  true  man,  and 
so  ye  shall ;  for  auld  Caleb  can  tak  the  wyte  of  whatever  is 
taen  on  for  the  house,  and  then  it  will  be  a'  Just  ae  man's 
burden  ;  and  I  will  live  just  as  weel  in  the  tolbooth  as  out  of 
it,  and  the  credit  of  the  family  will  be  a'  safe  and  sound." 

The  Master  endeavored,  in  vain,  to  make  Caleb  compre- 
hend that  the  butler's  incurring  the  responsibility  of  debts  in 
his  own  person  would  rather  add  to  than  remove  the  objec- 
tions which  he  liad  to  their  being  contracted.  He  spoke  to  a 
premier  too  busy  in  devising  ways  and  means  to  puzzle  him- 
self with  refuting  the  arguments  offered  against  their  justice 
or  expediency. 

"There's"^  Eppie  Sma'trash  will  trust  us  for  ale,"  said 
Caleb  to  himself — "  she  has  lived  a'  her  life  under  the  family 
— and  maybe  wi'  a  soup  brandy  ;  I  canna  say  for  wine — she 
is  but  a  lone  woman,  and  gets  her  claret  by  a  runlet  at  a  time ; 
but  I'll  work  a  wee  drapout  o'  her  by  fair  means  or  foul. 
For  doos,  there's  the  doocot ;  there  will  be  poultry  amang  the 
tenants,  though  Luckie  Chirnside  says  she  has  paid  the  kain 


76  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

twice  ower.  We'll  raak  shift,  an  it  like  your  honor — we^l 
mak  shift ;  keep  your  heart  abune,  for  the  house  sail  haud  its 
credit  as  lang  as  auld  Caleb  is  to  the  fore.'"' 

The  entertainment  which  the  old  man's  exertions  of  vari- 
ous kinds  enabled  him  to  present  to  the  young  gentlemen 
for  three  or  four  da3^s  was  certainly  of  no  splendid  descrip- 
tion, but  it  may  readily  be  believed  it  was  set  before  no 
critical  guests  ;  and  even  the  distresses,  excuses,  evasions,  and 
shifts  of  Caleb  afforded  amusement  to  the  young  men,  and 
added  a  sort  of  interest  to  the  scrambling  and  irregular  style 
of  their  table.  They  had  indeed  occasion  to  seize  on  every 
circumstance  that  might  serve  to  diversify  or  enliven  time, 
which  otherwise  passed  away  so  heavily. 

Bucklaw,  shut  out  from  his  usual  field-sports  and  joyous 
carouses  by  the  necessity  of  remaining  concealed  within  the 
walls  of  the  castle,  became  a  joyless  and  uninteresting  com- 
panion. When  the  Master  of  Ravenswood  would  no  longer 
fence  or  play  at  shovel-board  ;  when  he  himself  had  polished 
to  the  extremity  the  coat  of  his  joalfrey  with  brush,  curry- 
comb, and  hair- cloth  ;  when  he  had  seen  him  eat  his  prov- 
ender, and  gently  lie  down  in  his  stall,  he  could  hardly  help 
envying  the  animal's  apparent  acquiescence  in  a  life  so  mo- 
notonous. "The  stupid  brute,"  he  said,  "thinks  neither  of 
the  race-ground  or  the  hunting-field,  or  his  green  paddock  at 
Bucklaw,  but  enjoys  himself  as  comfortably  when  haltered 
to  the  rack  in  this  ruinous  vault,  as  if  he  had  been  foaled  in 
it ;  and  I,  who  have  the  freedom  of  a  prisoner  at  large,  to 
range  through  the  dungeons  of  this  wretched  old  tower,  can 
hardly,  betwixt  whistling  and  sleeping,  contrive  to  pass  away 
the  hour  till  dinner-time." 

And  with  this  disconsolate  reflection,  he  wended  his  way 
to  the  bartizan  or  battlements  of  the  tower,  to  watch  what 
objects  might  appear  on  the  distant  moor,  or  to  pelt,  with 
pebbles  and  pieces  of  lime,  the  sea-mews  and  cormorants 
which  estal^lished  themselves  incautiously  within  the  reach 
of  an  idle  young  man. 

Ravenswo(3d,  with  a  mind  incalculably  deeper  and  more 
powerful  than  that  of  liis  companion,  had  his  own  anxious 
subjects  of  reflection,  which  wrought  for  him  the  same  un- 
happiness  that  sheer  e:;^/^?^^  and  want  of  occupation  inflicted 
on  his  companion.  The  first  sight  of  Lucy  Asliton  had  been 
less  impressive  than  her  image  proved  to  be  upon  reflection. 
As  the  depth  and  violence  of  that  revengeful  passion  by 
which  he  had  been  actuated  in  seeking  an  interview  with  the 
father  began  to   abate  by  degrees,  he  looked  back   on  his 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOxv  71 

conduct  towards  the  daugliter  as  harsh  and  unworthy  towards 
a  female  of  rank  and  bean  ty .  Her  looks  of  grateful  acknowledg- 
ment, her  words  of  affectionate  courtesy,  had  been  repelled 
with  something  which  approached  to  disdain  ;  and  if  the  Mas- 
ter of  Ravenswood  had  sustained  wrongs  at  the  hand  of  Sir 
William  Ashton,  his  conscience  told  him  they  had  been  un- 
handsomely resented  towards  his  daughter.  When  his 
tlioughts  took  this  turn  of  self-reproach,  the  recollection  of 
Lucy  x\shton's  beautiful  features,  rendered  yet  more  interest- 
ing by  the  circumstances  in  which  their  meeting  had  taken 
place,  made  an  impression  upon  his  mind  at  once  soothing 
and  painful.  The  sweetness  of  her  voice,  the  delicacy  of  her 
expressions,  the  vivid  glow  of  her  filial  affection,  embittered 
his  regret  at  having  repulsed  her  gratitude  with  rudeness, 
while,  at  the  same  time,  they  placed  before  his  imagination 
a  picture  of  the  most  seducing  sweetness. 

Even  young  Ravens  wood's  strength  of  moral  feeling  and 
rectitude  of  purpose  at  once  increased  the  danger  of  cherish- 
ing these  recollections,  and  the  propensity  to  entertain  them. 
Firmly  resolved  as  he  was  to  subdue,  if  possible,  the  predom- 
inating vice  in  his  character,  he  admitted  with  willingness — 
nay,  he  summoned  up  in  his  imagination — the  ideas  by  which 
it  could  be  most  powerfully  counteracted  ;  and,  while  he  did 
so,  a  sense  of  his  own  harsli  conduct  towards  the  daughter  of 
his  enemy  naturally  induced  him,  as  if  by  way  of  recompense, 
to  invest  her  with  more  of  grace  and  beauty  than  perhaps  she 
could  actually  claim. 

Had  any  one  at  this  period  told  the  Master  of  Ravenswood 
that  he  had  so  lately  vowed  vengeance  against  the  whole  lin- 
eage of  him  whom  he  considered,  not  unjustly,  as  author  of 
his  father's  ruin  and  death,  he  might  at  first  have  repelled  the 
charge  as  a  foul  calumny  ;  yet,  upon  serious  self-examination, 
he  would  have  been  compelled  to  admit  that  it  had,  at  one 
period,  some  foundation  in  truth,  though,  according  to  the 
present  tone  of  his  sentiments,  it  was  difficult  to  believe  that 
this  had  really  been  the  case. 

There  already  existed  in  his  bosom  two  contradictory  pas- 
sions— a  desire  to  revenge  the  death  of  his  father,  strangely 
qualified  by  admiration  of  his  enemy's  daughter.  Against  the 
former  feeling  he  had  struggled,  until  it  seemed  to  him  upon 
the  wane  ;  against  the  latter  he  used  no  means  of  resistance, 
for  he  did  not  suspect  its  existence.  That  this  was  actually 
the  case  was  chiefly  evinced  by  his  resuming  his  resolution  to 
leave  Scotland.  Yet,  though  such  was  his  purpose,  he  re- 
.mainyd  day  after  day  at  Wolf's  Crag,  without  taking  measures 


78  WAVEBLEV  NOVELS 

for  carrying  it  into  execution.  It  is  true,  that  he  had  written 
to  one  or  two  kinsmen  who  resided  in  a  distant  quarter  of 
Scotland,  and  particularly  to  the  Marquis  of  A ,  intimat- 
ing his  purpose  ;  and  when  pressed  upon  the  subject  by  Buck- 
law,  he  was  wont  to  allege  the  necessity  of  waiting  for  their 
reply,  especially  that  of  the  Marquis,  before  taking  so  decisive 
a  measure. 

The  Marquis  was  rich  and  powerful  ;  and  although  he  was 
suspected  to  entertain  sentiments  unfavorable  to  the  govern- 
•  ment  established  at  the  Eevolution,  he  had  nevertheless  address 
enough  to  head  a  party  in  the  Scottish  privy  council,  con- 
nected with  the  High  Church  faction  in  England,  and  power- 
ful enough  to  jnenace  those  to  whom  the  Lord  Keeper  adhered 
with  a  probable  subversion  of  their  power.  The  consulting 
with  a  personage  of  such  importance  was  a  plausible  excuse, 
which  Ravenswood  used  to  Bucklaw,  and  probably  to  himself, 
for  continuing  his  residence  at  Wolffs  Crag ;  and  it  was  ren- 
dered yet  more  so  by  a  general  report  which  began  to  be  cur- 
rent of  a  probable  change  of  ministers  and  measures  in  the 
Scottish  administration.  These  rumors,  strongly  asserted  by 
some,  and  as  resolutely  denied  by  others,  as  their  wishes  or 
interest  dictated,  found  their  way  even  to  the  ruinous  Tower 
of  Wolf's  Crag,  chiefly  through  the  medium  of  Caleb,  the  but- 
ler, who,  among  his  other  excellences,  was  an  ardent  politi- 
cian, and  seldom  made  an  excursion  from  the  old  fortress  to 
the  neighboring  village  of  Wolf's  Hope  without  bringing 
back  what  tidings  were  current  in  the  vicinity. 

But  if  Bucklaw  could  not  oifer  any  satisfactory  objections 
to  the  delay  of  the  Master  in  leaving  Scotland,  he  did  not  the 
less  suffer  with  impatience  the  state  of  inaction  to  which  it 
confined  him  ;  and  it  was  only  the  ascendency  which  his  new 
companion  had  acquired  over  him  that  induced  him  to  sub- 
mit to  a  course  of  life  so  alien  to  his  habits  and  inclinations. 

"  You  were  wont  to  be  thought  a  stirring  active  young 
fellow,  Master,"  was  his  frequent  remonstrance  ;  "  yet  here 
you  seem  determined  to  live  on  and  on  like  a  rat  in  a  hole,  with 
this  trifling  difference,  that  the  wiser  vermin  chooses  a  her- 
mitage where  he  can  find  food  at  least ;  but  as  for  us,  Caleb's 
excuses  become  longer  as  his  diet  turns  more  spare,  and  I  fear 
we  shall  realize  the  stories  they  tell  of  the  sloth  :  we  have  al- 
most eat  up  the  last  green  leaf  on  the  plant,  and  have  noth- 
ing left  for  it  but  to  drop  from  the  tree  and  break  our  necks." 

"Do  not  fear  it,"  said  Ravenswood;  "there  is  a  fate 
watches  for  us,  and  we  too  have  a  stake  in  the  revolution  that 
IS  now  impending,  and  which  already  has  alarmed  many  a 
bosom.'' 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  79 

"  What  fate — what  revolution  ?^' inquired  his  companion. 
^'  We  have  had  one  revolution  too  much  already,  I  thmk." 

Ravenswood  interrupted  him  by  putting  into  his  hands  a 
letter. 

''  0,"  answered  Bucklaw,  "  my  dream's  out.  I  thought  I 
heard  Caleb  this  morning  pressing  some  unfortunate  fellow 
to  a  drink  of  cold  water,  and  assuring  him  it  was  better  for 
his  stomach  in  the  morning  than  ale  or  brandy." 

"It  was  my  Lord  of  A 's  courier,"  said  Ravenswood, 

"  who  was  doomed  to  experience  his  ostentatious  hospitality, 
which  I  believe  ended  in  sour  beer  and  herrings.  Read,  and 
you  will  see  the  news  he  has  brought  us." 

"  I  will  as  fast  as  I  can,"  said  Bucklaw  ;  "but  I  am  no 
great  clerk,  nor  does  his  lordsliip  seem  to  be  the  first  of 
scribes." 

The  reader  will  peruse,  in  a  few  seconds,  by  the  aid  of  our 
friend  Ballantyne's  *  types,  what  took  Bucklaw  a  good  half 
hour  in  perusal,  though  assisted  by  the  Master  of  Ravenswood. 
The  tenor  was  as  follows  : 

"Right  Honorable  our  Cousin, 

"  Our  hearty  commendations  premised,  these  come  to 
assure  you  of  the  interest  which  we  take  in  your  welfare,  and 
in  your  purposes  towards  its  augmentation.  If  we  have  been 
less  active  in  showing  forth  our  effective  good-will  towards 
you  than,  as  a  loving  kinsman  and  blood-relative,  we  would 
willingly  have  desired,  we  request  that  you  will  impute  it  to 
lack  of  opportunity  to  show  our  good-liking,  not  to  any  cold- 
ness of  our  will.  Touching  your  resolution  to  travel  in  for- 
eign parts,  as  at  this  time  we  hold  the  same  little  advisable,  in 
respect  that  your  ill-willers  may,  according  to  the  custom  of 
such  persons,  impute  motives  for  your  Journey,  whereof,  al- 
though we  know  and  believe  you  to  be  as  clear  as  ourselves,  yet 
natheless  their  words  may  find  credence  in  places  where  the 
belief  in  them  may  much  prejudice  you,  and  which  we  should 
see  with  more  unwillingness  and  displeasure  than  with  means 
of  remedy. 

"Having  thus,  as  becometh  our  kindred,  given  you  our 
poor  mind  on  the  subject  of  your  journeying  forth  of  Scot- 
land, we  would  willingly  add  reasons  of  weight,  which  might 
materially  advantage  you  and  your  father's  house,  thereby  to 
determine  you  to  abide  at  Wolf's  Crag,  until  this  harvest  sea- 
son shall  be  passed  over.  But  what  sayeth  the  proverb,  ver- 
hum  sapienti — a  word  is  more  to  him  that  hath  wisdom  than 
a  sermon  to  a  fool.     And  albeit  we  have  written  this  poor 


80  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

scroll  with  our  own  hand,  and  are  well  assured  of  the  fidelity 
of  our  messenger,  as  him  that  is  many  ways  bounden  to  us, 
yet  so  it  is,  that  sliddery  ways  crave  wary  walking,  and  that 
we  may  not  peril  upon  paper  matters  which  we  would  gladly 
impart  to  you  by  word  of  mouth.  Wherefore,  it  was  our 
purpose  to  have  prayed  you  heartily  to  come  to  this  our  bar- 
ren Highland  country  to  kill  a  stag,  and  to  treat  of  the  matters 
which  we  are  now  more  painfully  inditing  to  you  anent. 
But  commodity  does  not  serve  at  present  for  such  our  meet- 
ing, which,  therefore,  shall  be  deferred  until  sic  time  as  we 
may  in  all  mirth  rehearse  those  things  M^hereof  we  now  keep 
silence.  Meantime,  we  pray  you  to  think  that  we  are,  and 
will  still  be,  your  good  kinsman  and  well-wisher,  waiting  but 
"tor  times  of  whilk  we  do,  as  it  were,  entertain  a  twilight 
prospect,  and  appear  and  hope  to  be  also  your  effectual  well- 
loer.  And  in  which  hope  we  heartily  write  ourself, 
"  Right  Honorable, 

"  Your  loving  cousin, 

"A . 

''Given  from  our  poor  house  of  B ,"  etc. 

Superscribed — ''For  the  right  honorable,  and  our  honored 
kinsman,  the  Master  of  Ravenswood — These,  with  haste, 
tiaste,  post  haste — ride  and  run  until  these  be  delivered." 

"What  think  you  of  this  epistle,  Bucklaw  ?"  said  the 
Master,  when  his  companion  had  hammered  out  all  the  sense, 
and  almost  all  the  words  of  which  it  consisted. 

"Truly,  that  the  Marquis's  meaning  is  as  great  a  riddle  as 
Ms  manuscript.  He  is  really  in  much  need  of  Wit's  Inter- 
'preter,  or  the  Complete  Letter-  Writer,  and  were  I  you,  I  would 
send  him  a  copy  by  the  bearer.  He  writes  you  very  kindly  to 
remain  wasting  your  time  and  your  money  in  this  vile,  stupid, 
oppressed  country,  without  so  much  as  offering  you  the  coun- 
tenance and  shelter  of  his  house.  In  my  opinion,  he  has  some 
scheme  in  view  in  which  he  supposes  you  can  be  useful,  and 
he  wishes  to  keep  you  at  hand,  to  make  use  of  you  when  it 
ripens,  reserving  the  power  of  turning  you  adrift,  should  his 
plot  fail  in  the  concoction." 

"  His  plot !  Then  you  suppose  it  is  a  treasonable  busi- 
ness," answered  Ravenswood. 

"  What  else  can  it  be  ?  "  replied  Bucklaw ;  "  the  Marquis 
has  been  long  suspected  to  have  an  eye  to  Saint  Germains.  ' 

"  He  should  not  engage  me  rashly  in  such  an  adventure," 
aaid  Ravenswood ;  ' '  when  I  recollect  the  times  of  the  first  and 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  SI 

second  Charles,  and  of  the  last  James,  truly  I  see  little  reason 
that,  as  a  man  or  a  patriot,  I  should  draw  my  sword  for  their 
descendants." 

"  Humph  ! "  replied  Bucklaw ;  "  so  you  have  set  yourself 
down  to  mourn  over  the  crop-eared  dogs  whom  honest  Claver'se 
treated  as  they  deserved  ?  '' 

"  They  first  gave  the  dogs  an  ill  name,  and  then  hanged 
them,"  replied  Ravenswood.  "I  hope  to  see  the  day  wher 
justice  shall  he  open  to  Whig  and  Tory,  and  when  these  nick- 
names shall  only  be  used  among  coffee-house  politicians,  as> 
'slut'  and  'jade'  are  among  apple-women,  as  cant  terms* 
of  idle  sjjite  and  rancor." 

''  That  will  not  be  i)i  our  days.  Master  :  the  iron  has  entered 
too  deeply  into  our  sides  and  our  souls." 

"  It  will  be,  however,  one  day,"  replied  the  Master  ;  "  men 
will    not  always    start  at   these  nicknames   as  at  a  trumpet- . 
sound.     As  social  life  is  better   protected,  its  comforts  wili 
become  too  dear  to  be  hazarded  without  some  better  reason 
than  speculative  politics." 

"  It  is  fine  talking,"  answered  Bucklaw  ;  "but  my  heaii 
is  with  the  old  song — 

"  '  To  see  good  corn  upon  the  rigs. 

And  a  gallows  built  to  hang  the  Whigs, 

And  the  right  restored  where  the  right  should  be, 

O,  that  is  the  thing  that  would  wanton  me.'  " 

"  You  may  sing  as  loudly  as  you  will,  cantahit  vacuus —  -,* 
answered  the  Master;  "but  I  believe  the  Marquis  is  toe 
wise,  at  least  too  wary,  to  join  you  in  such  a  burden.  I  sus- 
pect he  alludes  to  a  revolution  in  the  Scottish  privy  council. 
rather  than  in  the  British  kingdoms." 

"  0,  confusion  to  your  state  tricks  !  "  exclaimed  Bucklaw — 
"your  cold  calculating  manoeuvres,  which  old  gentlemen  in 
wrouglit  nightcaps  and  furred  gowns  execute  like  so  many 
games  at  cliess,  and  displace  a  treasurer  or  lord  commissioner 
as  they  would  take  a  rook  or  a  pawn.  Tennis  for  my  sport, 
and  battle  for  my  earnest !  My  racket  and  my  sword  for  my 
playtliing  and  bread-winner  !  And  you.  Master,  so  deep  and 
considerate  as  you  would  seem,  you  have  that  within  you 
makes  the  blood  boil  faster  than  suits  your  present  humor  of 
jnoralizing  on  political  truths.  You  are  one  of  those  wise 
men  who  see  everything  with  great  composure  till  their  blood 
is  up,  and  then — woe  to  any  one  who  should  put  them  in 
mind  of  their  own  prudential  maxims  !" 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Ravenswood,  "you  read  me  more  rightlv 
than  I  can  myself.     But  to  tiunk  justly  will  certainly  go  some 


83  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

length  in  helping  me  to  act  so.     But  hark !  I  hear   Caleb 
tolling  the  dinner-bell." 

"  Which  he  always  does  with  the  more  sonorous  grace  in 
proportion  to  the  meagreness  of  the  cheer  which  he  has  pro- 
vided," said  Bueklaw  ;  "as  if  that  infernal  clang  and  jangle, 
which  will  one  day  bring  the  belfry  down  the  cliif,  could  con- 
vert a  starved  hen  into  a  fat  capon,  and  a  blade-bone  of  mut- 
ton into  a  hannch  of  venison." 

"I  wish  we  may  be  so  well  off  as  your  Avorst  conjectures 
surmise,  Bueklaw,  from  the  extreme  solemnity  and  ceremony 
with  which  Caleb  seems  to  place  on  the  table  that  solitary 
covered  dish." 

"Uncover,  Caleb!  uncover,  for  Heaven's  sake!"  said 
Bueklaw  ;  "  let  us  have  what  you  can  give  us  without  preface. 
Why,  it  stands  Avell  enough,  man,"  he  continued,  addressing 
impatiently  the  ancient  butler,  who,  without  reply,  kept 
shifting  the  dish,  until  he  had  at  length  placed  it  with  math- 
ematical precision  in  the  very  midst  of  the  table. 

"What  have  we  got  here,  Caleb?"  inquired  the  Master  in 
his  turn. 

"  Ahem  !  sir,  ye  suld  have  known  before  ;  but  his  honor 
the  Laird  of  Bueklaw  is  so  impatient,"  answered  Caleb,  still 
holding  the  dish  vvitli  one  hand  and  the  cover  with  the  other, 
with  evident  reluctance  to  disclose  the  contents. 

"  But  what  is  it,  a  God's  name — not  a  pair  of  clean  spurs, 
I  hope,  in  the  Border  fashion  of  old  times  ?  " 

"  Ahem  !  ahem  !  "  reiterated  Caleb,  "your  honor  is  pleased 
to  be  facetious  ;  natheless,  I  might  presume  to  say  it  was  a 
convenient  fashion,  and  used,  as  I  have  heard,  in  an  honor- 
able and  thriving  family.  But  touching  your  present  dinner, 
I  judged  that  this  being  St.  Magdalen's  [Margaret's]  Eve, 
who  was  a  worthy  queen  of  Scotland  in  her  day,  your  honors 
might  judge  it  decorous,  if  not  altogether  to  fast,  yet  only 
to  sustain  nature  with  some  slight  refection,  as  ane  saulted 
herring  or  the  like."  And,  uncovering  the  dish,  he  displayed 
four  of  the  savory  fishes  which  he  mentioned,  adding,  in  a 
subdued  tone,  "  that  they  were  no  just  common  herring 
neither,  being  every  ane  melters,  and  sauted  with  uncom- 
mon care  by  the  housekeeper  [poor  Mysie]  for  his  honor's 
especial  use." 

"Out  upon  all  apologies  !"  said  the  Master,  " let  us  eat 
the  herrings,  since  there  is  nothing  better  to  be  had  ;  but  I 
begin  to  think  with  you,  Bueklaw,  that  we  are  consuming 
the  last  green  leaf,  and  that,  in  spite  of  the  Marquis's  politi- 
cal machinations,  we  must  positively  shift  camp  for  want  of. 
forage,  without  waiting  the  issue  of  them." 


CHAPTER  IX 

Ay,  and  when  huntsmen  wind  the  merry  horn, 

And  from  its  covert  starts  the  fearful  prey. 

Who,  warni'd  with  youth's  blood  in  his  swelling  veina 

Would,  like  a  lifeless  clod,  outstretched  lie, 

Shut  out  from  all  the  fair  creation  offers? 

Ethwald,  Act  I.,  Scene  1, 

Light  meals  procure  light  slumbers ;  and  therefore  it  ia 
not  surprising  that,  considering  the  fare  which  Caleb's  con- 
science, or  his  necessity,  assuming,  as  will  sometimes  hap- 
pen, that  disguise,  had  assigned  to  the  guests  of  Wolf's  Crag, 
their  slumbers  should  have  been  short. 

In  the  norning  Bucklaw  rushed  into  his  host's  apartment 
with  a  loud  halloo,  which  might  have  awaked  the  dead. 

"Up!  up  I  in  tlie  name  of  Heaven!  The  hunters  are 
out,  the  only  piece  of  sport  I  have  seen  this  month ;  and  you 
lie  here.  Master,  on  a  bed  that  has  little  to  recommend  it  ex- 
cept tliafc  it  may  be  something  softer  than  the  stone  floor  of 
your  ancestor's  vault." 

'•I  wish,"  said  Ravenswood,  raising  his  head  peevishly, 
'\yi>a  had  forborne  so  early  a  jest,  Mr.  Hayston  ;  it  is  really 
no  pleasure  to  lose  the  very  short  repose  which  I  had  just  be- 
gun to  enjoy,  after  a  night  spent  in  thoughts  upon  fortune 
f.ir  harder  than  my  couch,  Bucklaw." 

"Pshaw,  pshaw!"  replied  his  guest;  "get  up — get  up; 
the  hounds  are  abroad.  I  have  saddled  the  horses  myself,  for 
old  Caleb  was  calling  for  grooms  and  lackeys,  and  would 
never  have  proceeded  without  two  hours'  apology  for  the 
absence  of  men  that  were  a  hundred  miles  off.  Get  up^- 
Master ;  I  say  the  hounds  are  out — get  up,  I  say  ;  the  huni" 
is  up."     And  off  ran  Bucklaw. 

"And  I  say,"  said  the  Master,  rising  slowly,  ''  that  noth- 
ing can  concern  me  less.  Whose  hounds  come  so  near  to 
us?" 

"  The  Honorable  Lord  Bittlebrains's,"  answered  Caleb, 
who  had  followed  the  impatient  Laird  of  Bucklaw  into  hi? 
master's  bedroom,  "  and  truly  I  ken  nae  title  they  have  to  be 


84  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

yowling  and  howling  within  the  freedoms  and  immtinities  of 
your  lordsliip's  right  of  free  forestry." 

"Nor  I,  Caleb,"  replied  Eavenswood,  "excepting  that 
they  have  bought  both  the  lands  and  the  right  of  forestry, 
and  may  think  themselves  entitled  to  exercise  the  rights  they 
have  paid  their  money  for." 

"  It  may  be  sae,  my  lord,"  replied  Caleb  ;  "but  it's  no  gen- 
tleman's deed  of  them  to  come  here  and  exercise  such-like 
right,  and  your  lordship  living  at  your  ain  castle  of  Wolf's 
Crag.  Lord  Bittlebrains  would  do  weel  to  remember  what 
his  folk  have  been." 

"  And  we  what  we  now  are,"  said  the  Master,  with  sup- 
pressed bitterness  of  feeling.  "But  reach  me  my  cloak, 
Caleb,  and  I  will  indulge  Bucklaw  with  a  sight  of  this  chase. 
It  is  selfish  to  sacrifice  my  guest's  pleasure  to  my  own." 

"  Sacrifice  !"  echoed  Caleb,  in  a  tone  which  seemed  to  im- 
ply the  total  absurdity  of  his  master  making  the  least  conces- 
sion in  deference  to  any  one — "sacrifice,  indeed  ! — but  I  crave 
your  honor's  pardon,  and  whilk  doublet  is  it  your  pleasure  to 
wear  ?  " 

"  Any  one  you  will,  Caleb ;  ray  wardrobe,  I  suppose,  is 
not  very  extensive." 

"  Not  extensive  ! "  echoed  his  assistant ;  "when  there  is  the 
gray  and  silver  that  your  lordship  bestowed  on  Hew  Hilde- 
brand,  your  outrider ;  and  the  French  velvet  that  went  with 
my  lord  your  father — be  gracious  to  him  ! — my  lord  your 
father's  auld  wardrobe  to  the  puir  friends  of  the  family  ;  and 
the  drap-de-Ben'y " 

"Which  I  gave  to  you,  Caleb,  and  which,  I  suppose,  is 
the  only  dress  we  have  any  chance  to  come  at,  except  that  I 
wore  yesterday ;  pray,  hand  me  that,  and  say  no  more  about 
it." 

"If  your  honor  has  a  fancy," replied  Caleb,  "and  doubt- 
less it's  a  sad-colored  suit,  and  you  are  in  mourning  ;  never- 
theless, I  have  never  tried  on  the  drap-de- Berry — ill  wad  it 
become  me — and  your  honor  having  no  change  of  claiths  at 
this  present — and  it's  weel  brushed,  and  as  there  are  leddies 
down  yonder " 

"Ladies!"  said  Eavenswood;  "and  what  ladies,  pray?" 

"What  do  I  ken,  your  lordship  ?  Looking  down  at  them 
from  the  Warden's  Tower,  I  could  but  see  them  glent  by  wi' 
their  bridles  ringing  and  their  feathers  fluttering,  like  the  court 
of  Elfland." 

"Well,  well,  Caleb,"  replied  the  Master,  "help  me  on 
with  my  cloak,  and  hand  me  my  sword-belt.  What  clatter  is 
that  in  the  courtyard  f 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  85 

'*  Just  Bucklaw  bringing  out  the  horses,"  said  Caleb,  after 
a  glance  through  the  window,  '*'as  if  there  werena  men 
eneugh  in  the  castle,  or  as  if  I  couldna  serve  the  turn  of  ony 
o'  them  that  are  out  o'  the  gate." 

"Alas  !  Caleb,  we  should  want  little  if  your  ability  were 
equal  to  your  will,"'  replied  his  master, 

'^And  I  hope  your  lordship  disna  want  that  miickle,'* 
said  Caleb;  "for,  considering  a' things,  I  trust  we  support 
the  credit  of  the  family  as  weel  as  things  will  permit  of, — only 
Bucklaw  is  aye  sae  frank  and  sae  forward.  And  there  he  has 
brought  out  your  lordship's  palfrey,  without  the  saddle  being 
decored  wi'  the  broidered  sumpter-cloth !  and  I  could  have 
brushed  it  in  a  minute. "" 

''It  is  all  very  well,"  said  his  master,  escaping  from  him 
and  descending  the  narrow  and  steep  winding  staircase  which 
led  to  the  courtyard. 

"  It  may  be  a'  very  weel,"  said  Caleb,  somewhat  peevishly ; 
''but  if  your  lordship  wad  tarry  a  bit,  I  will  tell  you  what  will 
not  be  very  w^eel." 

"And  what  is  that  ?"  said  Kavenswood,  impatiently,  but 
stopping  at  the  same  time. 

"Why,  just  that  ye  suld  speer  ony  gentleman  hame  to 
dinner ;  for  I  canna  mak  anither  fast  on  a  feast  day,  as  when 
I  cam  ower  Bucklaw  wi'  Queen  Margaret ;  and,  to  speak 
truth,  if  your  lordship  wad  but  please  to  cast  yoursell  in  the 
way  of  dining  wi'  Lord  Bittlebrains,  I'se  warrand  I  wad  cast 
about  brawly  for  the  morn ;  or  if,  stead  o'  that,  ye  wad  but 
dine  wi'  them  at  the  change-house,  ye  might  mak  your  shift 
for  the  lawing :  ye  might  say  ye  had  forgot  your  purse,  or 
that  the  carline  awed  ye  rent,  and  that  ye  wad  allow  it  in  the 
settlement." 

"  Or  any  otlier  lie  that  came  uppermost,  I  suppose  ?"  said 
his  master.  "  Good-by,  Caleb  ;  I  commend  your  care  for 
the  honor  of  the  family."  And,  throwing  himself  on  his 
horse,  he  followed  Bucklaw,  who,  at  the  manifest  risk  of  his 
neck,  had  begun  to  gallop  down  the  steep  path  which  led 
from  the  Tower  as  soon  as  he  saw  Kavenswood  have  his  foot 
in  the  stirrup. 

Caleb  Balderstone  looked  anxiously  after  them,  and  shook 
his  thin  gray  locks — "  And  I  trust  they  will  come  to  no  evil ; 
but  they  have  reached  the  plain,  and  folk  cannot  say  but  that 
the  horse  are  hearty  and  in  spirits." 

Animated  by  the  natural  impetuosity  and  fire  of  his  tem- 
per, young  Bucklaw  rushed  on  with  the  careless  speed  of  a 
whirlwind.     Raveuswood  was  scarce  more  moderate  in  his 


86  WA  VERLEY  NOVELS 

pace,  for  his  was  a  mind  unwillingly  roused  from  contempla- 
tive inactivity,  but  which,  when  once  put  into  motion, 
acquired  a  spirit  of  forcible  and  violent  progression.  Neither 
was  his  eagei'ness  proportioned  in  all  cases  to  the  motive  of 
impulse,  but  might  be  compared  to  the  speed  of  a  stone, 
which  rushes  with  like  fury  down  the  hill  whether  it  was  first 
put  in  motion  by  the  arm  of  a  giant  or  the  hand  of  a  boy. 
He  felt,  therefore,  in  no  ordinary  degree,  the  headlong  im- 
pulse of  the  chase,  a  pastime  so  natural  to  youth  of  all  ranks, 
that  it  seems  rather  to  be  an  inherent  passion  in  our  animal 
nature,  whicli  levels  all  differences  of  rank  and  education, 
than  an  acquired  habit  of  rapid  exercise. 

The  repeated  bursts  of  the  French  horn,  which  was  then 
always  used  for  the  encouragement  and  direction  of  the 
hounds ;  the  deep,  though  distant  baying  of  the  pack  ;  the 
half-heard  cries  of  the  huntsmen  ;  the  half-seen  forms  which 
were  discovered,  now  emerging  from  glens  which  crossed  the 
moor,  now  sweeping  over  its  surface,  now  picking  their  way 
where  it  was  impeded  by  morasses  ;  and,  above  all,  the  feel- 
ing of  his  own  rapid  motion,  animated  the  Master  of  Ravens- 
wood,  at  least  for  the  moment,  above  the  recollections  of  a 
more  painful  nature  by  which  he  was  surrounded.  The  first 
thing  which  recalled  him  to  those  unpleasing  circumstances 
was  feeling  that  his  horse,  notwithstanding  all  the  advantages 
which  he  received  from  his  rider's  knowledge  of  the  country, 
was  unable  to  keep  up  with  the  chase.  As  he  drew  his  bridle 
up  with  the  bitter  feeling  that  his  poverty  excluded  him  from 
the  favorite  recreation  of  his  forefathers,  and  indeed  their 
sole  employment  when  not  engaged  in  military  pursuits,  he 
was  accosted  by  a  well-mounted  stranger,  who,  unobserved, 
had  kept  near  him  during  the  earlier  part  of  his  career. 

"  Your  horse  is  blown,"  said  the  man,  with  a  complai- 
sance seldom  used  in  a  hunting-field.  "Might  I  crave  your 
honor  to  make  use  of  mine  ?  " 

"  Sir,"  said  Eavenswood,  more  surprised  than  pleased  at 
such  a  proposal,  "I  really  do  not  know  how  I  have  merited 
such  a  favor  at  a  stranger's  hands." 

"  Never  ask  a  question  about  it.  Master,"  said  Bucklaw, 
who,  with  great  unwillingness,  had  hitherto  reined  in  his  own 
gallant  steed,  not  to  outride  his  host  and  entertainer.  "  Take 
the  goods  the  gods  provide  you,  as  the  great  John  Dryden 
says  ;  or  stay — here,  my  friend,  lend  me  that  horse  ;  I  see 
you  have  been  puzzled  to  rein  him  up  this  half-hour.  I'll 
take  the  devil  out  of  him  for  you.  Now,  Master,  do  you  ride 
mine,  which  will  carry  you  like  an  eagle." 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  87 

And  throwing  the  rein  of  his  own  horse  to  the  Master  of 
Ravenswood,  he  sprang  upon  that  which  the  stranger  resigned 
to  him,  and  continued  his  career  at  full  speed. 

"Was  ever  so  thoughtless  a  being!"  said  the  Master; 
"  and  you,  my  friend,  how  could  you  trust  him  with  your 
horse  ?  " 

"  The  horse/'  said  the  man,  "  belongs  to  a  person  who 
will  make  your  honor,  or  any  of  your  honorable  friends,  most 
welcome  to  him,  flesh  and  fell." 

''  And  the  owner's  name  is ?  "  asked  Ravenswood. 

"  Your  honor  must  excuse  me,  you  will  learn  that  from 
himself.  If  you  please  to  take  your  friend's  horse,  and  leave 
me  your  galloway,  I  will  meet  you  after  the  fall  of  the  stag, 
for  I  hear  they  are  blowing  him  at  bay." 

"  I  believe,  my  friend,  it  will  be  the  best  way  to  recover 
your  good  hor^ie  for  you,"  answered  Ravenswood  ;  and  mount- 
ing the  nag  of  his  friend  Bucklaw,  he  made  all  the  haste  in 
his  power  to  the  spot  where  the  blast  of  the  horn  announced 
that  the  stag's  career  was  nearly  terminated. 

These  jovial  sounds  were  intermixed  with  the  huntsmen's 
shouts  of  ''  Hyke  a  Talbot  !  Hyke  a  Teviot !  now,  boys, 
now  ! "  and  similar  cheering  halloos  of  the  olden  hunting- 
field,  to  which  the  impatient  yelling  of  the  hounds,  now  close 
on  the  object  of  their  pursuit,  gave  a  lively  and  unremitting 
chorus.  The  straggling  riders  began  now  to  rally  towards  the 
scene  of  action,  collecting  from  different  points  as  to  a  com- 
mon centre. 

Bucklaw  kept  the  start  which  he  had  gotten,  and  arrived 
first  at  the  spot,  where  the  stag,  incapable  of  sustaining  a 
more  prolonged  fiight,  had  turned  upon  the  hounds,  and,  in 
the  hunter's  phrase,  was  at  bay.  With  his  stately  head  bent 
down,  his  sides  white  with  foam,  his  eyes  strained  betwixt 
rage  and  terror,  the  hunted  animal  had  now  in  his  turn  be- 
come an  object  of  intimidation  to  his  pursuers.  The  hunters 
came  up  one  by  one,  and  watched  an  opportunity  to  assail 
him  with  some  advantage,  which,  in  such  circumstances,  can 
only  be  done  with  caution.  The  dogs  stood  aloof  and  bayed 
loudly,  intimating  at  once  eagerness  and  fear,  and  each  of 
the  sportsmen  seemed  to  expect  that  his  comrade  would  take 
upon  him  the  perilous  task  of  assaulting  and  disabling  the 
animal.  The  ground,  which  was  a  hollow  in  the  common  or 
moor,  afforded  little  advantage  for  approaching  the  stag  un- 
observed ;  and  general  was  the  shout  of  triumph  when  Buck- 
law,  with  the  dexterity  proper  to  an  accomplished  cavalier  of 
the  day,  sprang  from  his  horse,  and  dashing  suddenly  and 


88  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

swiftly  at  the  stag,  brought  him  to  the  ground  by  a  cut  on 
the  hind  leg  with  his  short  hunting-sword.  The  pack,  rush- 
ing in  upon  their  disabled  enemy,  soon  ended  his  painful 
struggles,  and  solemnized  his  fall  with  their  clamor  ;  the 
hunters,  with  their  horns  and  voices,  whooping  and  blowing 
a  mort,  or  death-note,  which  resounded  far  over  the  billows 
of  the  adjacent  ocean. 

The  huntsman  then  withdrew  the  hounds  from  the  throt- 
tled stag,  and  on  his  knee  presented  his  knife  to  a  fair  female 
form,  on  a  white  palfrey,  whose  terror,  or  perhaps  her  com- 
passion, had  till  then  kept  her  at  some  distance.  She  wore  a 
black  silk  riding-mask,  which  was  then  a  common  fashion,  as 
well  for  preserving  the  complexion  from  sun  and  rain,  as  from 
an  idea  of  decorum,  which  did  not  permit  a  lady  to  appear 
barefaced  while  engaged  in  a  boisterous  sport,  and  attended 
by  a  promiscuous  company.  The  richness  of  her  dress,  how- 
ever, as  Avell  as  the  mettle  and  form  of  her  palfrey,  together 
with  the  sylvan  compliment  paid  to  her  by  the  huntsman, 
jiointed  her  out  to  Bucklaw  as  the  principal  person  in  the 
field.  It  was  not  without  a  feeling  of  pity,  approaching  even 
to  contempt,  that  this  enthusiastic  hunter  observed  her  refuse 
the  huntsman's  knife,  presented  to  her  for  the  purpose  of 
making  the  first  incision  in  the  stag's  breast,  and  thereby  dis- 
covering the  quality  of  the  venison.  He  felt  more  than  half 
inclined  to  pay  his  compliments  to  her  ;  but  it  had  been 
Bucklaw's  misfortune,  that  his  habits  of  life  had  not  rendered 
him  familiarly  acquainted  with  the  higher  and  better  classes 
of  female  society,  so  that,  with  all  his  natural  audacity,  he 
felt  sheepish  and  bashful  when  it  became  necessary  to  address 
a  lady  of  distinction. 

Taking  unto  himself  heart  of  grace  (to  use  his  own  phrase), 
he  did  at  length  summon  up  resolution  enough  to  give  the 
fair  huntress  good  time  of  the  day,  and  trust  that  her  sport 
had  answered  her  expectation.  Her  answer  was  very  courte- 
ously and  modestly  expressed,  and  testified  some  gratitude  to 
the  gallant  cavalier,  whose  exploit  had  terminated  the  chase 
so  adroitly,  when  the  hounds  and  huntsmen  seemed  somewhat 
at  a  stand. 

"  Uds  daggers  and  scabbard,  madam,"  said  Bucklaw, 
rhom  this  observation  brought  at  once  upon  his  own  ground, 
'■*  there  is  no  difficulty  or  merit  in  that  matter  at  all,  so  that 
a  fellow  is  not  too  much  afraid  of  having  a  pair  of  antlers  in 
his  guts.  I  have  hunted  at  force  five  hundred  times,  madam  ; 
and  I  never  yet  saw  the  stag  at  bay,  by  land  or  water,  but 
I  durst  have  gone  roundly  in  on  him.     It  is  all  use  and  wont. 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  89 

madam  ;  and  I'll  tell  you,  madam,  for  all  that,  it  must  be 
done  with  good  heed  and  caution  ;  and  you  will  do  well, 
madam,  to  have  your  hunting-sword  both  right  sharp  and 
double-edged,  that  you  may  strike  either  fore-handed  or 
back-handed,  as  you  see  reason,  for  a  hurt  with  a  buck's  horn 
is  a  perilous  and  somewhat  venomous  matter." 

"I  am  afraid,  sir,"  said  the  young  lady,  and  her  smile  was 
scarce  concealed  by  her  vizard,  "  I  shall  have  little  use  for 
such  careful  preparation." 

"  But  the  gentleman  says  very  right  for  all  that,  my  lady,'* 
said  an  old  huntsman,  wlio  had  listened  toBucklaw's  harangue 
with  no  small  editicatiou  ;  "and  I  have  heard  my  father  say, 
who  was  a  forester  at  the  Cabracli,  that  a  wild  boar's  gaunch. 
is  more  easily  healed  than  a  hurt  f I'om  the  deer's  horn,  for  so 
says  the  old  woodman's  rhyme — 

" '  If  thou  be  hurt  with  horn  of  hart,  it  bi'ings  thee  to  thy  bier  ; 
But  tusk  of  boar  siiall  leeches  heal,  thereof  have  le-s^er  fear.' ' 

"An  I  might  advise,"  continued  Buckiaw,  who  was  now 
in  his  element,  and  desirous  of  assuming  the  whole  manage- 
ment, "as  the  hounds  are  surbated  and  weary,  the  head  of 
the  stag  should  be  cabaged  in  order  to  revvard  them  ;  and  if 
I  may  presume  to  speak,  the  huntsman,  who  is  to  break  up 
the  stag,  ought  to  drink  to  your  good  ladyship's  health  a  good 
lusty  bicker  of  ale,  or  a  tass  of  brandy  ;  for  if  he  breaks  him 
up  without  drinking,  the  venison  will  not  keep  well." 

This  very  agreeable  j)rescription  received,  as  will  be  readily 
believed,  all  acceptation  from  the  huntsman,  who,  in  requital, 
olfered  to  Buckiaw  the  compliment  of  his  knife,  which  the 
young  lady  had  declined. 

This  polite  proffer  was  seconded  by  his  mistress.  "I  be- 
lieve, sir,"  she  said,  withdrawing  herself  from  the  circle, 
"that  my  father,  for  whose  amusement  Lord  Bittlebrains's 
hounds  have  been  out  to-day,  will  readily  surrender  all  care 
of  these  matters  to  a  gentleman  of  your  experience." 

Then,  bending  gracefully  from  her  horse,  she  wished  him 
good-morning,  and,  attended  by  one  or  two  domestics,  who 
seemed  immediately  attached  to  her  service,  retired  from  the 
scene  of  action,  to  which  Buckiaw,  too  much  delighted  with 
an  opportunity  of  displaying  his  woodcraft  to  care  about  man 
or  woman  either,  paid  little  attention  ;  but  was  soon  stripped 
to  his  doublet,  with  tucked-up  sleeves,  and  naked  arms  up  to 
tiie  elbows  in  blood  and  grease,  slashing,  cutting,  hacking, 
and  hewing,  with  the  precision  of  Sir  Tristrem  himself,  and 
wrangling  and  disputing  with   all   around   him   concerning 


90  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

nombles,  briskets,  flankards,  and  raven-bones,  then  usnal 
terms  of  the  art  of  hunting,  or  of  butcliery,  whichever  the 
reader  chooses  to  call  it,  which  are  now  probably  antiquated. 

When  Ravenswood,  who  followed  a  short  space  behind  his 
friend,  saw  that  the  stag  had  fallen,  his  temporary  ardor  for 
the  chase  gave  way  to  that  feeling  of  reluctance  which  he  en- 
dured at  encountering  in  his  fallen  fortunes  the  gaze  whether 
of  equals  or  inferiors.  He  reined  up  his  horse  on  the  top  of 
a  gentle  eminence,  from  wdiich  he  observed  the  busy  and  gay 
scene  beneath  him,  and  heard  the  Avhoops  of  the  huntsmen, 
gayly  mingled  with  the  cry  of  the  dogs,  and  the  neighing  and 
trampling  of  the  horses.  But  these  jovial  sounds  fell  sadly 
on  the  ear  of  the  ruined  nobleman.  The  chase,  with  all  its 
train  of  excitations,  has  ever  since  feudal  times  been  accounted 
the  almost  exclusive  privilege  of  the  aristocracy,  and  was 
anciently  their  chief  employment  in  times  of  peace.  The 
sense  that  he  was  excluded  by  his  situation  from  enjoying 
the  sylvan  sport,  which  his  rank  assigned  to  him  as  a  special 
prerogative,  and  the  feeling  that  new  men  were  now  exercis- 
ing it  over  the  downs  which  had  been  jealously  reserved  by 
his  ancestors  for  their  own  amusement,  while  he,  the  heir  of 
the  domain,  was  fain  to  hold  himself  at  a  distance  from 
their  party,  awakened  reflections  calculated  to  depress  deeply 
a  mind  like  Ra,venswood's,  which  was  naturally  contemplative 
and  melancholy.  His  pride,  however,  soon  shook  off  this 
feeling  of  dejection,  and  it  gave  way  to  impatience  upon 
finding  that  his  volatile  friend  Bucklaw  seemed  in  no  hurry 
to  return  with  his  borrowed  steed,  which  Eavenswood,  before 
leaving  the  field,  wished  to  see  restored  to  the  obliging  owner. 
As  he  was  about  to  move  towards  the  group  of  assembled 
huntsmen,  he  was  joined  by  a  horseman,  who,  like  himself. 
had  kept  aloof  during  the  fall  of  the  deer. 

This  personage  seemed  stricken  in  years.  He  wore  a 
scarlet  cloak,  buttoning  high  upon  his  face,  and  his  hat  was 
uniooped  and  slouched,  probably  by  way  of  defence  against 
the  weather.  His  horse,  a  strong  and  steady  palfrey,  was 
calculated  for  a  rider  who  proposed  to  witness  the  sport  of  the 
day  rather  than  to  share  it.  An  attendant  waited  at  some  dis- 
tance, and  the  whole  equipment  was  that  of  an  elderly  gen- 
tleman of  rank  and  fashion.  He  accosted  Ravenswood  very 
politely,  but  not  without  some  embarrassment. 

"You  seem  a  gallant  young  gentleman,  sir,"  he  said, 
"  and  yet  appear  as  indifferent  to  this  brave  sport  as  if  you 
bad  my  load  of  years  on  your  shoulders. '^ 

' '  I  have  followed  the  sport  with  more  spirit  on  other  0000* 


THE  BRIDE  OF   ^  AMMERMOOR  9i 

sions/'  replied  the  Master;  "at  present,  late  events  in  my 
family  must  be  my  apology  ;  and  besides,"  he  added,  "  i  was 
but  indilferently  mounted  at  the  beginning  of  the  sport." 

"  I  think,"  said  the  stranger,  "one  of  my  attendants  had 
the  sense  to  accommodate  your  friend  with  a  horse." 

"  I  was  much  indebted  to  his  politeness  and  yours,"  replied 
Ravens  wood.  "  My  friend  is  Mr.  Hayston  of  Bucklaw,  whom 
I  dare  say  you  will  be  sure  to  find  in  the  thick  of  the  keenest 
sportsmen.  Ho  will  return  your  servant^s  horse,  and  take  my 
pony  in  exchange  ;  and  will  add,"  he  concluded,  turning  his 
horse's  head  from  the  stranger,  "his  best  acknowledgments 
to  mine  for  the  accommodation." 

The  Master  of  Ravenswood,  having  thus  expressed  him- 
self, began  to  move  homeward,  with  the  manner  of  one  who 
has  taken  leave  of  his  company.  But  the  stranger  was  not 
so  to  be  shaken  off.  He  turned  his  horse  at  the  same  time, 
and  rode  in  the  same  direction,  so  near  to  the  Master  that, 
without  outriding  him,  which  the  formal  civility  of  the  time, 
and  the  respect  due  to  the  stranger's  age  and  recent  civility, 
would  have  rendered  improper,  he  could  not  easily  escape 
from  his  company. 

The  stranger  did  not  long  remain  silent.  "  This,  then," 
he  said,  "  is  the  ancient  Castle  of  Wolf's  Crag,  often  men- 
tioned in  the  Scottish  records,"  looking  to  the  old  tower,  then 
darkening  under  the  influence  of  a  stormy  cloud,  that  formed 
its  background  ;  for  at  the  distance  of  a  short  mile,  the  chase, 
having  been  circuitous,  had  brought  the  hunters  nearly  back 
to  the  point  which  they  had  attained  when  Ravenswood  and 
Bucklaw  had  set  forward  to  join  them. 

Ravenswood  answered  this  observation  with  a  cold  and  dis- 
tant assent. 

"It  was,  as  I  have  heard,"  continued  the  stranger,  una- 
bashed by  his  coldness,  "'  one  of  the  most  early  possessions  of 
the  honorable  family  of  Ravenswood." 

"Their  earliest  possession,"  answered  the  Master,  "and 
probably  their  latest." 

"I — I — I  should  hope  not,  sir,"  answered  the  stranger, 
clearing  his  voice  with  more  than  one  cough,  and  making  an 
effort  to  overcome  a  certain  degree  of  hesitation  ;  "Scotland 
knows  what  she  owes  to  this  ancient  family,  and  remembers 
their  frequent  and  honorable  achievements.  I  have  little 
doubt  that,  were  it  properly  represented  to  her  Majesty  that 
so  ancient  and  noble  a  family  were  subjected  to  dilapidation 
— I  mean  to  decay — means  might  be  found,  ad  re-cBcIificandum 
antiquam  aomum " 


92  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

"1  will  save  you,  the  trouble,  sir,  of  discussing  this  point 
farther,"  interrupted  the  Master,  haughtily.  "  I  am  the  heir 
of  that  unfortunate  house — I  am  the  Master  of  Ravenswood. 
And  you,  sir,  who  seem  to  be  a  gentleman  of  fashion  and 
education,  must  be  sensible  that  the  next  mortification  after 
being  unhappy  is  the  being  loaded  with  undesired  commiser- 
ation." 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  said  the  elder  horseman  ;  "1 
did  not  know — I  am  sensible  I  ought  not  to  have  mentioned 
— nothing  could  be  farther  from  my  thoughts  than  to  sup- 
pose  " 

''There  are  no  apologies  necessary,  sir,"  answered  Ravens- 
wood,  ''for  here,  I  suppose,  our  roads  separate,  and  I  assure 
you  that  we  part  in  perfect  equanimity  on  my  side." 

As  speaking  these  words,  he  directed  his  horse's  head 
towards  a  narrow  causeway,  the  ancient  approach  to  Wolf's 
Crag,  of  which  it  might  be  truly  said,  in  the  words  of  the  Bard 
of  Hope,  that 

Frequented  by  few  was  the  grass-cover'd  road, 
"Where  the  hunter  of  deer  and  the  warrior  trode, 
To  his  hills  that  encircle  the  sea. 

But,  ere  he  could  disengage  himself  from  his  companion,  the 
young  lady  we  have  already  mentioned  came  up  to  join  the 
stranger,  followed  by  her  servants. 

"Daughter,"  said  the  stranger  to  the  masked  damsel, 
"this  is  the  Master  of  Ravenswood." 

It  would  have  been  natural  tliat  the  gentleman  should 
have  replied  to  this  introduction  ;  but  there  was  something 
in  the  graceful  form  and  retiring  modesty  of  the 
female  to  whom  he  was  thus  presented,  which  not  only  pre- 
vented him  from  inquiring  to  Avhom,  and  by  whom,  the  an- 
nunciation had  been  made,  bnt  which  even  for  the  time  struck 
him  absolutely  mute.  At  this  moment  the  cloud  which  had 
long  lowered  above  the  height  on  which  Wolf's  Craig  is  sit- 
uated, and  which  now,  as  it  advanced,  spread  itself  in  darker 
and  denser  folds  both  overland  and  sea,  hiding  the  distant  ob- 
jects and  obscuring  those  which  were  nearer,  turning  the  sea  to 
a  leaden  complexion  and  the  heath  to  a  darker  brown,  began 
now,  by  one  or  two  distant  peals,  to  announce  the  thunders 
with  which  it  was  fraught  ;  while  two  flashes  of  lightning, 
following  each  other  very  closely,  showed  in  the  distance  the 
gray  turrets  of  Wolf's  Crag,  and,  more  nearly,  the  rolling 
billows  of  the  ocean,  crested  suddenly  with  red  and  dazzling 
light. 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  98 

The  horse  of  the  fair  huntress  showed  symptoms  of  im- 
patience and  restiveness,  and  it  became  iin})ossible  for  Ravens- 
wood,  as  a  uian  or  a  gentleman,  to  leave  her  abruptly  to  the 
care  of  an  aged  father  or  her  menial  attendants.  He  was,  or 
believed  himself,  obliged  in  courtesy  to  take  hold  of  her 
bridle,  and  assist  her  in  managing  the  unruly  animal.  While 
he  was  thus  engaged,  the  old  gentleman  observed  that  the 
storm  seemed  to  increase  ;  that  they  were  far  from  Lord 
Bittlebrains's,  whose  guests  they  were  for  the  present  ;  and 
that  he  would  be  obliged  to  the  Master  of  Ilavenswood  to 
point  him  the  way  to  the  nearest  place  of  refuge  from  the 
storm.  At  the  same  time  he  cast  a  wistful  and  embarrassed 
look  towards  the  Tower  of  Wolf's  Crag,  which  seemed  to 
render  it  almost  impossible  for  tlie  owner  to  avoid  offering 
an  old  man  and  a  lady,  in  such  an  emergency,  the  temporary 
use  of  his  house.  Indeed,  the  condition  of  the  young  hunt- 
ress made  this  courtesy  indispensable  ;  for,  in  the  course  of 
the  services  which  he  rendered,  he  could  not  but  perceive 
that  slie  trembled  much,  and  was  extremely  agitated,  from 
her  apprehensions,  doubtless,  of  the  coming  storm. 

I  know  not  if  the  Master  of  Ravenswood  shared  her  ter- 
rors, but  he  was  not  entirely  free  from  something  like  a  simi 
lar  disorder  of  nerves,  as  he  observed,   "  The  Tower  of  Wolf's 
Crag  has  nothing  to  offer  beyond  the  shelter  of  its  roof,  but 

if  that  can  be  acceptable  at  such  a  moment "  he  paused, 

as  if  the  rest  of  the  invitation  stuck  in  his  throat.  But  the 
old  gentleman,  his  self-constituted  companion,  did  not  allow 
him  to  recede  from  the  invitation  which  he  had  rather 
suffered  to  be  implied  than  directly  expressed. 

"'•'  The  storm,"  said  the  stranger,  "  must  be  an  apology  for 
waiving  ceremony ;  his  daughter's  health  was  weak,  she 
had  suffered  much  from  a  recent  alarm  ;  he  trusted  their  in- 
trusion on  the  Master  of  Ravenswood's  hospitality  would  not 
be  altogether  unpardonable  in  the  circumstances  of  the  case  : 
his  child's  safety  must  be  dearer  to  him  than  ceremony." 

Tiiere  was  no  room  to  retreat.  The  Master  of  Ravens- 
wood  led  the  way,  continuing  to  keep  hold  of  the  lady's 
bridle  to  prevent  her  horse  from  starting  at  some  unexpected 
explosion  of  thunder.  He  was  not  so  bewildered  in  his  own 
hurried  reflections  but  .that  he  remarked,  that  the  deadly 
paleness  which  had  occupied  her  neck  and  temples,  and  such 
of  her  features  as  the  riding-mask  left  exposed,  gave  place  to 
a  deep  and  rosy  suffusion  ;  and  he  felt  with  embarrassment 
that  a  flush  was  by  tacit  sympathy  excited  in  his  own  cheeks. 
The  stranger,  with   watchfulness  which  he   disguised   under 


W  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

apprehensions  for  the  safety  of  his  daughter,  continued  tc 
observe  the  expression  of  the  Master's  countenance  as  they 
ascended  the  liill  to  Wolf's  Crag.  When  they  stood  in  front 
of  that  ancient  fortress,,  Kavenswood's  emotions  were  of  a 
very  complicated  description  ;  and  as  he  led  the  way  into  the 
rude  courtyard,  and  hallooed  to  Caleb  to  give  attendance, 
there  was  a  tone  of  sternness,  almost  of  fierceness,  which 
seemed  somewhat  alien  from  the  courtesies  of  one  who  ir 
receiving  honored  guests. 

Caleb  came  ;  and  not  the  paleness  of  the  fair  stranger  at 
the  first  approach  of  the  thunder,  nor  the  paleness  of  any 
other  person,  in  any  other  circumstances  whatever,  equalled 
that  which  overcame  the  thin  cheeks  of  the  disconsolate  sen- 
eschal when  he  beheld  this  accession  of  guests  to  the  castle, 
and  reflected  that  the  dinner  hour  was  fast  approaching. 
"  Is  he  daft?  "he  muttered  to  himself — "is  he  clean  daft 
a'thegither,  to  bring  lords  and  leddies,  and  a  host  of  folk  be- 
hint  them,  and  twal  o'clock  chappit?"  Then  approaching 
the  Master,  he  craved  pardon  for  having  permitted  the  rest 
of  his  people  to  go  out  to  see  the  hunt,  observing,  that 
"  They  wad  never  think  of  his  lordship  coming  back  till  mirk 
night,  and  that  he  dreaded  they  might  play  the  truant.'' 

''Silence,  Balderstone  !"  said  Ravenswood,  sternly  ;  "  your 
folly  is  unseasonable.  Sir  and  madam,"  he  said,  turning  to 
his  guests,  "  this  old  man,  and  a  yet  older  and  more  imbecile 
female  domestic,  form  my  whole  retinue.  Our  means  of 
refreshing  you  are  more  scanty  than  even  so  miserable  a  ret- 
inue, and  a  dwelling  so  dilapidated,  might  seem  to  promise 
you ;  but,  such  as  they  may  chance  to  be,  you  may  command 
them." 

The  elder  stranger,  struck  with  the  ruined  and  even  sav- 
age appearance  of  the  Tower,  rendered  still  more  disconsolate 
by  the  lowering  and  gloomy  sky,  and  perhaps  not  altogether 
unmoved  by  the  grave  and  determined  voice  in  which  their 
host  addressed  them,  looked  round  him  anxiously,  as  if  he 
half  repented  the  readiness  with  which  he  had  accepted  the 
offered  hospitality.  But  there  was  now  no  opportunity  of 
receding  from  the  situation  in  which  he  had  placed  himself. 

As  for  Caleb,  he  was  so  utterly  stunned  by  his  master's 
public  and  unqualified  acknowledgment  of  the  nakedness  of 
the  land,  that  for  two  minutes  he  could  only  mutter  within 
his  hebdomadal  beard,  which  had  not  felt  the  razor  for  six 
days,  "  He's  daft — clean  daft — red  wud,  and  aw  a'  wi't  !  But 
deil  hae  Caleb  Balderstone,"  said  he,  collecting  his  powers  of 
invention  and  resource,  "  if  the  family  shall  lose  credit,  if  he 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  95 

were  as  mad  as  the  seven  wise  masters  ! "  He  then  boldly 
advanced,  and  in  spite  of  his  master's  frowns  and  impatience, 
gravely  asked,  "If  he  should  not  serve  up  some  slight  refec- 
tion for  the  young  leddy,  and  a  glass  of  tokay,  or  old  sack — 
or " 

"  Truce  to  this  ill-timed  foolery,"  said  the  Master,  sternly  ; 
"  put  the  horses  into  the  stable,  and  interrupt  us  no  more 
with  your  absurdities." 

"  Your  honor's  pleasure  is  to  be  obeyed  aboon  a'  things,^* 
tiaid  Caleb  ;  "  nevertheless,  as  for  the  sack  and  tokay  which 
".t  is  not  your  noble  guests'  pleasure  to  accept " 

But  here  the  voice  of  Bucklaw,  heard  even  above  the  clat- 
tering of  hoofs  and  braying  of  horns  with  which  it  mingled. 
Announced  that  he  was  scaling  the  pathway  to  the  Tower  at 
*^he  head  of  the  greater  part  of  the  gallant  hunting  train. 

"The  deil  be  in  me,"  said  Caleb,  taking  heart  in  spite  of 
this  new  invasion  of  Philistines,  "if  they  shall  beat  me  yet  ! 
The  hellicat  ne'er-do-weel  !  to  bring  such  a  crew  here,  that 
will  expect  to  find  brandy  as  plenty  as  ditch-water,  and  he 
kenning  sae  absolutely  the  case  in  whilk  we  stand  for  the 
present !  But  I  trow,  could  I  get  rid  of  thae  gaping  gowks 
of  flunkies  that  hae  won  into  the  courtyard  at  the  back  of 
their  betters,  as  mony  a  man  gets  preferment,  I  could  make 
a'  right  yet." 

The  measures  which  he  took  to  execute  this  dauntless  res- 
olution, the  reader  shall  learn  in  the  next  chapter. 


CHAPTER  X 

With  throat  unslaked,  with  black  lips  baked, 

Agape  they  heard  him  call ; 
Gramercy  they  for  joy  did  grin, 
A.nd  all  at  once  their  breath  drew  in. 

As  they  had  been  drinking  all ! 

Coleridge's  Rime  of  the  Ancient  Mariner, 

Hatston  of  BiTcklaw  was  one  of  the  thoughtless  class  who 
never  hesitate  between  their  friend  and  their  jest.  When  it 
was  announced  that  the  principal  persons  of  the  chase  had 
taken  their  route  to>vards  Wolf's  Crag,  the  huntsmen,  as  a 
point  of  civility,  oiferf^d  to  transfer  the  venison  to  that  man- 
sion ;  a  proifer  which  was  readily  accepted  by  Bucklaw,  who 
thought  much  of  the  astoaishment  which  their  arrival  in  full 
body  would  occasion  poor  old  Caleb  Balderstone,  and  very 
little  of  the  dilemma  to  wnich  he  was  about  to  expose  his 
friend  the  Master,  so  ill  circumstanced  to  receive  such  a 
party.  But  in  old  Caleb  he  iiad  to  do  with  a  crafty  and 
alert  antagonist,  prompt  at  supplying,  upon  all  emergencies, 
evasions  and  excuses  suitable,  as  he  thought,  to  the  dignity 
of  the  family. 

'^  Praise  be  blest ! "  said  Caleb  to  oimself,  "  ae  leaf  of  the 
muckle  gate  has  been  swung  to  wi^  yestreen's  wind,  and  1 
think  I  can  manage  to  shut  the  ither.'* 

But  he  was  desirous,  like  a  prudent  governor,  at  the  samt 
time  to  get  rid,  if  possible,  of  the  internal,  enemy,  in  which 
light  he  considered  almost  every  one  who  Q-ac  and  drank,  ere 
he  took  measures  to  exclude  those  whom  their  jocund  noise 
now  pronounced  to  be  near  at  hand.  He  waited,  therefore, 
with  impatience  until  his  master  had  shown  his  two  principal 
guests  into  the  Tower,  and  then  commenced  his  operations. 

"I  think,"  he  said  to  the  stranger  menials,  "that,  as  they 
are  bringing  the  stag's  head  to  the  castle  in  all  honor,  we, 
who  are  indwellers,  should  receive  them  at  the  gate." 

The  unwary  grooms  had  no  sooner  hurried  out,  in  com- 
pliance with  this  insidious  hint,  than,  one  folding-door  of  the 
ancient  gate  being  already  closed  by  the  wind,  as  has  been 
already  intimated,  honest  Caleb  lost  no  time  in  shutting  the 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  97 

other  with  a  clang,  which  resounded  from  donjon-vault  to 
hattlement.  Having  thus  secured  the  pass,  he  forthwith  in- 
dulged tlie  excluded  huntsmen  in  brief  parley,  fronj  a  small 
projecting  window,  or  shot-hole,  through  which,  in  former 
days,  the  warders  were  Avont  to  reconnoitre  those  who  pre- 
sented themselves  before  the  gates.  He  gave  them  to  under- 
stand, in  a  short  and  pithy  speech,  that  the  gate  of  the  castle 
was  never  on  any  account  opened  during  meal-times  ;  *  that 
his  honor,  the  Master  of  Ravenswood,  and  some  guests  of 
quality,  had  just  sat  down  to  dinner  ;  that  there  was  excellent 
brandy  at  the  hostler-wife's  at  Wolf's  Hope  down  below  ;  and 
he  held  out  some  obscure  hint  that  the  reckoning  would  be 
discharged  by  the  Master ;  but  this  was  littered  in  a  very 
dubious  and  oracular  strain,  for,  like  Louis  XI Y.,  Caleb 
Balderstone  hesitated  to  carry  finesse  so  far  as  direct  false- 
hood, and  was  content  to  deceive,  if  possible,  without  directly 
lying. 

This  annunciation  was  received  with  surprise  by  some, 
with  laughter  by  others,  and  with  dismay  by  the  expelled 
lackeys,  who  endeavored  to  demonstrate  that  their  right  of 
readmission,  for  the  purpose  of  waiting  upon  their  master  and 
mistress,  was  at  least  indisputable.  But  Caleb  was  not  in  a 
huinor  to  understand  or  admit  any  distinctions.  He  stuck  to 
his  original  proposition  with  that  dogged  but  convenient  per- 
tinacity which  is  armed  against  all  conviction,  and  deaf  to  all 
reasoning.  Bucklaw  now  came  from  the  rear  of  the  party, 
and  demanded  admittance  in  a  very  angry  tone.  But  the 
resolution  of  Caleb  was  immovable, 

"  If  the  king  on  the  throne  Avere  at  the  gate,"  he  declared, 
^'his  ten  fingers  should  never  open  it  contrair  to  the  estab- 
lished use  and  wont  of  the  family  of  Ravenswood,  and  his 
duty  as  their  head-servant," 

Bucklaw  was  now  extremely  incensed,  and  with  more  oaths 
and  curses  than  we  care  to  repeat,  declared  himself  most  un- 
wortliily  treated,  and  demanded  peremptorily  to  speak  with  the 
Master  of  Ravenswood  himself. 

But  to  this  also  Caleb  turned  a  deaf  ear,  ''He's  as  soon 
a-bleeze  as  a  tap  of  tow,  the  lad  Bucklaw,"  he  said  ;  "  but  the 
deil  of  ony  master's  face  he  shall  see  till  he  has  sleepit  and 
wakened  on't.  He'll  ken  himsell  better  the  morn's  morning. 
It  sets  the  like  o'  him,  to  be  bringing  a  crew  of  drunken 
hunters  here,  when  he  kens  there  is  but  little  preparation  to 
sloken  his  ain  drought."  And  he  disappeared  from  the  win- 
dow, leaving  them  all  to  digest  their  exclusion  as  they  best 
might. 

*  bee  OUiMui  cuuiti,  !>»*'•  *****  i»*«». 


98  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

But  another  person,  of  whose  presence  Caleb,  in  the  ani- 
mation of  the  debate,  was  not  aware,  had  listened  in  silence 
to  its  progress.  This  was  the  principal  domestic  of  the 
stranger — a  man  of  trust  and  consequence — the  same  who,  in 
the  hunting-field,  had  accommodated  Eucklaw  with  the  use 
of  his  horse.  He  was  in  the  stable  when  Caleb  had  contrived 
the  expulsion  of  his  fellow-servants,  and  thus  avoided  sharing 
the  same  fate,  from  which  his  personal  importance  would  cer- 
tainly not  have  otherwise  saved  him. 

This  personage  perceived  the  manoeuvre  of  Caleb,  easily 
appreciated  the  motive  of  his  conduct,  and  knowing  his  mas- 
ter's intentions  towards  the  family  of  Ravenswood,  had  no 
difficulty  as  to  the  line  of  conduct  he  ought  to  adopt.  He 
took  the  place  of  Caleb  (unperceived  by  the  latter)  at  the  post 
of  audience  which  he  had  just  left,  and  announced  to  tlL> 
assembled  domestics,  "That  it  was  his  master's  pleasure  that 
Lord  Bittlebrains's  retinue  and  his  own  should  go  down  to  the 
adjacent  change-house  and  call  for  what  refreshments  they 
might  have  occasion  for,  and  he  should  take  care  to  discharge 
the  lawing." 

The  jolly  troop  of  huntsmen  retired  from  the  inhospitable 
gate  of  Wolf's  Crag,  execrating,  as  they  descended  the  steep 
pathway,  the  niggard  and  unworthy  disposition  of  the  pro- 
prietor, and  damning,  with  more  than  sylvan  license,  both 
the  castle  and  its  inhabitants.  Bucklaw,  with  many  qualities 
which  would  have  made  him  a  man  of  worth  and  judgment  in 
more  favorable  circumstances,  had  been  so  utterly  neglected 
in  point  of  education,  that  he  was  apt  to  think  and  feel  ac- 
cording to  the  ideas  of  the  companions  of  his  pleasures.  The 
praises  which  had  recently  been  heaped  upon  himself  he  con- 
trasted with  the  general  abuse  now  levelled  against  Eavens- 
wood ;  he  recalled  to  his  mind  the  dull  and  monotonous  days 
he  had  spent  in  the  Tower  of  "Wolf's  Crag,  compared  with  the 
joviality  of  his  usual  life ;  he  felt  with  great  indignation  his 
exclusion  from  the  castle,  which  he  considered  as  a  gross  affront, 
and  every  mingled  feeling  led  him  to  break  off  the  union 
•vhicli  he  had  formed  with  the  Master  of  Eavenswood, 

On  arriving  at  the  change-house  of  the  village  of  Wolf's 
Hope,  he  unexpectedly  met  with  an  old  acquaintance  just 
alighting  from  his  horse.  This  was  no  other  than  the  very 
respectable  Captain  Craigengelt,  who  immediately  came  up  to 
him,  and,  without  appearing  to  retain  any  recollection  of  the 
indifferent  terms  on  which  they  had  parted,  shook  him  by 
the  hand  in  the  warmest  manner  possible.  A  warm  grasp  of 
the  hand  was  what  Bucklaw  could  never  help  returning  with 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  99 

cordiality,  and  no  sooner  had  Craigengelt  felt  the  pressure  of 
his  fingers  than  he  knew  the  terms  on  which  he  stood  with 
him. 

"Long  life  to  you,  Bucklaw!"he  exclaimed;  ^'there's 
life  for  honest  folk  in  this  bad  world  yet !  " 

The  Jacobites  at  this  period,  with  what  propriety  I  know 
not,  used,  it  must  be  noticed,  the  term  of  honest  men  as 
peculiarly  descriptive  of  their  own  party. 

"Ay,  and  for  others  besides,  it  seems,'' answered  Buck- 
law;  "otherways,  how  came  you  to  venture  hither,  noble 
Captain  ?  " 

"  Who — I  ?  I  am  as  free  as  the  wind  at  Martinmas,  that 
pays  neither  land-rent  nor  annual ;  all  is  explained — all  set- 
tled with  the  honest  old  drivellers  yonder  of  Auld  R#ekie. 
Pooh  !  pooh  !  they  dared  not  keep  me  a  week  of  days  in  du- 
rance. A  certain  person  has  better  friends  among  them  than 
you  wot  of,  and  can  serve  a  friend  when  it  is  least  likely." 

"Pshaw!"  answered  Hayston,  who  perfectly  knew  and 
thoroughly  despised  the  character  of  this  man,  "none  of  your 
cogging  gibberish  ;  tell  me  truly,  are  you  at  liberty  and  in 
safety  ?" 

"  Free  and  safe  as  a  Whig  bailie  on  the  causeway  of  his 
OAvn  borough,  or  a  canting  Presbyterian  minister  in  his  own 
pulpit ;  and  I  came  to  tell  you  that  you  need  not  remain  in 
hiding  any  longer." 

"Then  I  suppose  you  call  yourself  my  friend.  Captain 
Craigengelt  ?  "  said  Bucklaw. 

"Friend!"  replied  Craigengelt,  "my  cock  of  the  pit! 
why,  I  am  thy  very  Achates,  man,  as  T  have  heard  scholars 
say — hand  and  glove — bark  and  tree — thine  to  life  and 
death!" 

"I'll  try  that  in  a  moment,"  answered  Bucklaw.  "Thou 
art  never  without  money,  however  thou  comest  by  it.  Lend 
me  two  pieces  to  wash  the  dust  out  of  these  honest  fellows' 

throats  in  the  first  place,  and  then " 

"  Two  pieces  !  Twenty  are  at  thy  service,  my  lad,  and 
twenty  to  back  them." 

"  Ay,  say  you  so  ? "  said  Bucklaw,  pausing,  for  his 
natural  penetration  led  him  to  suspect  some  extraordinary 
motive  lay  couched  under  such  an  excess  of  generosity. 
"  Craigengelt,  you  are  either  an  lionest  fellow  in  right  good 
earnest,  and  I  scarce  know  how  to  believe  that  ;  or  you  are 
cleverer  than  I  took  you  for,  and  I  scarce  know  how  to  be- 
lieve that  either." 

"L'nn  n'empeche pas  ravfrr/'sald  Craigengelt.  "Touch 
and  try ;  the  gold  is  good  as  ever  was  weighed." 


100  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

He  put  a  quantity  of  gold  pieces  into  Bucklaw's  hand, 
which  he  thrust  into  his  pocket  without  either  counting  or 
looking  at  them,  only  observing,  ' '  That  he  was  so  circum- 
stanced that  he  must  enlist,  though  the  devil  offered  the 
press-money  ; "  and  then  turning  to  the  huntsmen,  he  called 
out,  "  Come  along,  my  lads  ;  all  is  at  my  cost." 

"  Long  life  to  Bucklaw  !"  shouted  the  men  of  the  chase. 

"  And  confusion  to  him  that  takes  his  share  of  the  sport, 
and  leaves  the  hunters  as  dry  as  a  drumhead,"  added  another, 
by  way  of  corollary. 

•^^The  house  of  Eavenswood  was  ance  a  gude  and  an  honor- 
able house  in  this  land,"  said  an  old  man  ;  '•  but  it's  lost  its 
credit  this  day,  and  the  Master  has  shown  himself  no  better 
than  a  greedy  cullion." 

And  with  this  conclusion,  which  was  unanimously  agreed 
to  by  all  who  heard  it,  they  rushed  tumultuously  into  the 
house  of  entertainment,  where  they  revelled  till  a  late  hour. 
The  jovial  temper  of  Bucklaw  seldom  permitted  him  to  be 
nice  in  the  choice  of  his  associates  ;  and  on  the  present  occa- 
sion, when  his  joyous  debauch  received  additional  zest  from 
the  intervention  of  an  unusual  space  of  sobriety,  and  almost 
abstinence,  he  was  as  happy  in  leading  the  revels  as  if  his 
comrades  had  been  sons  of  princes.  Craigengelt  had  his  own 
purposes  in  fooling  him  up  to  the  top  of  his  bent  ;  and  hav- 
ing some  low  humor,  much  impudence,  and  the  power  of 
singing  a  good  song,  understanding  besides  thoroughly  the 
disposition  of  his  regained  associate,  he  readily  succeeded  in 
involving  him  bumper-deep  in  the  festivity  of  the  meeting. 

A  very  different  scene  was  in  the  mean  time  passing  in  the 
Tower  of  Wolf's  Crag.  When  the  Master  of  Eavenswood  left 
the  courtyard,  too  much  busied  Avith  his  own  perplexed  reflec- 
tions to  pay  attention  to  the  manoeuvre  of  Caleb,  he  ushered 
his  guests  into  the  great  hall  of  the  castle. 

The  indefatigable  Balderstone,  who,  from  choice  or  habit, 
worked  on  from  morning  to  night,  had  by  degrees  cleared  this 
desolate  apartment  of  the  confused  relics  of  the  funeral  ban- 
quet, and  restored  it  to  some  order.  But  not  all  his  skill  and 
labor,  in  disposing  to  advantage  the  little  furniture  which 
remained,  could  remove  the  dark  and  disconsolate  appearance 
of  those  ancient  and  disfurnished  walls.  The  narrow  win- 
dows, flanked  by  deep  indentures  into  the  wall,  seemed  formed 
rather  to  exclude  than  to  admit  the  ch'eerful  light ;  and  the 
heavy  and  gloomy  appearance  of  the  thunder-sky  added  still 
farther  to  the  obscurity. 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LA3IMERM00R  101 

As  Ravenswood,  with  the  grace  of  a  gallant  of  that  period, 
but  not  without  a  certain  stiffness  and  embarrassment  of 
manner,  handed  the  young  lady  to  the  upper  end  of  the  apart- 
ment, her  fattier  remained  standing  more  near  to  the  door,  as 
if  about  to  disengage  himself  from  his  hat  and  cloak.  At 
this  moment  the  clang  of  the  portal  was  heard,  a  sound  at 
which  the  stranger  started,  stepped  hastily  to  the  window, 
and  looked  with  an  air  of  alarm  at  Ravenswood,  when  he  saw 
that  the  gate  of  the  court  was  shut,  and  his  domestics  ex- 
cluded, 

"  You  have  nothing  to  fear,  sir,"  said  Ravenswood,  gravely  ; 
"  this  roof  retains  the  means  of  giving  protection,  though  not 
welcome.  Methinks,"  he  added,  "it  is  time  that  I  should 
know  who  they  are  that  have  thus  highly  honored  my  ruined 
dwelling  ! " 

The  young  lady  remained  silent  and  motionless,  and  the 
father,  to  whom  the  question  was  more  directly  addressed, 
seemed  in  the  situation  of  a  performer  who  has  ventured  to 
take  upon  himself  a  part  which  he  finds  himself  unable  to 
present,  and  who  comes  to  a  pause  when  it  is  most  to  be  ex- 
pected that  he  should  speak.  While  he  endeavored  to  cover 
his  embarrassment  with  the  exterior  ceremonials  of  a  well- 
bred  demeanor,  it  was  obvious  that,  in  making  his  bow,  one 
foot  shuffled  forward,  as  if  to  advance,  the  other  backward, 
as  if  with  the  purpose  of  escape  ;  and  as  he  undid  the  cape  of 
his  coat,  and  raised  his  beaver  from  his  face,  his  fingers 
fumbled  as  if  the  one  had  been  linked  with  rusted  iron  or  the 
other  had  weighed  equal  with  a  stone  of  lead.  The  darkness 
of  the  sky  seemed  to  increase,  as  if  to  supply  the  want  of  those 
mufflings  which  he  laid  aside  with  such  evident  reluctance. 
The  impatience  of  Ravenswood  increased  also  in  proportion 
to  the  delay  of  the  stranger,  and  he  appeared  to  struggle  under 
agitation,  though  probably  from  a  very  different  cause.  He 
labored  to  restrain  his  desire  to  speak,  while  the  stranger,  to 
all  appearance,  was  at  a  loss  for  words  to  express  what  he  felt 
it  necessary  to  say. 

At  lengtii  Ravenswood's  impatience  broke  the  bounds  he 
had  imposed  upon  it,  "I  perceive,"  he  said,  "that  Sir 
William  Ashton  is  unwilling  to  announce  himself  in  the  Cas- 
tle of  Wolf's  Crag," 

"I  had  hoped  it  was  unnecessary," said  the  Lord  Keeper, 
relieved  from  his  silence,  as  a  spectre  by  the  voice  of  the 
exorcist;  "and  I  am  obliged  to  you,  Master  of  Ravenswood, 
for  breaking  the  ice  at  once,  where  circumstances — imhappy 
circumstances,  let  me  call  them — ^rendered  self-introduction 
peculiarly  awkward." 


102  W AVE  RLE  Y  NOVELS 

*'  And  I  am  not  then,"  said  the  Master  of  Kavenswood, 
gravely,  ''to  consider  the  honor  of  this  visit  as  purely  acci- 
dental ?  " 

''Let  us  distinguish  a  little,"  said  the  Keeper,  assuming 
an  appearance  of  ease  which  perhaps  his  heart  was  a  stranger 
to ;  "this  is  an  honor  which  I  have  eagerly  desired  for  some 
time,  but  which  I  might  never  have  obtained,  save  for  the 
accident  of  the  storm.  My  daughter  and  I  are  alike  grateful 
for  this  opportunity  of  thanking  the  brave  man  to  whom  she 
owes  her  life  and  I  mine. " 

The  hatred  which  divided  the  great  families  in  the  feudal 
times  had  lost  little  of  its  bitterness,  though  it  no  longer  ex- 
pressed itself  in  deeds  of  open  violence.  Not  the  feelings 
which  Eavenswood  had  begun  to  entertain  towards  Lucy 
Ashton,  not  the  hospitality  due  to  his  guests,  were  able 
entirely  to  subdue,  though  they  warmly  combated,  the  deep 
passions  which  arose  within  him  at  beholding  his  father's  foe 
standing  in  the  hall  of  the  family  of  which  he  had  in  a  great 
measure  accelerated  the  ruin.  His  looks  glanced  from  the 
father  to  the  daughter  with  an  irresolution  of  which  Sir 
William  Ashton  did  not  think  it  proper  to  await  the  conclu- 
eion.  He  had  now  disembarrassed  himself  of  his  riding- 
dress,  and  walking  up  to  his  daughter,  he  undid  the  fasten- 
ing of  her  mask. 

"  Lucy,  my  love,"  he  said,  raising  her  and  leading  her 
towards  Eavenswood,  "  lay  aside  your  mask,  and  let  us  ex- 
press our  gratitude  to  the  Master  openly  and  barefaced." 

"If  he  will  condescend  to  accept  it,"  was  all  that  Lucy 
uttered ;  but  in  a  tone  so  sweetly  modulated,  and  which 
seemed  to  imply  at  once  a  feeling  and  a  forgiving  of  the  cold 
reception  to  which  they  were  exposed,  that,  coming  from  a 
creature  so  innocent  and  so  beautiful,  her  words  cut  Eavens- 
wood to  the  very  heart  ior  his  harshness.  He  muttered 
something  of  surprise,  something  of  confusion,  and,  ending 
with  a  warm  and  eager  expression  of  his  happiness  at  being 
able  to  afford  her  shelter  under  his  roof,  he  saluted  her,  as 
the  ceremonial  of  the  time  enjoined  upon  such  occasions. 
Their  cheeks  had  touched  and  were  withdrawn  from  each 
other ;  Eavenswood  had  not  quitted  the  hand  which  he  had 
taken  in  kindly  courtesy  ;  a  blush,  which  attached  more  con- 
sequence by  far  than  was  usual  to  such  ceremony,  still 
mantled  on  Lucy  Ashton's  beautiful  cheek,  when  the  apart- 
ment was  suddenly  illuminated  by  a  flash  of  lightning,  which 
seemed  absolutely  to  swallow  the  darkness  of  the  hall.  Every 
object  might  have  been  for  an  instant  seen  distinctly.     The 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  103 

slight  and  half-sinking  form  of  Lucy  Ashton  ;  the  well-pro- 
portioned and  stately  tigiire  of  Eavenswood,  his  dark  features, 
and  the  flery  yet  irresolute  expression  of  his  eyes  ;  the  old 
arms  and  scutcheons  which  hung  on  the  walls  of  the  apart- 
ment, were  for  an  instant  distinctly  visible  to  the  Keeper  by 
a  strong  red  brilliant  glare  of  light.  Its  disappearance  was 
almost  instantly  followed  by  a  burst  of  thunder,  for  the 
storm-cloud  was  very  near  the  castle ;  and  the  peal  was  so 
sudden  and  dreadful,  that  the  old  tower  rocked  to  its  founda- 
tion, and  every  inmate  concluded  it  was  falling  upon  them. 
The  soot,  which  had  not  been  disturbed  for  centuries,  show- 
ered down  the  huge  tunnelled  chimneys ;  lime  and  dust  flew 
in  clouds  from  the  wall ;  and,  whether  the  lightning  had 
actually  struck  the  castle  or  whether  through  the  violent 
concussion  of  the  air,  several  heavy  stones  were  hurled  from 
the  mouldering  battlements  into  the  roaring  sea  beneath.  It 
might  seem  as  if  the  ancient  founder  of  the  castle  were  be- 
striding the  thunderstorm,  and  proclaiming  his  displeasure  at 
the  reconciliation  of  his  descendant  with  the  enemy  of  his 
house. 

The  consternation  was  general,  and  it  required  the  efforts 
of  both  the  Lord  Keeper  and  Eavenswood  to  keep  Lucy  from 
fainting.  Thus  was  the  Master  a  second  time  engaged  in  the 
most  delicate  and  dangerous  of  all  tasks,  that  of  affording 
support  and  assistance  to  a  beautiful  and  hel^iless  being,  who, 
as  seen  before  in  a  similar  situation,  had  already  become  a 
favorite  of  his  imagination,  both  when  awake  and  when 
slumbering.  If  the  genius  of  the  house  really  condemned  a 
union  betwixt  the  Master  and  his  fair  guest,  the  means  by 
which  he  expressed  his  sentiments  were  as  unhappily  chosen 
as  if  he  had  been  a  mere  mortal.  The  train  of  little  atten- 
tions, absolutely  necessary  to  soothe  the  young  lady's  mind, 
and  aid  her  in  composing  i.  x  spirits,  necessarily  threw  the 
Master  of  Eavenswood  into  such  an  intercourse  with  her 
father  as  was  calculated,  for  the  moment  at  least,  to  break 
down  the  barrier  of  feudal  enmity  whicli  divided  them.  To 
express  liimself  churlishly,  or  even  coldly,  towards  an  old 
man  whose  daughter  (and  such  a  daughter)  lay  before  them, 
overpowered  with  natural  terror — and  all  this  under  his  own 
roof — tlie  thing  was  imj^ossible  ;  and  by  the  time  that  Lucy, 
extending  a  hand  to  each,  was  able  to  thank  them  for  their 
kindness,  the  Master  felt  that  his  sentiments  of  hostility 
towards  the  Lord  Keeper  were  by  no  means  those  most  pre- 
dominant in  his  bosom. 

The  weather,  her  state  of  health,  the  absence  of  her  at- 


104  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

tendants,  all  prevented  the  possibility  of  Lncy  Ashton  renew- 
ing her  journey  to  Bittlebrains  House,  which  was  full  five 
miles  distant ;  and  the  Master  of  Ravenswood  could  not  but, 
in  common  courtesy,  offer  the  shelter  of  his  roof  for  the  rest 
of  the  day  and  for  the  night.  But  a  flush  of  less  soft  expres- 
sion, a  look  much  more  habitual  to  his  features,  resumed  pre- 
dominance when  he  mentioned  how  meanly  he  was  provided 
for  the  entertainment  of  his  guests. 

"  Do  not  mention  deficiencies,"  said  the  Lord  Keeper, 
eager  to  interrupt  him  and  prevent  his  resuming  an  alarming 
topic  ;  ''you  are  preparing  to  set  out  for  the  Continent,  and 
your  house  is  probably  for  the  present  unfurnished.  All  this 
we  understand  ;  but  if  you  mention  inconvenience,  you  will 
oblige  us  to  seek  accommodations  in  the  hamlet." 

As  the  Master  of  Ravenswood  was  about  to  reply,  the  door 
of  the  hall  opened,  and  Caleb  Balderstone  rushed  in. 


CHAPTER  XI 

Let  them  hare  meat  enough,  woman — half  a  hen ; 
There  be  old  rotten  pilchards — put  them  off  too  ; 
'Tis  but  a  little  new  anointing  of  them, 
And  a  strong  onion,  that  confounds  the  savor. 

Love's  Pilgrimage. 

The  thunderbolt,  which  had  stunned  all  who  were  within 
hearing  of  it,  had  only  served  to  awaken  the  bold  and  invent- 
ive genius  of  the  flower  of  majors-domo.  Almost  before  the 
clatter  had  ceased,  and  while  there  was  yet  scarce  an  assur- 
ance Avhether  the  castle  was  standing  or  falling,  Caleb  ex- 
claimed, "Heavens  be  praised  !  this  comes  to  hand  like  the 
boul  of  a  pint-stoup."  He  then  barred  the  kitchen  door  in 
the  face  of  the  Lord  Keeper's  servant,  whom  he  perceived 
returning  from  the  party  at  the  gate,  and  nmttering,  "  How 
the  deil  cam  he  in  ? — but  deil  may  care.  Mysie,  what  are  ye 
sitting  shaking  and  greeting  in  the  chimney-neuk  for  ? 
Come  here — or  stay  where  ye  are,  and  skirl  as  loud  as  ye  can  ; 
it's  a'  ye're  gude  for.  I  say,  ye  auld  deevil,  skirl — skirl — 
louder — louder,  woman  ;  gar  the  gentles  hear  ye  in  the  ha'. 
I  have  heard  ye  as  far  off  as  the  Bass  for  a  less  matter.  And 
stay — down  wi'  that  crockery " 

And  with  a  sweeping  blow,  he  threw  down  from  a  shelf 
some  articles  of  pewter  and  earthenware.  He  exalted  his 
voice  amid  the  clatter,  shouting  and  roaring  in  a  manner 
which  changed  Mysie's  hysterical  terrors  of  the  thunder  into 
fears  that  her  old  fellow-servant  was  gone  distracted.  ''He 
has  dung  down  a'  the  bits  o'  pigs,  too — the  only  thing  we  had 
left  to  baud  a  soup  milk — and  he  has  spilled  the  hatted  kit  that 
was  for  the  Master's  dinner.  Mercy  save  us,  the  auld  man's 
gaen  clean  and  clear  wud  wi'  the  thunner !" 

''Hand  your  tongue,  ye  b !"  said  Caleb,  in  the  im- 
petuous and  overbearing  triumph  of  successful  invention, 
"  a's  provided  now — dinner  and  a'thing ;  the  thunner's  done 
a'  in  a  clap  of  a  hand  ! " 

"  Puir  man,  he's  muckle  astray,"  said  Mysie,  looking  at 
him  with  a  mixture  of  pity  and  alarm ;  "  I  wish  he  may  ever 
come  harae  to  himsell  again." 


106  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

"  Here,  ye  auld  doited  deevil/'  said  Caleb,  still  exulting  in 
his  extrication  from  a  dilemma  which  had  seemed  insurmount- 
able ;  "  keep  the  strange  man  out  of  the  kitchen  ;  swear  the 
thunner  came  down  the  chimney  and  spoiled  the  best  dinner 
ye  ever  dressed — beef — bacon — kid — lark — leveret — wild-fowl 
— venison,  and  what-not.  Lay  it  on  thick,  and  never  mind 
expenses,  I'll  awa'  ujJ  to  the  ha'.  Make  a'  the  confusion  ye 
can ;  but  be  sure  ye  keep  out  the  strange  servant," 

With  these  charges  to  his  ally,  Caleb  posted  up  to  the  hall, 
but  stopping  to  reconnoitre  through  an  aperture,  which  time, 
for  the  convenience  of  many  a  domestic  in  succession,  had 
made  in  the  door,  and  perceiving  the  situation  of  Miss  Ash- 
ton,  he  had  prudence  enough  to  make  a  pause,  both  to  avoid 
adding  to  her  alarm  and  in  order  to  secure  attention  to  his 
account  of  the  disastrous  effects  of  the  thunder. 

But  when  he  perceived  that  the  lady  was  recovered,  and 
heard  the  conversation  turn  upon  the  accommodation  and  re- 
freshment which  the  castle  afforded,  he  thought  it  time  to 
burst  into  the  room  in  the  manner  announced  in  the  last 
chapter, 

"  Willawins  ! — willawins  !  Such  a  misfortune  to  befa"  the 
house  of  Ravenswood,  and  I  to  live  to  see  it." 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Caleb  ?"  said  his  master,  somewhat 
alarmed  in  his  turn  ;  ' '  has  any  part  of  the  castle  fallen  ?  " 

"  Castle  fa'an  !  na,  but  the  sute's  fa'an,  and  the  thunner's 
come  right  down  the  kitchen-lum,  and  the  things  are  a'  lying 
here  awa',  there  awa',  like  tlie  Laird  o'  Hotchf)otch's  lands  ; 
and  wi'  brave  guests  of  honor  and  quality  to  entertain  [a  low 
bow  here  to  Sir  William  Ashton  and  his  daughter],  and  nae- 
thing  left  in  the  house  fit  to  present  for  dinner,  or  for  supper 
either,  for  aught  that  I  can  see  ! " 

'•I  verily  believe  you,  Caleb,"  said  Eavenswood,  dryly. 

Balderstone  here  turned  to  his  master  a  half-upbraiding, 
half-imploring  countenance,  and  edged  towards  him  as  he  re- 
peated, "It  was  nae  great  matter  of  preparation;  but  just 
something  added  to  your  honor's  ordinary  course  of  fare — 
pettii  cover,  as  they  say  at  the  Louvre — three  courses  and  the 
fruit." 

"Keep  your  intolerable  nonsense  to  yourself,  you  old 
fool ! "  said  Ravenswood,  mortified  at  his  officiousness,  yet  not 
knowing  how  to  contradict  him,  without  the  risk  of  giving 
rise  to  scenes  yet  more  ridiculous, 

Caleb  saw  his  advantage,  and  resolved  to  improve  it.  But 
first,  observing  that  the  Lord  Keeper's  servant  entered  the 
apartment  and  spoke  apurt  vrith  his  master,  he  took  the  same 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  107 

opportunity  to  whisper  a  few  words  into  Ravenswood's  ear — 
"  Hand  your  tongue,  for  heaven ^s  sake,  sir  ;  if  it's  my  pleasure 
to  hazard  my  soul  in  telling  lees  for  the  honor  of  the  family, 
it's  nae  business  o'  yours  ;  and  if  ye  let  me  gang  on  quietly, 
I'se  be  moderate  in  my  banquet ;  but  if  ye  contradict  me,  deil 
but  I  dress  }e  a  dinner  fit  for  a  duke  ! " 

Ravenswood,  in  fact,  thought  it  would  be  best  to  let  his 
officious  butler  run  on,  who  proceeded  to  enumerate  upon  his 
fingers — '*  No  muckle  provision — might  hae  served  four  per- 
sons of  honor, — first  course,  capons  in  white  broth — roast 
kid — bacon  with  reverence ;  second  course,  roasted  leveret — 
butter  crabs — a  veal  florentine  ;  third  course,  blackcock — it's 
black  eneugh  now  wi'  the  sute — plumdamas — a  tart — a  flam — 
and  some  nonsense  sweet  things,  and  comfits — and  that's  a','* 
he  said,  seeing  the  impatience  of  his  master — ''that's  just  a' 
was  o't — forbye  the  apples  and  pears." 

Miss  Ashton  had  by  degrees  gathered  her  spirits,  so  far  as 
to  pay  some  attention  to  what  was  going  on ;  and  observing 
the  strained  impatience  of  Ravenswood,  contrasted  with  the 
peculiar  determination  of  manner  with  which  Caleb  de- 
tailed his  imaginary  banquet,  the  whole  struck  her  as  so 
ridiculous  that,  despite  every  effort  to  the  contrary,  she  burst 
into  a  fit  of  incontrollable  laughter,  in  which  she  was  joined 
by  her  father,  though  with  more  moderation,  and  finally  by 
the  Master  of  Ravenswood  himself,  though  conscious  that  the 
jest  was  at  his  own  expense.  Their  mirth — for  a  scene  which 
we  read  with  little  emotion  often  appears  extremely  ludicrous 
to  the  spectators — made  the  old  vault  ring  again.  They 
ceased — they  renewed — they  ceased — they  renewed  again  their 
shouts  of  laughter  !  Caleb,  in  the  mean  time,  stood  his  ground 
with  a  grave,  angry,  and  scornful  dignity,  which  greatly  en- 
hanced the  ridicule  of  the  scene  and  the  mirth  of  the  specta- 
tors. 

At  length,  when  the  voices,  and  nearly  the  strength,  of 
the  laughers  were  exhausted,  he  exclaimed,  with  very  little 
ceremony,  "  The  deil's  in  the  gentles  !  they  breakfast  sae 
lordly,  that  the  loss  of  the  best  dinner  ever  cook  pat  fingers 
to  makes  them  as  merry  as  if  it  were  the  best  jeest  in  a'  George 
Buchanan.*  If  there  was  as  little  in  your  honors' wames  as 
there  is  in  Caleb  Baklerstone's,  less  caickling  wad  serve  ye  on 
sic  a  gravamiuous  subject." 

Caleb's  blunt  expression  of  resentment  again  awakened 
the  mirth  of  the  company,  which,  by  the  way,  he  regarded  not 
only  as  an  aggression  upon  the  dignity  of  tlie  family,  but  a 

*See  George  Buchanan's  Jests.    Note  -1. 


108  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

special  contempt  of  the  eloquence  with  which  he  himself  had 
summed  up  the  extent  of  their  supposed  losses.  "A  descrip- 
tion of  a  dinner,"  as  he  said  afterwards  to  Mysie,  "that  wad 
hae  made  a  fu'  man  hungry,  and  them  to  sit  there  laughing 
at  it ! " 

"  But,"  said  Miss  Ashton,  composing  her  countenance  as 
ivell  as  she  could,  "  are  all  these  delicacies  so  totally  destroyed 
that  no  scrap  can  be  collected  ?" 

"  Collected,  myleddy  !  what  wad  ye  collect  out  of  the  sute 
and  the  ass  ?  Ye  may  gang  down  yoursell,  and  look  into  our 
kitchen — the  cookmaid  in  the  trembling  exies — the  gude 
vivers  lying  a' about — beef,  capons,  and  white  broth — florentine 
and  flams — bacon  wi'  reverence — and  a'  the  sweet  confections 
and  whim-whams — ye'll  see  them  a',  my  leddy — that  is,"  said 
he,  correcting  himself,  "  ye'll  no  see  ony  of  them  now,  for  the 
cook  has  soopit  them  uj),  as  was  weel  her  part ;  but  ye'll  see 
the  white  broth  where  it  was  spilt.  I  pat  my  fingers  in  it, 
and  it  tastes  as  like  sour  milk  as  ony  thing  else  ;  if  that  isna 
the  effect  of  thunner,  I  kenna  what  is.  This  gentleman  here 
couldna  but  hear  the  clash  of  our  haill  dishes,  china  and  sil- 
ver thegither  ?  " 

The  Lord  Keeper's  domestic,  though  a  statesman's  atten- 
dant, and  of  course  trained  to  command  his  countenance  upon 
all  occasions,  was  somewhat  discomposed  by  this  appeal,  to 
which  he  only  answered  by  a  bow. 

"  I  think,  Mr.  Butler,"  said  the  Lord  Keeper,  who  began 
to  be  afraid  lest  the  prolongation  of  this  scene  should  at  length 
displease  Eavenswood — "I  think  that,  were  you  to  retire  with 
my  servant  Lockhard — he  has  travelled,  and  is  quite  accus- 
tomed to  accidents  and  contingencies  of  every  kind,  and  I 
hope  betwixt  you,  you  may  find  out  some  mode  of  supply  at 
this  emergency." 

"  His  honor  kens,"  said  Caleb,  who,  however  hopeless  of 
himself  of  accomplishing  what  was  desirable,  would,  like  the 
high-spirited  elephant,  rather  have  died  in  the  effort  than 
brooked  the  aid  of  a  brother  in  commission — "his  honor  kens 
weel  I  need  nae  counsellor,  when  the  honor  of  the  house  is 
concerned." 

"  I  should  be  unjust  if  I  denied  it,  Caleb,"  said  his  master  ; 
"  but  your  art  lies  chiefly  in  making  apologies,  upon  which 
we  can  no  more  dine  than  upon  the  bill  of  fare  of  our  thunder- 
blasted  dinner.  Now,  possibly  Mr.  Lockhard's  talent  may 
consist  in  finding  some  substitute  for  that  which  certainly  is 
not,  and  has  in  all  probability  never  been." 

"  Your  honor  is  pleased  to  be  facetious,"  said  Caleb,  "  but 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  104 

I  am  sure  that,  for  the  warst,  for  a  walk  as  far  as  Wolf's 
Hope,  I  could  dine  forty  men — no  that  the  folk  there  deserve 
your  honor's  custom.  They  hae  been  ill  advised  in  the  matter 
of  the  duty  eggs  and  butter,  I  winna  deny  that." 

'^Dogo  consult  together,"  said  the  Master;  "go  down 
to  the  village,  and  do  the  best  you  can.  We  must  not  let  our 
guests  remain  without  refreshment,  to  save  the  honor  of  a 
ruined  family.  And  here,  Caleb,  take  my  purse ;  I  believe 
that  will  prove  your  best  ally." 

''  Purse  !  purse,  indeed  !  "  quoth  Caleb,  indignantly  fling- 
ing out  of  the  room  ;  "  what  suld  I  do  wi'  your  honor's  purse, 
on  your  ain  grund  ?     I  trust  we  are  no  to  pay  for  our  ain  ?  " 

The  servants  left  the  hall  ;  and  the  door  was  no  sooner  shut 
than  the  Lord  Keeper  began  to  apologize  for  the  rudeness  of 
his  mirth  ;  and  Lucy  to  hope  she  had  given  no  pain  or  of' 
fence  to  the  kind-hearted  faithful  old  man. 

"  Caleb  and  I  must  both  learn,  madam,  to  undergo  with 
good  humor,  or  at  least  with  patience,  the  ridicule  which 
everywhere  attaches  itself  to  poverty." 

"You  do  yourself  injustice.  Master  of  Ravenswood,  on 
my  word  of  honor,"  answered  his  elder  guest.  "I  believe  I 
know  more  of  your  affairs  than  you  do  yourself,  and  I  hope 
to  show  you  that  I  am  interested  in  them  ;  and  that — in 
short,  that  your  prospects  are  better  than  you  apprehend.  In 
the  mean  time,  I  can  conceive  nothing  so  respectable  as  the 
spirit  which  rises  above  misfortune,  and  prefers  honorable 
privations  to  debt  or  dependence." 

Whether  from  fear  of  offending  the  delicacy  or  awakening 
the  pride  of  the  Master,  the  Lord  Keeper  made  these  allu- 
sions with  an  appearance  of  fearful  and  hesitating  reserve, 
and  seemed  to  be  afraid  that  he  was  intruding  too  far,  in  ven- 
turing to  touch,  however  lightly,  upon  such  a  topic,  even 
when  the  Master  had  led  to  it.  In  short,  he  appeared  at  once 
pushed  on  by  his  desire  of  appearing  friendly,  and  held  back 
by  the  fear  of  intrusion.  It  was  no  wonder  that,  the  Master 
of  Ravenswood,  little  acquainted  as  he  then  was  witli  life, 
should  have  given  tliis  consummate  covirtier  credit  for  more 
sincerity  than  was  probably  to  be  found  in  a  score  of  his  cast. 
He  answered,  however,  with  reserve,  that  he  was  indebted  to 
all  who  might  think  well  of  him ;  and,  apologizing  to  his 
guests,  he  left  the  hall,  in  order  to  maka  sucii  arrangements 
for  their  entertainment  as  circumstances  admitted. 

Upon  consulting  with  old  Mysie,  the  accommodations  for 
the  night  were  easily  completed,  as  indeed  they  admitted  of 
little  choice.     Tlie  Master  surrendered  his  apartment  for  the 


110  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

use  of  Miss  Ashton,  and  Mysie,  once  a  person  of  consequence, 
dressed  in  a  black  satin  gown  which  had  belonged  of  yore  to 
the  Master's  grand motlier,  and  had  figured  in  the  court-balls 
of  Henrietta  Maria,  went  to  attend  her  as  lady's-maid.  He 
next  inquired  after  Bucklaw,  and  understanding  he  was  at 
the  change-house  with  the  huntsmen  and  some  companions, 
he  desired  Caleb  to  call  there,  and  acquaint  him  how  he  was 
circumstanced  at  Wolf's  Crag ;  to  intimate  to  him  that  it 
would  be  most  convenient  if  he  could  find  a  bed  in  the  ham- 
let, as  the  elder  guest  must  necessarily  be  quartered  in  the 
secret  chamber,  the  only  spare  bedroom  which  could  be 
made  fit  to  receive  him.  The  Master  saw  no  hardship  in 
passing  the  night  by  the  hall  fire,  wrapped  in  his  campaign- 
cloak  ;  and  to  Scottish  domestics  of  the  day,  even  of  the  high- 
est rank,  nay,  to  young  men  of  family  or  fashion,  on  any 
pinch,  clean  straw,  or  a  dry  hay-loft,  was  always  held  good 
night-quarters. 

For  the  rest,  Lockhard  had  his  master's  orders  to  bring 
some  venison  from  the  inn,  and  Caleb  was  to  trust  to  his  wits 
for  the  honor  of  his  family.  The  Master,  indeed,  a  second 
time  held  out  his  purse  ;  but,  as  it  was  in  sight  of  the  strange 
servant,  the  butler  thought  himself  obliged  to  decline  what 
Ms  fingers  itched  to  clutch.  "Couldna  he  hae  slippit  it 
gently  into  my  hand  ?  "  said  Caleb  ;  "  but  his  honor  will  never 
learn  how  to  bear  himsell  in  siccan  cases." 

Mysie,  in  tlie  mean  time,  according  to  a  uniform  custom 
in  remote  places  in  Scotland,  offered  the  strangers  the  prod- 
uce of  her  little  dairy,  "while  better  meat  was  getting 
ready. '^  And  according  to  another  custom,  not  yet  wholly  in 
desuetude,  as  the  storm  was  now  drifting  off  to  leeward,  the 
Master  carried  the  Keeper  to  the  top  of  his  highest  tower  to 
admire  a  wide  and  waste  extent  of  view,  and  to  "weary  for 
his  dinner." 


CHAPTER  XII 

Now  dame,''  quoth  he,  "  Je  vous  dis  sans  doute. 

Had  I  nought  of  a  capon  but  the  liver, 

And  of  your  white  bread  nought  but  a  shiver, 

And  aft'.-r  tliat  a  roasted  pigge's  head 

(But  I  ne  wold  for  me  no  beast  were  dead), 

Then  had  I  with  you  homely  sufferaunce." 

Chaucer,  Sumner's  Tale. 

It  was  not  without  some  secret  misgivings  that  Caleb  set  out 
upon  his  exploratory  expedition.  In  fact,  it  was  attended 
with  a  treble  difficulty.  He  dared  not  tell  his  master  the 
offence  which  he  had  that  morning  given  to  Bucklaw,  just  for 
the  honor  of  the  family  ;  he  dared  not  acknowledge  he  had 
been  too  hasty  in  refusing  the  purse ;  and,  thirdly,  he  was 
somewhat  apprehensive  of  unpleasant  consequences  upon  his 
meeting  Hayston  under  the  impression  of  an  affront,  and 
probably  by  this  time  under  the  influence  also  of  no  small 
quantity  of  brandy. 

Caleb,  to  do  him  justice,  was  as  bold  as  any  lion  where  the 
honor  of  the  family  of  Ravenswood  was  concerned ;  but  his 
was  that  considerate  valor  which  does  not  delight  in  unnec- 
essary risks.  This,  however,  was  a  secondary  consideration ; 
the  main  point  was  to  veil  the  indigence  of  the  housekeeping 
at  the  castle,  and  to  make  good  his  vaunt  of  the  cheer  which 
his  resources  could  procure,  without  Lockhard's  assistance, 
and  without  supplies  from  his  master.  This  was  as  prime  a 
point  of  honor  with  him  as  with  the  generous  elephant  with 
whom  we  have  already  compared  him,  who,  being  overtasked, 
broke  his  skull  through  the  desperate  exertions  which  he  made 
to  discharge  his  duty,  when  he  perceived  they  were  bringing 
up  another  to  his  assistance. 

The  village  which  they  now  approached  had  frequently 
afforded  the  distressed  butler  resources  upon  similar  emergen- 
cies ;  but  his  relations  with  it  had  been  of  late  much  altered. 

It  was  a  little  hamlet  which  straggled  along  the  side  of  a 
creek  formed  by  the  discharge  of  a  small  brook  into  the  sea, 
and  was  hidden  from  the  castle,  to  which  it  had  been  in  former 
times  an  appendage,  by  the  intervention  of  the  Bhoulder  of 


112  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

a  liill  forming  a  projecting  headland.  It  was  called  Wolfs 
Hope  {i.e.  Wolf's  Haven),  and  the  few  inhabitants  gained  a 
precarious  subsistence  by  manning  two  or  tliree  fishing-boats 
in  the  herring  season,  and  smuggling  gin  and  brandy  during 
the  winter  months.  They  paid  a  kind  of  hereditary  respect 
to  the  Lords  of  Ravenswood ;  but,  in  the  difficulties  of  the 
family,  most  of  the  inhabitants  of  Wolf's  Hope  had  contrived 
to  get  feu-rights  to  their  little  possessions,  their  huts,  kail- 
yards, and  rights  of  commonty,  so  that  they  were  emancipated 
from  the  chains  of  feudal  dependence,  and  free  from  the  vari- 
ous exactions  with  which,  under  every  possible  pretext,  or 
without  any  pretext  at  all,  the  Scottish  landlords  of  the  period, 
themselves  in  great  poverty,  were  wont  to  harass  their  still 
poorer  tenants  at  will.  They  might  be,  on  the  whole,  termed 
independent,  a  circumstance  peculiarly  galling  to  Caleb,  who 
had  been  wont  to  exercise  over  them  the  same  sweeping  au- 
thority in  levying  contributions  which  was  exercised  in  former 
times  in  England,  when  "the  royal  purveyors,  sallying 
forth  from  under  the  Gothic  portcullis  to  purchase  provisions 
with  poAver  and  prerogative,  instead  of  money,  brought  home 
the  plunder  of  an  hundred  markets,  and  all  that  could  be 
seized  from  a  flying  and  hiding  country,  and  deposited  their 
spoil  in  an  hundred  caverns."  * 

Caleb  loved  the  memory  and  resented  the  downfall  of  that 
authority,  which  mimicked,  on  a  petty  scale,  the  grand  con- 
tributions exacted  by  the  feudal  sovereigns.  And  as  he  fondly 
flattered  himself  that  the  awful  rule  and  right  supremacy, 
which  assigned  to  the  Barons  of  Ravenswood  the  first  and 
most  effective  interest  in  all  productions  of  nature  within  five 
miles  of  their  castle,  only  slumbered,  and  was  not  departed 
forever,  he  used  every  now  and  then  to  give  tlie  recollection 
of  the  inhabitants  a  little  Jog  by  some  petty  exaction. 
These  were  at  first  submitted  to,  with  more  or  less  readi- 
ness, by  the  inhabitants  of  the  hamlet  ;  for  they  had  been  so 
long  used  to  consider  the  wants  of  tlie  Baron  and  his  family 
as  having  a  title  to  be  preferred  to  their  own,  that  their 
actual  independence  did  not  convey  to  them  an  immediate 
sense  of  freedom.  They  resembled  a  man  that  has  been  long 
fettered,  who,  even  at  liberty,  feels  in  imagination  the  grasp 
of  the  handcuffs  still  binding  his  wrists.  But  the  exercise  of 
freedom  is  quickly  followed  with  the  natural  consciousness  of 
its  immunities,  as  the  enlarged  prisoner,  by  the  free  use  of 
his  limbs,  soon  dispels  the  cramped  feeling  they  had  ac- 
quired when  bound. 

♦  Burke's  Speech  on  Economical  Reform :  Works,  vol.  iii. ,  p.  850. 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  li3 

The  inhabitants  of  Wolf's  Hope  began  to  grumble,  tc 
resist,  and  at  length  positively  to  refuse  compliance  with  the 
exactions  of  Caleb  Balderstone,  It  was  in  vain  he  reminded 
them,  that  when  the  eleventh  Lord  Ravenswood,  called  the 
Skipper,  from  his  delight  in  naval  matters,  had  encouraged 
the  trade  of  their  port  by  building  the  pier  (a  bulwark  of 
stones  rudely  piled  together),  which  protected  the  fishing- 
boats  from  the  weather,  it  had  been  matter  of  understanding 
that  he  was  to  have  the  first  stone  of  butter  after  the  calving 
of  every  cow  within  the  barony,  and  the  first  egg,  thence 
called  the  Monday's  egg,  laid  by  every  hen  on  every  Monday 
in  the  year. 

The  feuars  heard  and  scratched  their  heads,  coughed, 
sneezed,  and  being  pressed  for  answer,  rejoined  with  one 
voice,  "They could  not  say" — the  universal  refuge  of  a  Scot- 
tish peasant  when  pressed  to  admit  a  claim  which  his  con- 
science owns,  or  perhaps  his  feelings,  and  his  interest  inclines 
him  to  deny. 

Caleb,  however,  furnished  the  notables  of  Wolf's  Hope 
with  a  note  of  the  requisition  of  butter  and  eggs,  which  he 
claimed  as  arrears  of  the  aforesaid  subsidy,  or  kindly  aid, 
payable  as  above  mentioned  ;  and  having  intimated  that  he 
would  not  be  averse  to  compound  the  same  for  goods  or  money, 
if  it  was  inconvenient  to  them  to  pay  in  kind,  left  them,  as  he 
hoped,  to  debate  the  mode  of  assessing  themselves  for  that 
purpose.  On  the  contrary,  they  met  with  a  determined  pur- 
pose of  resisting  tlie  exaction,  and  were  only  undecided  as  to 
the  mode  of  grounding  their  opposition,  when  the  cooper,  a 
very  important  person  on  a  fishing-station,  and  one  of  the 
conscript  fathers  of  the  village,  observed,  ''That  their  hens 
had  caickled  mony  a  day  for  the  Lords  of  Ravenswood,  and 
it  was  time  they  suld  caickle  for  those  that  gave  them  roosts 
and  barley."  A  unanimous  grin  intimated  the  assent  of  the 
assembly.  "'And/'  continued  the  orator,  "if  it's  your  wull, 
I'll  just  tak  a  step  as  far  as  Dunse  for  Davie  Dingwall,  the 
writer,  that's  come  frae  the  North  to  settle  amang  us,  and 
he'll  pit  this  job  to  rights,  I'se  warrant  him." 

A  day  was  accordingly  fixed  for  holding  a  grand  palaver 
at  Wolf's  Hope  on  the  subject  of  Caleb's  requisitions,  and  he 
was  invited  to  attend  at  the  hamlet  for  that  purpose. 

He  went  with  open  hands  and  empty  stomach,  trusting  to 
fill  the  one  on  his  master's  account  and"  the  other  on  his  own 
score,  at  the  expense  of  the  feuars  of  Wolf's  Hope.  But,  death 
to  his  hopes  !  as  he  entered  the  eastern  end  of  the  straggling 
village,  the  awful  form  of  Davie  Dingwall,  a  sly,  dry/ hard- 


114  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

fisted,  shrewd  country  attorney,  who  had  already  acted  against 
the  family  of  Ravenswood,  and  was  a  principal  agent  of  Sir 
William  Asliton,  trotted  in  at  the  western  extremity,  bestrid- 
ing a  leathern  portmanteau  stuffed  with  the  feu-charters  of 
the  hamlet,  and  hoping  he  had  not  kept  Mr.  Balderstone 
waiting,  ''  as  he  was  instructed  and  fully  empowered  to  pay 
or  receive,  compound  or  compensate,  and,  in  fine,  to  age  as 
accords,  respecting  all  mutual  and  unsettled  claims  whatso- 
ever, belonging  or  competent  to  the  Honorable  Edgar  Ravens- 
wood,  commonly  called  the  Master  of  Ravenswood " 

"The  Right  Honorable  Edgar  Lord  Eave'?istvood, "  ssiid 
Caleb,  with  great  emphasis ;  for,  though  conscious  he  had 
little  chance  of  advantage  in  the  conflict  to  ensue,  he  was  re- 
solved not  to  sacrifice  one  jot  of  honor. 

"Lord  Ravenswood,  then,"  said  the  man  of  business — 
*'  we  shall  not  quarrel  with  you  about  titles  of  courtesy — 
commonly  called  Lord  Ravenswood,  or  Master  of  Ravenswood, 
heritable  ]oroprietor  of  the  lands  and  barony  of  Wolf's  Crag, 
on  the  one  part,  and  to  John  Whitefish  and  others,  feuars  in 
the  town  of  Wolf's  Hope,  within  the  barony  aforesaid,  on  the 
other  part." 

Caleb  was  conscious,  from  sad  experience,  that  he  would 
wage  a  very  different  strife  with  this  mercenary  champion 
than  with  the  individual  feuars  themselves,  upon  whose  old  rec- 
ollections, predilections,  and  habits  of  thinking  he  might 
have  wrought  by  a  hundred  indirect  arguments,  to  which 
their  deputy-representative  was  totally  insensible.  The  issue 
of  the  debate  proved  the  reality  of  his  apprehensions.  It 
was  in  vain  he  strained  his  eloquence  and  ingenuity,  and  col- 
lected into  one  mass  all  arguments  arising  from  antique  cus- 
tom and  hereditary  respect,  from  the  good  deeds  done  by  the 
Lords  of  Ravenswood  to  the  community  of  Wolf's  Hope  in 
former  days,  and  from  what  might  be  expected  from  them 
in  future.  The  writer  stuck  to  the  contents  of  his  feu-char- 
ters ;  he  could  not  see  it :  'twas  not  in  the  bond.  And  when 
Caleb,  determined  to  try  what  a  little  spirit  would  do,  depre- 
cated the  consequences  of  Lord  Ravenswood's  withdrawing 
his  protection  from  the  burgh,  and  even  hinted  at  his  using 
active  measures  of  resentment,  the  man  of  law  sneered  in  his 
face. 

"His  clients,*'  he  said,  "had  determined  to  do  the  best 
they  could  for  their  own  town,  and  he  thought  Lord  Ravens- 
wood, since  he  was  a  lord,  might  have  enough  to  do  to  look 
after  his  own  castle.  As  to  any  threats  of  stouthrief  op- 
pression, by  rule  of  thumb,  or  viafacti,  as  the  law  termed  it. 


TTTE  BRTDE  OF  LAMMERMOOJR  115 

he  would  have  Mr.  Balderstone  recollect,  that  new  times* 
were  not  as  old  times  ;  that  they  lived  on  the  south  of  the 
Forth,  and  far  from  the  Highlands  ;  that  his  clients  thought 
they  were  able  to  protect  themselves;  but  should  they  find 
themselves  mistaken,  they  would  apply  to  the  government 
for  the  protection  of  a  corporal  and  four  red-coats,  who," 
said  Mr.  Dingwall,  with  a  grin,  "  would  be  perfectly  able  to 
secure  them  against  Lord  Ravenswood,  and  all  that  he  or  his 
followers  could  do  by  the  strong  hand." 

If  Caleb  could  have  concentrated  all  the  lightnings  of 
aristocracy  in  his  eye,  to  have  struck  dead  this  contemner  of 
allegiance  and  privilege,  he  would  have  launched  them  at  his 
head,  without  respect  to  the  consequences.  As  it  was,  he 
was  compelled  to  turn  his  course  backward  to  the  castle  ;  and 
there  he  remained  for  full  half  a  day  invisible  and  inaccessible 
even  to  Mysie,  sequestered  in  his  own  peculiar  dungeon,  where 
he  sat  burnishing  a  single  pewter  plate  and  whistling  '^  Mag- 
gie Lauder  "  six  hours  without  intermission. 

The  issue  of  this  unfortunate  requisition  had  shut  against 
Caleb  all  resources  which  could  be  derived  from  Wolffs  Hope 
and  its  purlieus,  the  El  Dorado,  or  Peru,  from  which,  in  all 
former  cases  of  exigence,  he  ]i;id  been  able  to  extract  some 
assistance.  He  had,  indeed,  in  a  manner  vowed  that  the  deil 
should  have  him,  if  ever  he  put  the  print  of  his  foot  within  its 
causeway  again.  He  had  hitherto  kept  his  word  ;  and,  strange 
to  tell,  this  secession  had,  as  he  intended,  in  some  degree,  the 
effect  of  a  punishment  upon  the  refractory  f  euars.  Mr.  Balder- 
fitone  had  been  a  person  in  their  eyes  connected  with  a  superior 
order  of  things,  whose  presence  used  to  grace  their  little  festivi- 
ties, whose  advice  they  found  useful  on  many  occasions,  and 
whose  communications  gave  a  sort  of  credit  to  their  village. 
The  place,  they  acknowledged,  '^'didna  look  as  it  used  to  do, 
and  should  do,  since  Mr.  Caleb  keepit  the  castle  sae  closely  ; 
but  doubtless,  touching  the  eggs  and  butter,  it  was  a  most  un- 
reasonable demand,  as  Mr.  Dingwall  had  justly  made  manifest." 

Thus  stood  matters  betwixt  the  parties,  when  the  old  butler, 
though  it  was  gall  and  wormwood  to  him,  found  himself  obliged 
either  to  acknowledge  before  a  strange  man  of  quality,  and, 
what  was  much  worse,  before  that  stranger's  servant,  the  total 
inability  of  Wolf's  Crag  to  produce  a  dinner,  or  he  must  trust 
to  the  compassion  of  the  feuars  of  Wolf's  Hope.  It  was  a 
dreadful  degradation ;  but  necessity  was  equally  imperious 
and  lawless.  With  these  feelings  he  entered  the  street  of  the 
village. 

Willing  to  shake  himself  from  his  cojnpauioii  as  soon  as 


116  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

possible,  he  directed  Mr.  Lockhard  to  Lnckie  Sma'trash's 
change-house,  where  a  din,  proceeding  from  the  revels  of 
Bucklaw.  Oraigengelt,  and  their  part}^,  sounded  half-way  down 
the  street,  while  the  red  glare  from  the  window  overpowered 
the  gray  twilight  which  was  now  settling  down,  and  glimmered 
against  a  parcel  of  old  tubs,  kegs,  and  barrels,  jiiled  up  in  the 
cooper's  yard,  on  the  other  side  of  the  way. 

"  It  you,  Mr.  Lockhard,"  said  the  old  butler  to  his  com- 
panion, "will  be  pleased  to  step  to  the  change-house  where 
that  light  comes  from,  and  where,  as  I  judge,  they  are  now 
singing  '  (Jauld  Kail  in  Aberdeen,^  ye  may  do  your  master's 
errand  about  the  venison,  and  I  will  do  mine  about  Buck- 
law's  bed,  as  I  return  frae  getting  the  rest  of  the  vivers.  It's 
no  that  the  venison  is  actually  needfu',"  he  added,  detaining 
his  colleague  by  the  button,  "  to  make  up  the  dinner ;  but  as 
a  compliment  to  the  hunters,  ye  ken  ;  and,  Mr.  Lockhard,  if 
they  offer  ve  a  drink  o'  yill,  or  a  cup  o'  wine,  or  a  glass  o' 
brandy,  ye'll  be  a  wise  man  to  take  it,  in  case  the  thunner 
should  hae  soured  ours  at  the  castle,  whilk  is  ower  muckle  to 
be  dreaded." 

He  then  permitted  Lockhard  to  depart ;  and  with  foot 
heavy  as  lead,  and  yet  far  lighter  than  his  heart,  stepped  on 
through  the  unequal  street  of  the  straggling  village,  meditat- 
ing on  whom  he  ought  to  make  his  first  attack.  It  was  neces- 
sary he  should  find  some  one  with  whom  old  acknowledged 
greatness  should  weigh  more  than  recent  independence,  and 
to  whom  his  application  might  appear  an  act  of  high  dignity, 
relenting  at  once  and  soothing.  But  he  could  not  recollect 
an  inhabitant  of  a  mind  so  constructed.  ''Our  kail  is  like  to 
be  cauld  eueugh  too,"  he  reflected,  as  the  chorus  of  "  Cauld 
Kail  in  Aberdeen"  again  reached  his  ears.  The  minister — he 
had  got  his  presentation  from  the  late  lord,  but  they  had  quar- 
relled about  teinds ;  the  brewster's  wife — she  had  trusted 
long,  and  the  bill  was  aye  scored  up,  and  unless  the  dignity  of 
the  family  should  actually  require  it,  it  would  be  a  sin  to  dis- 
tress a  widow  woman.  None  was  so  able — but,  on  the  other 
hand,  none  was  likely  to  be  less  willing — to  stand  his  friend 
upon  the  present  occasion,  than  Gibbie  Girder,  the  man  of 
tubs  and  barrels  already  mentioned,  who  had  headed  the  in- 
surrection in  the  matter  of  the  egg  and  butter  subsidy.  "But 
a'  comes  o'  taking  folk  on  the  right  side,  I  trow,"  quoth  Caleb 
to  himself;  "and  I  had  ance  the  ill  hap  to  say  he  was  but  a 
Johny  New-come  in  our  town,  and  the  carle  bore  the  family  an 
ill-will  ever  since.  But  he  married  a  bonny  young  queen,  Jean 
Lightbody,  auld  Lightbody's  daughter,  him  that  was  in  the 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  117 

steading  of  Loup-the-Dyke  ;  and  auld  Lightbody  was  married 
himsell  to  Marion,  that  was  about  ray  lady  in  the  family  forty 
years  syne.  I  hae  liad  niouy  a  day's  daflftiig  wi'  Jean's  mither, 
and  they  say  she  bides  on  wi'  them.  The  carle  has  Jacobuses 
and  Georgiuses  baith,  an  ane  could  get  at  them ;  and  sure  I 
am,  it's  doing  him  an  honor  him  or  his  never  deserved  at  our 
hand,  the  ungracious  sumpli ;  and  if  he  loses  by  us  a'the- 
gither,  he  is  e'en  cheap  o't :  he  can  spare  it  brawly." 

Shaking  off  irresolution,  therefore,  and  turning  at  once 
upon  his  heel,  Caleb  walked  hastily  back  to  the  cooper's 
house,  lifted  the  latch  without  ceremony,  and,  in  a  moment, 
found  himself  behind  the  ^'hallan,"  or  2)artition,  from  wliich 
position  he  could,  himself  unseen,  reconnoitre  the  interior  of 
the  "  but,"  or  kitchen  apartment,  of  the  mansion. 

Reverse  of  the  sad  menage  at  the  Castle  of  Wolf's  Crag,  a 
bickering  fire  roared  up  tlie  cooper's  chimney.  His  wife,  on 
the  one  side,  in  her  pearlings  and  pudding-sleeves,  put  the 
last  finishing  touch  to  her  holiday's  apparel,  while  she  con- 
templated a  very  handsome  and  good-humored  face  in  a  broken 
mirror,  raised  upon  the  "bink"  (the  shelves  on  which  the 
plates  are  disposed)  for  her  special  accommodation.  Her 
mother,  old  Luckie  Loup-the-Dyke,  "a  canty  carline "  as 
was  within  twenty  miles  of  her,  according  to  the  unanimous 
report  of  the  "  cummers,"  or  gossips,  sat  by  the  fire  in  the  full 
glory  of  a  grogram  gown,  lammer  beads,  and  a  clean  cocker- 
nony,  whiffing  a  snug  pipe  of  tobacco,  and  superintending 
tlie  affairs  of  the  kitchen ;  for — sight  more  interesting  to  the 
anxious  heart  and  craving  entrails  of  the  desponding  seneschal 
than  either  buxom  dame  or  canty  cummer — there  bubbled  on 
the  aforesaid  bickering  fire  a  huge  pot,  or  rather  caldron, 
steaming  with  beef  and  brewis ;  while  before  it  revolved  two 
spits,  turned  each  by  one  of  tlie  cooper's  apprentices,  seated 
in  the  opposite  corners  of  the  chimney,  the  one  loaded  with  a 
quarter  of  mutton,  while  the  other  was  graced  with  a  fat 
goose  and  a  brace  of  wild  ducks.  Tlie  sight  and  scent  of 
such  a  land  of  plenty  almost  wholly  overcame  the  drooping 
spirits  of  Caleb.  He  turned,  for  a  moment's  space,  to  recon- 
noitre the  "ben,"  or  parlor  end  of  the  house,  and  there  saw 
a  sight  scarce  less  affecting  to  his  feelings — a  large  round 
table,  covered  for  ten  or  twelve  persons,  decored  (according 
to  his  own  favorite  term)  with  napery  as  white  as  snow,  grand 
flagons  of  pewter,  intermixed  with  one  or  two  silver  cups, 
containing,  as  was  probable,  something  worthy  the  brilliancy 
of  their  outward  appearance,  clean  trenchers,  cutty  spoons, 
knives  and  forks,  sharp,  Ijurnished,  and  prompt  for  action, 
which  lay  all  displayed  as  for  an  especial  festival. 


118  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

"  The  devil's  in  the  peddling  tub-coopering  carle  ! "  mnt- 
tered  Caleb,  in  all  the  envy  of  astonishment ;  ''it's  a  shame  to 
see  the  like  o'  them  gusting  their  gabs  at  sic  a  rate.  But  il 
some  o'  that  gude  cheer  does  not  find  its  way  to  Wolfs  Crag 
this  night,  my  name  is  not  Caleb  Balderstone.^' 

So  resolving,  he  entered  the  apartment,  and,  in  all 
courteous  greeting,  saluted  both  the  mother  and  the  daug>.ter. 
Wolf's  Crag  was  the  court  of  the  barony,  Caleb  prime  minis- 
ter at  Wolf's  Crag  ;  and  it  has  ever  been  remarked  that, 
though  the  masculine  subject  who  pays  the  taxes  sometimes 
growls  at  the  courtiers  by  whom  they  are  imposed,  the  said 
courtiers  continue,  nevertheless,  welcome  to  the  fair  sex,  to 
whom  they  furnish  the  newest  small-talk  and  the  earliest 
fashions.  Both  the  dames  were,  therefore,  at  once  about 
old  Caleb's  neck,  setting  up  their  throats  together  by  way  of 
welcome. 

*•' Ay,  sirs,  Mr.  Balderstone,  and  is  this  you  ?  A  sight  of 
you  is  gude  for  sair  een.  Sit  down — sit  down  ;  the  gudeman 
will  be  blithe  to  see  you — ye  nar  saw  him  sae  cadgy  in  your 
life ;  but  we  are  to  christen  our  bit  wean  the  night,  as  ye 
will  liae  heard,  and  doubtless  ye  will  stay  and  see  the  ordi- 
nance. We  hae  killed  a  wether,  and  ane  o'  our  lads  has  been 
out  wi'  his  gun  at  the  moss  ;  ye  used  to  like  wild-fowl." 

"  Na,  na,  gudewife,"  said  Caleb;  "I  just  keekit  in  to 
wish  ye  joy,  and  I  wad  be  glad  to  hae  spoken  wi'  the  gude- 
man, but "  moving,  as  if  to  go  away. 

"The  ne'er  a  fit  ye's  gang,"  said  the  elder  dame,  laugh- 
ing and  holding  him  fast,  with  a  freedom  which  belonged  to 
their  old  acquaintance  ;  "  wha  kens  what  ill  it  may  bring  to 
the  bairn,  if  ye  owerlook  it  in  that  gate  ?  " 

"  But  I'm  in  a  preceese  hurry,  gudewife,"  said  the  butler, 
suffering  himself  to  be  dragged  to  a  seat  without  much 
resistance  ;  "and  as  to  eating,"  for  he  observed  the  mistress 
of  the  dwelling  bustling  about  to  place  a  trencher  for  him — 
"as  for  eating — lack-a-day,  we  are  just  killed  up  yonder  wi' 
eating  frae  morning  to  night !  It's  shamefu'  epicurism  ;  but 
that's  what  we  hae  gotten  frae  the  English  pock-puddings." 

"Hout,  never  mind  the  English  pock-puddings,"  said 
Lnckie  Lightbody ;  "try  our  puddings,  Mr.  Balderstone; 
there  is  black  pudding  and  white-hass  ;  try  whilk  ye  like 
best." 

"  Baith  gude — baith  excellent — canna  be  better ;  but  the 
very  smell  is  enough  for  me  that  hae  dined  sae  lately  [the 
faithful  wretch  had  fasted  since  daybreak].  But  I  wadna 
affront  your  housewifeskep,  gudewife ;  and,  with  your  per- 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  119 

mission,  I'se  e'en  pit  them  in  my  napkin,  and  eat  them  to  my 
supper  at  e'en,  for  I  am  wearied  of  Mysie's  pastry  and  non- 
sense ;  ye  ken  landward  dainties  aye  pleased  me  best,  Marion, 
and  landward  lasses  too  [looking  at  the  cooper's  wife] .  Ne'er 
a  bit  but  she  looks  far  better  than  when  she  married  Gilbert, 
and  then  she  was  the  bonniest  lass  in  our  parochine  and  the 
neist  till't.     But  gawsie  cow,  goodly  calf." 

The  women  smiled  at  the  compliment  each  to  herself,  and 
they  smiled  again  to  each  other  as  Caleb  wrapped  up  the  pud- 
dings in  a  towel  which  he  had  brought  with  him,  as  a  dragoon 
carries  his  foraging  bag  to  receive  what  may  fall  in  his  way. 

"And  what  news  at  the  castle  ?"  quoth  the  gudewife. 

"  News  !  the  bravest  news  ye  ever  heard —  the  Lord  Keeper's 
up  yonder  wi'  his  fair  daughter,  just  ready  to  fling  her  at  my 
lord's  head,  if  he  winna  tak  her  out  o'  his  arms ;  and  I'se 
warrant  he'll  stitch  our  auld  lands  of  Eavenswood  to  her 
petticoat  tail." 

'•'Eh!  sirs — ay! — and  will  he  hae  her?  and  is  she  weel- 
favored  ?  and  what's  the  color  o'  her  hair  ?  and  does  she  wear 
a  habit  or  a  railly  ? "  were  the  questions  which  the  females 
showered  upon  the  butler. 

"Hout  tout!  it  wad  tak  a  man  a  day  to  answer  a'  your 
questions,  and  I  hae  hardly  a  minute.  Where's  the  gude- 
man  ?  " 

"  Awa'  to  fetch  the  minister,"  said  Mrs.  Girder,  "precious 
Mr.  Peter  Bide-the-Bent,  frae  the  Mosshead  ;  the  honest  man 
has  the  rheumatism  wi' lying  in  the  hills  in  the  persecution." 

"Ay  !  a  Whig  and  a  mountain  man,  naeless  !"  said  Caleb, 
with  a  peevishness  he  could  not  suppress.  "I  hae  seen  the 
day.  Luckie,  when  worthy  Mr.  Cuffcushion  and  the  service- 
book  would  hae  served  your  turn  [to  the  elder  dame],  or  ony 
honest  woman  in  like  circumstances." 

"And  that's  true  too,"  said  Mrs.  Lightbody,  "but  what 
can  a  body  do  ?  Jean  maun  baith  sing  her  psalms  and  busk 
her  cockernony  the  gate  the  gudeman  likes,  and  nae  ither 
gate  ;  for  he's  maister  and  mair  at  hame,  I  can  tell  ye,  Mr. 
Balderstone." 

'  *  Ay,  ay,  and  does  he  guide  the  gear  too  ? "  said  Caleb,  to 
whose  projects  masculine  rule  boded  little  good. 

"Ilka  penny  on't ;  but  he'll  dress  her  as  dink  as  a  daisy, 
as  ye  see  ;  sae  she  has  little  reason  to  complain  :  where  there's 
ane  better  aS  there's  ten  waur." 

"  Aweel,  gudewife,"  said  Caleb,  crestfallen,  but  not  beaten 
off,  "  that  wasna  the  way  ye  guided  your  gudeman  ;  but  ilka 
land  has  its  ain  lauch.     I  maun  be  ganging.     I  just  wanted 


120  WAYERLET  NOVELS 

to  round  in  the  guderaan's  lug,  that  I  heard  them  say  up-bye 
yonder  that  Peter  Puncheon,  that  was  cooper  to  the  Queen's 
stores  at  the  Timmer  Burse  at  Leith,  is  dead  ;  sae  I  thought 
that  maybe  a  word  frae  my  lord  to  the  Lord  Keeper  might 
hae  served  Gilbert ;  but  since  he's  frae  hame " 

"0,  but  ye  maun  stay  his  hame-coming,"  said  the  dame. 
'  I  aye  telled  the  gudeman  ye  meant  weel  to  him ;  but  he 
taks  the  tout  at  every  bit  lippening  word." 

"  Aweel.     I'll  stay  the  last  minute  I  can." 

"  And  so,"  said  the  handsome  young  spouse  of  Mr.  Girder, 
"ye  think  this  Miss  Ashton  is  weel-favored  ?  Troth,  and  sae 
should  she,  to  set  up  for  our  young  lord,  with  a  face  and  a 
hand,  and  a  seat  on  his  horse,  that  might  become  a  king's  son. 
D'ye  ken  that  he  aye  glowers  up  at  my  window,  Mr.  Balder- 
stone,  when  he  chaunces  to  ride  thro'  the  town  ?  Sae  I  hae 
a  right  to  ken  what  like  he  is,  as  weel  as  onybody. 

"I  ken  that  brawly,"  said  Caleb,  "for  I  hae  heard  his 
lordship  say  the  cooper's  wife  had  the  blackest  ee  in  the  barony 
and  I  said,"  '  Weel  may  that  be,  my  lord,  for  it  was  her 
mither's  afore  her,  as  I  ken  to  my  cost. '  Eh,  Marion  ?  Ha, 
ha,  ha  !     Ah  !  these  were  merry  days  !  " 

"  Hout  awa',  auld  carle,"  said  the  old  dame,  "  to  speak  sic 
daflEing  to  young  folk.  But,  Jean — fie,  woman,  dinna  ye  hear 
the  bairn  greet  ?  I'se  warrant  it's  that  dreary  weid  has  come 
ower't  again." 

Up  got  mother  and  grandmother,  and  scoured  away.  Jos- 
tling each  other  as  they  ran,  into  some  remote  corner  of  the 
tenement,  where  the  young  hero  of  the  evening  was  deposited. 
When  Caleb  saw  the  coast  fairly  clear,  he  took  an  invigorating 
pinch  of  snuff,  to  sharpen  and  confirm  his  resolution. 

"  Cauld  be  my  cast,"  thought  he,  "if  either  Bide-the- 
Bent  or  Girder  taste  that  broche  of  wild-fowl  this  evening  ;  " 
and  then  addressing  the  eldest  turnspit,  a  boy  of  about  eleven 
years  old,  and  putting  a  penny  into  his  hand,  he  said,  "  Here 
IS  twal  pennies,  my  man  ;  carry  that  ower  to  Mrs.  Sma'trash, 
and  bid  her  fill  my  mill  wi'snishing,  and  I'll  turn  the  broche 
for  ye  in  the  mean  time  ;  and  she  will  gie  ye  a  ginger-bread 
snap  for  your  pains." 

No  sooner  was  the  elder  boy  departed  on  this  mission  than 
Caleb,  looking  the  remaining  turnspit  gravely  and  steadily 
in  the  face,  removed  from  the  fire  the  spit  bearing  the  wild- 
fowl of  which  he  had  undertaken  the  charge,  clapped  his  hat 
on  his  head,  and  fairly  marched  off  with  it.  He  stopped  at 
the  door  of  the  change-house  only  to  say,  in  a  few  brief 
words,  that  Mr.  Hayston  of  Bucklaw  was  not  to  expect  a  bed 
that  evening  in  tbe  castle. 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  121 

If  this  message  was  too  briefly  delivered  by  Caleb,  it  became 
absolute  rudeness  when  conveyed  through  the  medium  of  a 
suburb  landlady ;  and  Bucklaw  was,  as  a  more  calm  and 
temperate  man  migiit  have  been,  highly  incensed.  Captain 
Orainengelt  proposed,  with  the  unanimous  applause  of  all 
present,  that  they  should  course  the  old  fox  (meaning  Caleb) 
ere  he  got  to  cover,  and  toss  him  in  a  blanket.  But  Lock- 
hard  intimated  to  his  master's  servants  and  those  of  Lord 
Bittlebrains,  in  a  tone  of  authority,  that  tlie  slightest  imper- 
tinence to  the  Master  of  Ravenswood's  domestic  would  give 
Sir  William  Ashton  the  highest  offence.  And  having  so  said, 
in  a  manner  sufficient  to  prevent  any  aggression  on  their  part, 
he  left  the  public-house,  taking  along  with  him  two  servants 
loaded  with  such  provisions  as  he  had  been  able  to  procure, 
and  overtook  Caleb  just  when  he  had  cleared  the  village. 


CHAPTEE  XIII 

Should  I  take  aught  of  you  ?    'Tis  tr'  .^  I  begged  now  , 
And  what  is  worse  than  that,  I  stole  a  kindness  ; 
And,  what  is  worst  of  all,  I  lost  my  way  in't. 

Wit  without  Money. 

The  face  of  the  little  boy,  sole  witness  of  Caleb's  infringement 
upon  the  laws  at  once  of  property  and  hospitality,  would 
have  made  a  good  picture.  He  sat  motionless,  as  if  he  had 
witnessed  some  of  the  sj^ectral  appearances  which  he  had 
heard  told  of  in  a  winter's  evening  ;  and  as  he  forgot  his  own 
duty,  and  allowed  his  spit  to  stand  still,  he  added  to  the  mis- 
fortunes of  the  evening  by  suffering  the  mutton  to  burn  as 
black  as  a  coal.  He  was  first  recalled  from  his  trance  of 
astonishment  by  a  hearty  cuff  administered  by  Dame  Light- 
body,  who,  in  wliatever  other  respects  she  might  conform  to  her 
name,  was  a  woman  strong  of  person,  and  expert  in  the  use  of 
her  hands,  as  some  say  her  deceased  husband  had  known  to 
his  cost. 

"  What  garr'd  ye  let  the  roast  burn,  ye  ill-cleckit  gude- 
f or-naught  ?  " 

"I  dinna  ken,"  said  the  boy. 

"And  Where's  that  ill-deedy  gett,  Giles  ?" 

"I  dinna  ken,"  blubbered  the  astonished  declarant. 

"And  Where's  Mr.  Balderstone  ? — and  abune  a',  and  in 
the  name  of  council  and  kirk -session,  that  I  guld  say  sae, 
where's  the  broche  wi'  the  wild-fowl  ?  " 

As  Mrs.  Girder  here  entered,  and  joined  her  mother's  ex- 
clamations, screaming  into  one  ear  while  the  old  lady  deafened 
the  other,  they  succeeded  in  so  utterly  confounding  the  unhap- 
py urchin  that  he  could  not  for  some  time  tell  his  story  at  all, 
and  it  was  only  when  the  elder  boy  returned  that  the  truth 
began  to  dawn  on  their  minds. 

"  Weel,  sirs,"  said  Mrs.  Lightbody,  "  whawad  hae  thought 
o'  Caleb  Balderstone  playing  an  auld  acquaintance  sic  a 
pliskie  !" 

"0,  weary  on  him  !"said  the  spouse  of  Mr.  Girder  ;  "  and 
what  am  I  to  say  to  the  gudeman  ?  He'll  brain  me,  if  there 
wasna  anither  woman  in  a'  Wolf's  Hope." 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  128 

*'  Hout  tout,  silly  queen,"  said  the  mother  ;  "  na,  na,  it's 
come  to  muckle,  but  it's  no  come  to  that  neither  ;  for  an  he 
brain  you  he  maun  brain  me,  and  I  have  garr'd  his  betters 
stand  back.  Hands  aff  is  fair  play  ;  we  maunna  heed  a  bit 
fly  ting." 

The  tramp  of  horses  now  announced  the  arrival  of  the 
cooper,  with  the  minister.  They  had  no  sooner  dismounted 
than  they  made  for  the  kitchen  fire,  for  the  evening  was  cool 
after  the  thunderstorm,  and  the  woods  wet  and  dirty.  The 
young  gudewife,  strong  in  the  charms  of  her  Sunday  gown 
and  biggonets,  threw  herself  in  the  way  of  receiving  the  first 
attack,  while  her  mother,  like  the  veteran  division  of  the 
Roman  legion,  remained  in  the  rear,  ready  to  support  her  in 
case  of  necessity.  Both  hoped  to  protract  the  discovery  of 
what  had  happened — the  mother,  by  interposing  her  bustling 
person  betwixt  Mr.  Girder  and  the  fire,  and  the  daughter,  by 
the  extreme  cordiality  with  which  she  received  the  minister  and 
her  husband,  and  the  anxious  fears  which  she  expressed  lest 
they  should  have  "  gotten  cauld." 

"Cauld  !"  quoth  the  husband,  surlily,  for  he  was  not  of 
that  class  of  lords  and  masters  whose  wives  are  viceroys  over 
them,  '^' we'll  be  cauld  eneugh,  I  think,  if  ye  dinna  let  us  in 
to  the  fire." 

And  so  saying,  he  burst  his  .way  through  both  lines  of  de- 
fence ;  and,  as  he  had  a  careful  eye  over  his  property  of  every 
kind,  he  perceived  at  one  glance  the  absence  of  the  spit  with 
its  savory  burden.     "  What  the  deil,  woman " 

"Fie  for  shame  !"  exclaimed  both  the  women ;  "  and  be- 
fore Mr.  Bide-the-Bent ! " 

"  I  stand  reproved,"  said  the  cooper  ;  "  but " 

"  The  taking  in  our  mouths  the  name  of  the  great  enemy 
of  our  souls,"  said  Mr.   Bide-the-Bent 

"  I  stand  reproved,"  said  the  cooper, 

" — Is  an  exposing  ourselves  to  his  temptations,"  continued 
the  reverend  monitor,  "and  an  inviting,  or,  in  some  sort,  a 
compelling,  of  him  to  lay  aside  his  other  trafficking  with  un- 
happy persons,  and  wait  upon  those  in  whose  speech  his  name 
is  frequent." 

"  Weel,  weel,  Mr.  Bide-the-Bent,  can  a  man  domairthan 
stand  reproved  ?"  said  the  cooper  ;  "  but  just  let  me  ask  the 
women  what  for  they  hae  dished  the  wild-fowl  before  we 
came." 

"They  arena  dished,  Gilbert,"  said  his  wife;  "but — but 
an  accident " 

"  AVhat  accident  ?"  said  Girder,  with  flashing  eyes.  "Nae 
ill  come  ower  them,  I  trust  ?     Uh  ? " 


1 34  WA  VERLE  Y  NO  VEL  , 

His  wife,  wlio  stood  much  in  awe  of  him,  durst  not  reply, 
but  her  mother  bustled  up  to  her  support,  with  arms  disposed 
as  if  they  were  about  to  be  a-kimbo  at  the  next  reply.  ''I 
gied  them  to  an  acquaintance  of  mine,  Gibbie  Girder  ;  and 
Avliat  about  it  now  ?  " 

Her  excess  of  assurance  struck  Girder  mute  for  an  instant. 
"And  ye  gied  the  wild-fowl,  the  best  end  of  our  christening 
dinner,  to  a  friend  of  yours,  yeauld  rudas  !  And  what  might 
Ms  name  be,  I  pray  ye  ?  " 

''Just  worthy  Mr.  Caleb  Balderstone — frae  Wolfs  Crag,'' 
answered  Marion,  prompt  and  prepared  for  battle. 

Girder's  wrath  foamed  over  all  restraint.  If  there  was  a 
circumstance  which  could  have  added  to  the  resentment  he 
felt,  it  was  that  this  extravagant  donation  had  been  made  in 
favor  of  our  friend  Caleb,  towards  whom,  for  reasons  to  which 
the  reader  is  no  stranger,  he  nourished  a  decided  resentment. 
He  raised  his  riding-wand  against  the  elder  matron,  but  she 
stood  firm,  collected  in  herself,  and  undauntedly  brandished 
the  iron  ladle  with  which  she  had  just  been  "flambing"  {An- 
glice,  basting)  the  roast  of  mutton.  Her  weapon  was  cer- 
tainly the  better,  and  her  arm  not  the  weakest  of  the  two  ;  so 
that  Gilbert  thought  it  safest  to  turn  short  off  upon  his  wife, 
who  had  by  this  time  hatched  a  sort  of  hysterical  whine, 
which  greatly  moved  the  minister,  who  was  in  fact  as  simple 
and  kind-hearted  a  creature  as  ever  breathed.  "And  you,  ye 
thowless  jade,  to  sit  still  and  see  my  substance  disponed  upon 
to  an  idle,  drunken,  reprobate,  worm-eaten  serving-man,  just 
because  he  kittles  the  lugs  o'  a  silly  auld  wife  wi'  useless 
clavers,  and  every  twa  words  a  lee  ?   I'll  gar  you  asgude " 

Here  the  minister  interposed,  both  by  voice  and  action, 
while  Dame  Lightbody  threw  herself  in  front  of  her  daughter, 
and  flourished  her  ladle. 

"Am  I  no  to  chastise  my  ain  wife  ?"exclaimed  the  cooper, 
very  indignantly. 

"Ye  may  chastise  your  ain  wife  if  ye  like,"  answered  Dame 
Lightbody  ;  "  but  ye  shall  never  lay  finger  on  my  daughter, 
and  that  ye  may  found  upon." 

"For  shame,  Mr.  Girder  !"  said  the  clergyman;  "this  is 
what  I  little  expected  to  have  seen  of  you,  that  you  suld  give 
rein  to  your  sinful  passions  against  your  nearest  and  your 
dearest,  and  this  night  too,  when  ye  are  called  to  the  most 
solemn  duty  of  a  Christian  parent ;  and  a'  for  what  ?  For  a 
redundancy  of  creature-comforts,  as  worthless  as  they  are  un- 
needful." 

"Worthless!"  exclaimed   the   cooper.     "A  better  guee 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  126 

never  walkit  on  stubble  ;  two  finer,  dentier  wild  ducks  never 
wat  a  feather." 

"Be  it  sae,  neighbor,"  rejoined  the  minister ;  *' but  see 
what  superfluities  are  yet  revolving  before  your  fire.  I  have 
seen  the  day  when  ten  of  the  bannocks  which  stand  upon  that 
board  would  have  been  an  acceptable  dainty  to  as  many  men, 
that  were  starving  on  hills  and  bogs,  and  in  caves  of  the  earth, 
for  the  Gospel's  sake." 

''And  that's  what  vexes  me  maist  of  a',"  said  the  cooper, 
anxious  to  get  some  one  to  sympathize  with  his  not  altogether 
causeless  anger  ;  "an  the  queen  had  gien  it  to  ony  suffering 
sant,  or  to  onybody  ava  but  that  reaving,  lying,  oppressing 
Tory  villain,  that  rade  in  the  wicked  troop  of  militia  when 
it  was  commanded  out  against  the  sants  at  Bothwell  Brig  by 
the  auld  tyrant  Allan  Eavenswood,  that  is  gane  to  his  place, 
I  wad  the  less  hae  minded  it.  But  to  gie  the  principal  part 
o'  the  feast  to  the  like  o'  him !" 

"Aweel,  Gilbert,"  said  the  minister,  "and  dinna  ye  see 
a  high  judgment  in  this  ?  The  seed  of  the  righteous  are  not 
seen  begging  their  bread:  think  of  the  son  of  a  powerful 
oppressor  being  brought  to  the  pass  of  supporting  his  house- 
hold from  your  fulness." 

"  And,  besides,"  said  the  wife,  "  it  wasna  for  Lord  Ravens- 
wood  neither,  an  he  wad  hear  but  a  body  speak  :  it  was  to 
help  to  entertain  the  Lord  Keeper,  as  they  ca'  him,  that's  up 
yonder  at  Wolf's  Crag." 

"  Sir  William  Ashton  at  Wolf's  Crag  !"  ejaculated  the  as- 
tonished man  of  hoops  and  staves. 

"  And  hand  and  glove  wi'  Lord  Ravenswood,"  added  Dame 
Lightbody. 

"  Doited  idiot !  that  auld,  clavering  sneckdrawer  wad  gar 
ye  trow  the  moon  is  made  of  green  cheese.  Tlie  Lord  Keeper 
and  Ravenswood  !  they  are  cat  and  dog,   hare  and  hound." 

"I  tell  ye  they  are  man  and  wife,  and  gree  better  than 
some  others  that  are  sae,"  retorted  the  mother-in-law  ;  "for- 
bye,  Peter  Puncheon,  that's  cooper  to  the  Queen's  stores,  is 
dead,  and  the  place  is  to  fill,  and " 

"  Od  guide  us,  wull  ye  hand  your  skirling  tongues  ! "  said 
Girder, — for  we  are  to  remark,  that  this  explanation  was 
given  like  a  catch  for  two  voices,  the  younger  dame,  much 
encouraged  by  the  turn  of  the  debate,  taking  up  and  repeating 
in  a  higher  tone  the  words  as  fast  as  they  were  uttered  by  her 
mother. 

"  The  gudewife  says  naething  but  what's  true,  maister," 
said  Girder's  foreman,  who  had  come  in  during  the  fray.     "I 


136  WA  VERLEY  NOVELS 

saw  the  Lord  Keeper's  servants  drinking  and  driving  ower  at 
Luckie  Sma'trasli's,  ower- bye  yonder/' 

"  And  is  their  maister  up  at  Wolfs  Crag  ?"'  said  Girder. 

*'Ay,  troth  is  he,"  replied  his  man  of  confidence. 

"And  friends  wi'  Ravenswood  ?  " 

"It's  like  sae/'  answered  the  foreman,  "since  he  is  put- 
ting up  wi'  him." 

"  And  Peter  Puncheon's  dead  ?" 

"  Ay,  ay.  Puncheon  has  leaked  out  at  last,  the  auld  carle," 
said  the  foreman;  "mony  a  dribble  o'  brandy  has  gaen 
through  him  in  his  day.  But  as  for  the  broche  and  the  Avild- 
fowl,  the  saddle's  no  aif  your  mare  yet,  maister,  and  I  could 
follow  and  bring  it  back,  for  Mr.  Balderstone's  no  far  aff  the 
town  yet." 

"  Do  say.  Will  ;  and  come  here,  I'll  tell  ye  what  to  do 
when  ye  owertake  him." 

He  relieved  the  females  of  his  presence,  and  gave  Will  his 
private  instructions. 

"■  A  bonny-like  thing,"  said  the  mother-in-law,  as  the 
cooper  re-entered  the  ajDartment,  "to  send  the  innocent  lad 
after  an  armed  man,  when  ye  ken  Mr.  Balderstone  aye  wears 
a  rapier,  and  whiles  a  dirk  into  the  bargain." 

"  I  trust,"  said  the  minister,  "ye  have  reflected  weel  on 
what  ye  have  done,  lest  you  should  minister  cause  of  strife,  of 
which  it  is  my  duty  to  say,  he  who  affordeth  matter,  albeit  he 
himself  striketh  not,  is  in  no  manner  guiltless." 

"Never'  fash  your  beard,  Mr.  Bide-the-Bent,"  replied 
Grirder  ;  "  ane  canna  get  their  breath  out  here  between  wives 
and  ministers.  I  ken  best  how  to  turn  my  ain  cake.  Jean, 
serve  up  the  dinner,  and  nae  mair  about  it." 

Nor  did  he  again  allude  to  the  deficiency  in  the  course  of 
the  evening. 

Meantime,  the  foreman,  mounted  on  his  master's  steed, 
and  charged  with  his  special  orders,  pricked  swiftly  forth  in 
pursuit  of  the  maraiider  Caleb.  That  personage,  it  may  be 
imagined,  did  not  linger  by  the  way.  He  intermitted  even 
his  dearly-beloved  chatter,  for  the  purpose  of  making  more 
haste,  only  assuring  Mr.  Lockhard  that  he  had  made  the 
purveyor's  wife  give  the  wild-fowl  a  few  turns  before  the  fire, 
in  case  that  Mysie,  who  had  been  so  much  alarmed  by  the 
thunder,  should  not  have  her  kitchen-grate  in  full  splendor^ 
Meanwhile,  alleging  the  necessity  of  being  at  Wolf's  Crag  as 
soon  as  possible,  he  pushed  on  so  fast  that  his  companions 
could  scarce  keep  up  with  him.  He  began  already  to  think  he 
was  safe  from  pursuit,  having   gained  the   summit   of  the 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  137 

swelling  eminence  which  divides  Wolf's  Crag  from  the  village, 
when  he  heard  the  distant  tread  of  a  horse,  and  a  voice 
which  shouted  at  intervals,  "  Mr.  Caleb — Mr.  Balderstone — 
Mr.  Caleb  Balderstone — hollo — bide  a  wee  ! " 

■  Caleb,  it  may  be  well  believed,  was  in  no  hurry  to  acknowl- 
edge the  summons.  First,  he  would  not  hear  it,  and  faced 
his  companions  down,  that  it  was  the  echo  of  the  wind ;  then 
he  said  it  was  not  worth  stopping  for ;  and,  at  length,  halting 
reluctantly,  as  the  figure  of  the  horseman  appeared  through 
the  shades  of  the  evening,  he  bent  up  his  whole  soul  to  the 
task  of  defending  his  prey,  threw  himself  into  an  attitude  of 
dignity,  advanced  the  spit,  which  in  his  grasp  might  with  its 
burden  seem  both  spear  and  shield,  and  firmly  resolved  to  die 
rather  than  surrender  it. 

What  was  his  astonishment,  when  the  cooper's  foreman, 
riding  up  and  addressing  him  with  respect,  told  him,  "  His 
master  was  very  sorry  he  was  absent  when  he  came  to  his 
dwelling,  and  grieved  that  he  could  not  tarry  the  christening 
dinner  ;  and  that  he  had  taen  the  freedom  to  send  a  sma'  run- 
let of  sack,  and  ane  anker  of  brandy,  as  he  understood  there 
were  guests  at  the  castle,  and  that  they  were  short  of  prepara- 
tion." 

I  have  heard  somewhere  a  story  of  an  elderly  gentleman 
who  was  pursued  by  a  bear  that  had  gotten  loose  from  its 
muzzle,  until  completely  exhausted.  In  a  fit  of  desperation, 
he  faced  round  upon  Bruin  and  lifted  his  cane  ;  at  the  sight 
of  which  the  instinct  of  discipline  prevailed,  and  the  animal, 
instead  of  tearing  him  to  pieces,  rose  up  upon  his  hind-legs 
and  instantly  began  to  shuffle  a  saraband.  Not  less  than  the 
joyful  surprise  of  the  senior,  who  had  supposed  himself  in  the 
extremity  of  peril  from  which  he  was  thus  unexpectedly 
relieved,  was  that  of  our  excellent  friend  Caleb,  when  he  found 
the  pursuer  intended  to  add  to  his  prize,  instead  of  bereaving 
him  of  it.  He  recovered  his  latitude,  however,  instantly,  so 
soon  as  the  foreman,  stooping  from  his  nag,  where  he  sat 
perched  betwixt  the  two  barrels,  whispered  in  his  ear — "If 
onything  about  Peter  Puncheon's  place  could  be  airted  their 
way,  John  [Gibbie]  Girder  wad  mak  it  better  to  the  Master 
of  Ravenswood  than  a  pair  of  new  gloves  ;  and  that  he  wad  be 
blithe  to  speak  wi'  Maister  Balderstone  on  that  head,  and  he 
wad  find  him  as  pliant  as  a  hoop-willow  in  a'  that  he  could 
wish  of  him." 

Caleb  iieard  all  this  without  rendering  any  answer,  except 
that  of  all  great  men  from  Louis  XIV.  downwards,  namely, 
"  We  will  see  about  it :  "  and  then  added  aloud,  for  the  edifi- 


128  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

cation  of  Mr.  Lockliard — "  Your  master  has  acted  with 
becoming  civility  and  attention  in  forwarding  the  liquors,  and 
I  will  not  fail  to  represent  it  properly  to  my  Lord  Eavenswood. 
And,  my  lad, "  he  said,  "  you  may  ride  on  to  the  castle,  and 
if  none  of  the  servants  are  returned,  whilk  is  to  be  dreaded, 
as  they  make  day  and  night  of  it  when  they  are  out  of  sight, 
ye  may  put  them  into  the  porter's  lodge,  whilk  is  on  the  right 
hand  of  the  great  entiy  ;  the  porter  has  got  leave  to  go  to  see 
his  friends,  sae  ye  will  meet  no  ane  to  steer  ye." 

The  foreman,  having  received  his  orders,  rode  on ;  and 
having  deposited  the  casks  in  the  deserted  and  ruinous  porter's 
lodge,  he  returned  unquestioned  by  any  one.  Having  thus 
executed  his  master's  commission,  and  doffed  his  bonnet  to 
Caleb  and  his  company  as  he  repassed  them  in  his  way  to  the 
village,  he  returned  to  have  his  share  of  the  christening  fas- 
ti vity.  * 

*  See  Kaid  of  Caleb  Balderstone.    Not«  6. 


CHAPTEE  XIV 

As,  to  the  Autumn  breeze's  bugle  sound, 

Various  and  vague  the  dry  leaves  dance  their  round ; 

Or,  from  the  garner-door,  on  ether  borne. 

The  chaff  flies  devious  from  the  winnow'd  corn  ; 

So  vague,  so  devious,  at  the  breath  of  heaven, 

From  their  fix'd  aim  are  mortal  counsels  driv'n. 

Anonymous. 

We  left  Caleb  Balderstone  in  the  extremity  of  triumph  at  the 
success  of  his  various  achievements  for  the  honor  of  the  house 
of  Ravenswood.  When  he  had  mustered  and  marslialled  his 
dishes  of  divers  kinds,  a  more  royal  provision  had  not  been 
seen  in  Wolf's  Crag  since  the  funeral  feast  of  its  deceased  lord. 
Great  was  the  glory  of  the  serving-man,  as  he  "  decored  "  the 
old  oaken  table  with  a  clean  cloth,  and  arranged  upon  it  car- 
bonaded  venison  and  roasted  wild-fowl,  with  a  glance,  every 
now  and  then,  as  if  to  upbraid  the  incredulity  of  his  master 
and  his  guests  ;  and  with  many  a  story,  more  or  less  true,  was 
Lockhard  that  evening  regaled  concerning  the  ancient  grand- 
eur of  Wolf's  Crag,  and  the  sway  of  its  barons  over  the  country 
in  their  neighborhood. 

"A  vassal  scarce  held  a  calf  or  a  lamb  his  ain,  till  he  had 
first  asked  if  the  Lord  of  Ravenswood  was  pleased  to  accept 
it ;  and  they  were  obliged  to  ask  the  lord's  consent  before  they 
married  in  these  days,  and  mony  a  merry  tale  they  tell  about 
that  right  as  weel  as  others.  And  although,"  said  Caleb, 
"  these  times  are  not  like  the  gude  old  times,  when  authority 
had  its  right,  yet  true  it  is,  Mr.  Lockhard,  and  you  yoursell 
may  partly  have  remarked,  that  we  of  the  house  of  Ravens- 
wood do  our  endeavor  in  keeping  up,  by  all  just  and  lawful 
exertion  of  our  baronial  authority,  that  due  and  fitting  con- 
nection betwixt  superior  and  vassal,  whilk  is  in  some  danger 
of  falling  into  desuetude,  owing  to  the  general  license  and 
misrule  of  these  present  unhappy  times." 

"  Umph  !"  said  Mr.  Lockhard  ;  "and  if  I  may  inquire, 
Mr.  Balderstone,  pray  do  you  find  your  people  at  the  village 
yonder  amenable  ?  for  I  must  needs  say,  that  at  Ravenswood 
Castle,  now  pertaining  to  my  master,  the  Lord  Keeper,  ye 
have  not  left  behind  ye  the  most  compliant  set  of  tenantry." 


180  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

"  A.\\  !  but  Mr.  Lockhard,"  replied  Caleb,  "ye  must  con- 
sider tliat  there  has  been  a  change  of  hands,  and  the  auld 
lord  might  expect  twa  turns  f  rae  tliem,  when  the  new-comer 
canna  get  ane.  A  dour  and  fractious  set  they  were,  thae 
tenants  of  Ravenswood,  and  ill  to  live  wi'  when  they  dinna 
ken  their  master  ;  and  if  your  master  put  them  mad  ance, 
the  whole  country  will  not  put  them  down." 

••  Troth,"' said  Mr.  Lockhard,  "an  such  be  the  case,  I 
think  the  vfisest  thing  for  us  a'  wad  be  to  hammer  up  a 
match  between  your  young  lord  and  our  winsome  young 
leddy  up-bye  there ;  and  Sir  William  might  just  stitch  your 
auld  barony  to  her  gown-sleeve,  and  he  wad  sune  cuitle 
another  out  o'  somebody  else,  sic  a  lang  head  as  he  has." 

Caleb  shook  his  head.  '"'I  wish,"  he  said — "  I  wish  that 
may  answer,  Mr.  Lockhard.  There  are  auld  prophecies  about 
this  house  I  wad  like  ill  to  see  fulfilled  wi'  my  auld  een,  that 
has  seen  evil  eneugh  already." 

"  Pshaw  !  never  mind  freits,"  said  his  brother  butler  ;  "if 
the  young  folk  liked  ane  anither,  they  wad  make  a  winsome 
couple.  But,  to  say  truth,  there  is  a  leddy  sits  in  our  hall- 
neuk,  maun  have  her  hand  in  that  as  weel  as  in  every  other 
job.  But  there's  no  harm  in  drinking  to  their  healths,  and 
I  will  fill  Mrs.  Mysie  a  cup  of  Mr.  Girder's  canary." 

While  they  thus  enjoyed  themselves  in  the  kitchen,  the 
company  in  the  hall  were  not  less  pleasantly  engaged.  So 
soon  as  Eavenswood  had  determined  upon  giving  the  Lord 
Keeper  such  hospitality  as  he  had  to  offer,  he  deemed  it  in- 
cumbent on  him  to  assume  the  open  and  courteous  brow  of  a 
well-pleased  host.  It  has  been  often  remarked,  that  when  a 
man  commences  by  acting  a  character,  he  frequently  ends  by 
adopting  it  in  good  earnest.  In  the  course  of  an  hour  or  two, 
Ravenswood,  to  his  own  surprise,  found  himself  in  the  situa- 
tion of  one  who  frankly  does  his  best  to  entertain  welcome 
and  honored  guests.  How  much  of  this  change  in  his  dispo- 
sition was  to  be  ascribed  to  the  beauty  and  simplicity  of  Miss 
Ashton,  to  the  readiness  with  which  she  accommodated  her- 
self to  the  inconveniences  of  her  situation  ;  how  much  to 
the  smooth  and  plausible  conversation  of  the  Lord  Keeper, 
remarkably  gifted  with  those  words  which  win  the  ear,  must 
be  left  to  the  reader's  ingenuity  to  conjecture.  But  Ravens- 
wood was  insensible  to  neither. 

The  Lord  Keeper  was  a  veteran  statesman,  well  acqirainted 
with  courts  and  cabinets,  and  intimate  with  all  the  various 
*-urns  of  public  affairs  during  the  last  eventful  years  of  the 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  131 

17th  century.  He  could  talk,  from  his  own  knowledge,  of 
men  and  events,  in  a  way  which  failed  not  to  win  attention, 
and  had  the  peculiar  art,  while  he  never  said  a  word  which 
committed  himself,  at  the  same  time  to  persuade  the  hearer 
that  he  was  speaking  without  the  least  shadow  of  scrupulous 
caution  or  reserve.  Eavenswood,  in  spite  of  his  prejudices 
and  real  grounds  of  resentment,  felt  himself  at  once  amused 
and  instructed  in  listening  to  him,  while  the  statesman,  whose 
inward  feelings  had  at  first  so  much  impeded  his  efforts  to 
make  himself  known,  had  now  regained  all  the  ease  and 
fluency  of  a  silver-tongued  lawyer  of  the  very  highest 
order. 

His  daughter  did  not  speak  much,  but  she  smiled  ;  and 
what  she  did  say  argued  a  submissive  gentleness,  and  a  desire 
to  give  pleasure,  which,  to  a  proud  man  like  Eavenswood,  was 
more  fascinating  than  the  most  brilliant  wit.  Above  all,  he 
could  not  but  observe  that,  whether  from  gratitude  or  from 
some  other  motive,  he  himself,  in  his  deserted  and  unpro- 
vided hall,  was  as  much  the  object  of  respectful  attention  to 
his  guests  as  he  would  have  been  when  surrounded  by  all  the 
appliances  and  means  of  hospitality  proper  to  his  high  birth. 
All  deficiencies  passed  unobserved,  or,  if  they  did  not  escape 
notice,  it  was  to  praise  the  substitutes  which  Caleb  had  con- 
trived to  supply  the  want  of  the  usual  accommodations. 
Where  a  smile  was  unavoidable,  it  was  a  very  good-hu- 
mored one,  and  often  coujjled  with  some  well-turned  compli- 
ment, to  show  how  much  the  guests  esteemed  the  merits  of  their 
noble  A.ost,  how  little  they  thought  of  the  inconveniences  with 
which  they  were  surrounded.  I  am  not  sure  whether  the 
pride  of  being  found  to  outbalance,  in  virtue  of  his  own  per- 
sonal merit,  all  the  disadvantages  of  fortune,  did  not  make 
as  favorable  an  impression  upon  the  haughty  heart  of  the 
Master  of  Eavenswood  as  the  conversation  of  the  father  and 
the  beauty  of  Lucy  Ashton. 

The  hour  of  repose  arrived.  The  Keeper  and  his  daugh- 
ter retired  to  their  apartments,  which  were  "  decored  "  m.ore 
properly  than  could  have  been  anticipated.  In  making  the 
necessary  arrangements,  Mysie  had  indeed  enjoyed  the  as- 
sistance of  a  gossip  who  had  arrived  from  the  village  upon  an 
exploratory  expedition,  but  had  been  arrested  by  Caleb,  and 
impressed  into  the  domestic  drudgery  of  the  evening  ;  so 
that,  instead  of  returning  home  to  describe  the  dress  and 
person  of  the  grand  young  lady,  she  found  herself  compelled 
to  be  active  in  the  domestic  economy  of  Wolf's  Crag. 

According  to  the  custom  of  the  time,  the  Master  of  Kavens- 


138  WAVEELEY  NOVELS 

wood  attended  the  Lord  Keeper  to  his  apartment,  followed 
by  Caleb,  who  placed  on  the  table,  with  all  the  ceremo- 
nials due  to  torches  of  wax,  two  rudely-framed  tallow- 
candles,  such  as  in  those  days  were  only  used  by  the  peasantry, 
hooped  in  paltry  clasps  of  wire,  which  served  for  candlesticks. 
He  then  disappeared,  and  presently  entered  with  two  earthen 
flagons  (the  china,  he  said,  had  b©en  little  used  since  my 
lady's  time),  one  filled  with  canary  wine,  the  other  with 
brandy.*  The  canary  sack,  unheeding  all  probabilities  of 
detection,  he  declared  had  been  twenty  years  in  the  cellars  of 
Wolf's  Crag,  'though  it  was  not  for  him  to  speak  before 
their  honors  ;  the  brandy — it  was  weel-kenned  liquor,  as  mild 
as  mead  and  as  strong  as  Sampson ;  it  had  been  in  the  house 
ever  since  the  memorable  revel,  in  which  auld  Micklestob 
had  been  slain  at  the  head  of  the  stair  by  Jamie  of  Jenkle- 
brae,  on  account  of  the  honor  of  the  worshipful  Lady 
Muirend,  wha  was  in  some  sort  an  ally  of  the  family ;  nathe- 
less " 

''But  to  cut  that  matter  short,  Mr.  Caleb,"  said  the 
Keeper,  "perhaps  you  will  favor  me  with  a  ewer  of  water." 

"  Grod  forbid  your  lordship  should  drink  water  in  this 
family,"  replied  Caleb,  "to  the  disgrace  of  so  honorable  a 
house !  " 

"  Nevertheless,  if  his  lordship  have  a  fancy,"  said  tlie 
Master,  smiling,  "I  think  you  might  indulge  him;  for,  if  I 
mistake  not,  there  has  been  water  drunk  here  at  no  distant 
date,  ahd  with  good  relish  too." 

''  To  be  sure,  if  his  lordship  has  a  fancy,"  said  Caleb  ;  and 
re-entering  with  a  jug  of  pure  element — "  He  will  scarce  find 
such  water  ony where  as  is  drawn  f rae  the  well  at  Wolf's  Crag  ; 
nevertheless " 

''Nevertheless,  we  must  leave  the  Lord  Keeper  to  his  re- 
pose in  this  poor  chamber  of  ours,"  said  the  Master  of  Eavens- 
wood,  interrupting  his  talkative  domestic,  who  immediately 
turning  to  the  doorway,  with  a  profound  reverence,  prepared 
to  usher  his  master  from  the  secret  chamber. 

But  the  Lord  Keeper  prevented  his  host's  departure. 
"I  have  but  one  word  to  say  to  the  Master  of  Ravenswood, 
Mr.  Caleb,  and  I  fancy  he  will  excuse  your  waiting." 

With  a  second  reverence,  lower  than  the  former,  Caleb 
withdrew ;  and  his  master  stood  motionless,  expecting,  with 
considerable  embarrassment,  what  was  to  close  the  events  of 
a  day  fraught  with  unexpected  incidents. 

"  Master  of  Ravenswood,"  said  Sir  William  Ash  ton,  with 

*  Sec  Ar.cicnt  Hospitality.    Note  6. 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  133 

some  embarrassment,  '•!  hope  you  understand  the  Christian 
law  too  well  to  suffer  the  sun  to  set  upon  your  anger/' 

The  Master  blushed  and  replied,  "  He  had  no  occasion  that 
evening  to  exercise  the  duty  enjoined  upon  him  by  his 
Christian  faith." 

"I  should  have  thought  otherwise,"  said  his  guest,  *' con- 
sidering the  various  subjects  of  dispute  and  litigation  which 
have  unhappily  occurred  more  frequently  than  was  desirable 
or  necessary  betwixt  the  late  honorable  lord,  your  father,  and 
myself." 

"I  could  wish,  my  lord,"  said  Ravenswood,  agitated  by 
suppressed  emotion,  ''that  reference  to  these  circumstances 
should  be  made  anywhere  rather  than  under  my  father's 
roof." 

•''I  should  have  felt  the  delicacy  of  this  appeal  at  another 
time,"  said  Sir  William  Ashton,  "but  now  I  must  proceed 
with  what  I  mean  to  say.  I  have  suffered  too  much  in  my 
own  mind,  from  the  false  delicacy  which  prevented  my  solic- 
iting with  earnestness,  what  indeed  I  frequently  requested,  a 
personal  communing  with  your  father  :  much  distress  of  mind 
to  him  and  to  me  might  have  been  prevented." 

"  It  is  true,"  said  Ravenswood,  after  a  moment's  reflection, 
"  I  have  heard  my  father  say  your  lordship  had  proposed  a 
personal  interview." 

"  Proposed,  my  dear  Master  ?  I  did  indeed  propose  it ; 
but  I  ought  to  have  begged,  entreated,  beseeched  it.  I  ought 
to  have  torn  away  the  veil  which  interested  persons  had 
stretched  betwixt  us,  and  shown  myself  as  I  was,  willing  to 
sacrifice  a  considerable  part  even  of  my  legal  rights,  in  order 
to  conciliate  feelings  so  natural  as  his  must  be  allowed  to  have 
been.  Let  me  say  for  myself,  my  young  friend,  for  so  I  will 
call  you,  that  had  your  father  and  I  spent  the  same  time 
together  which  my  good  fortune  has  allowed  me  to-day  to 
pass  in  your  company,  it  is  possible  the  land  might  yet  have 
enjoyed  one  of  the  most  respectable  of  its  ancient  nobility, 
and  I  should  have  b^^^en  spared  the  pain  of  parting  in  enmity 
from  a  person  whose  general  character  I  so  much  admired  and 
honored." 

He  put  his  handkerchief  to  his  eyes.  Ravenswood  also  was 
moved,  but  awaited  in  silence  the  progress  of  this  extraordi- 
nary communication. 

"It  is  necessary,"  continued  the  Lord  Keeper,  ''and 
proper  that  you  should  understand,  that  there  have  been 
many  points  betwixt  us,  in  which,  although  I  judged  it 
proper  that  there  should  be  an  exact  ascertainment  of  my 


134  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

legal  rights  by  the  decree  of  a  conrt  of  justice,  yet  it  waa 
never  my  intention  to  press  them  beyond  the  verge  of 
equity/' 

"My  lord/'  said  the  Master  of  Eavenswood,  ''it  is  un- 
necessary to  pursue  this  topic  farther.  What  the  law  will 
give  you,  or  has  given  you,  you  enjoy — or  you  shall  enjoy  ; 
neither  my  father  nor  I  myself  would  have  received  anything 
on  the  footing  of  favor." 

''  Favor  !  No,  you  misunderstand  me,"  resumed  the  Keep- 
er;  "or  rather  you  are  no  lawyer.  A  right  may  be  good  in 
law,  and  ascertained  to  be  so,  which  yet  a  man  of  honor  may 
not  in  every  case  care  to  avail  himself  of." 

"I  am  sorry  for  it,  my  lord/"  said  the  Master. 

"  Nay,  nay,"  retorted  his  guest,  "  you  speak  like  a  young 
counsellor  ;  your  spirit  goes  before  your  wit.  There  are  many 
things  still  open  for  decision  betwixt  us.  Can  you  blame 
me,  an  old  man  desirous  of  peace,  and  in  the  castle  of  a  young 
nobleman  who  has  saved  my  daughter's  life  and  my  own,  that 
I  am  desirous,  anxiously  desirous,  that  these  should  be  set- 
tled on  the  most  liberal  principles  ?  " 

The  old  man  kept  fast  hold  of  the  Master's  passive  hand 
as  he  spoke,  and  made  it  impossible  for  him,  be  his  predeter- 
mination what  it  would,  to  return  any  other  than  an  acquies- 
cent reply  ;  and  wishing  his  guest  good-night,  he  postponed 
farther  conference  until  the  next  morning. 

Eavenswood  hurried  into  the  hall,  where  he  was  to  spend 
the  night,  and  for  a  time  traversed  its  pavement  with  a  dis- 
ordered and  rapid  pace.  His  mortal  foe  was  under  his  roof, 
yet  his  sentiments  towards  him  were  neither  those  of  a  feudal 
enemy  nor  of  a  true  Christian.  He  felt  as  if  he  could  neither 
forgive  him  in  the  one  character,  nor  follow  forth  his  vengeance 
in  the  other,  but  that  he  was  making  a  base  and  dishonorable 
composition  betwixt  his  resentment  against  the  father  and 
his  affection  for  his  daughter.  He  cursed  himself,  as  he 
hurried  to  and  fro  in  the  pale  moonlight,  and  more  ruddy 
gleams  of  the  expiring  wood-fire.  He  threw  _  open_  and  shut 
the  latticed  windows  with  violence,  as  if  alike  impatient  of  the 
admission  and  exclusion  of  free  air.  At  length,  however, 
the  torrent  of  passion  foamed  off  its  madness,  and  he  flung 
himself  into  the  chair  which  he  proposed  as  his  place  of  repose 
for  the  night. 

"  If,  in  reality,"  such  were  the  calmer  thoughts  that  fol- 
lowed the  first  tempest  of  his  passion—"  if,  in  reality,  this 
man  desires  no  more  than  the  law  allows  him — if  he  is  willing 
to  adjust   even  his  acknowledged  rights  upon  an  equitable 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  185 

footing,  what  could  be  my  father's  cause  of  complaint  ? — 
what  is  mine  ?  Those  from  whom  we  won  our  ancient  pos- 
sessions fell  under  the  sword  of  my  ancestors,  and  left  lands 
and  livings  to  the  conquerors  ;  we  sink  under  the  force  of  the 
law,  now  too  powerful  for  the  Scottish  chivalry.  Let  us  par- 
ley with  the  victors  of  the  day,  as  if  we  had  been  besieged  in 
our  fortress,  and  without  hope  of  relief.  This  man  may  be 
other  than  I  have  thought  him ;  and  his  daughter — but  I 
have  resolved  not  to  think  of  her." 

He  wrapped  his  cloak  around  him,  fell  asleep,  and 
dreamed  of  Lucy  Ashton  till  daylight  gleamed  through  the 
lattices 


CHAPTER  XV 

We  worldly  men,  when  we  see  friends  and  kinsmen 
Past  hope  sunk  in  their  fortunes,  lend  no  hand 
To  lift  them  up,  but  rather  set  our  feet 
Upon  their  heads  to  press  them  to  the  bottom. 
As  I  must  yield  with  you  I  practised  it ; 
But  now  I  see  you  in  a  way  to  rise, 
I  can  and  wiU  assist  you. 

New  Way  to  pay  Old  Debts. 

The  Lord  Keeper  carried  with  him,  to  a  conch  harder  than  he 
was  accustomed  to  stretch  himself  upon,  the  same  ambitious 
thoughts  and  political  perplexities  which  drive  sleep  from  the 
softest  down  that  ever  spread  a  bed  of  state.  He  had  sailed 
long  enough  amid  the  contending  tides  and  currents  of  the 
time  to  be  sensible  of  their  peril,  and  of  the  necessity  of 
trimming  his  vessel  to  the  prevailing  wind,  if  he  would  have 
her  escape  shipwreck  in  the  storm.  The  nature  of  his  talents, 
and  the  timorousness  of  disposition  connected  with  them,  had 
made  him  assume  the  pliability  of  the  versatile  old  Earl  of 
Northampton,  who  explained  the  art  by  wliich  he  kept  his 
ground  during  all  the  changes  of  state,  from  the  reign  of 
Henry  VIII.  to  that  of  Elizabeth,  by  the  frank  avowal,  that 
he  was  born  of  the  willov/,  not  of  the  oak.  It  had  accordingly 
been  Sir  William  Ashton^s  policy,  on  all  occasions,  to  watch 
the  changes  in  the  political  horizon,  and,  ere  yet  the  conflict 
was  decided,  to  negotiate  some  interest  for  himself  with  the 
party  most  likely  to  prove  victorious.  His  time-serving  dis- 
position was  well  known,  and  excited  the  contempt  of  the 
more  daring  leaders  of  both  factions  in  the  state.  But  his 
talents  were  of  a  useful  and  practical  kind,  and  his  legal 
knowledge  held  in  high  estimation  ;  and  they  so  far  counter- 
balanced other  deficiencies  that  those  in  power  were  glad  to 
use  and  to  reward,  though  without  absolutely  trusting  or 
greatly  respecting,  him. 

The  Marquis  of  A had  used  his  utmost  influence  to 

effect  a  change  in  the  Scottish  cabinet,  and  his  schemes  had 
been  of  late  so  well  laid  and  so  ably  supported,  that  there 
appeared  a  very  great  chance  of  his  proving  ultimately  suc- 

236, 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  137 

cessf ul.  He  did  uot,  however,  feel  so  strong  or  so  confident 
us  to  neglect  any  means  of  drawing  recruits  to  his  standard. 
The  acquisition  of  the  Lord  Keeper  was  deemed  of  some 
importance,  and  a  friend,  perfectly  acquainted  with  his  cir- 
cumstances and  character,  became  responsible  for  his  political 
conversion. 

When  this  gentleman  arrived  at  Eavenswood  Castle  upon 
a  visit,  the  real  purpose  of  wliich  was  disguised  under  general 
courtesy,  he  found  the  prevailing  fear  which  at  present  beset 
the  Lord  Keeper  was  that  of  danger  to  his  own  person  from 
the  Master  of  Ravenswood.  The  language  which  the  blind 
sibyl,  Old  Alice,  had  used ;  the  sudden  appearance  of  the 
Master,  armed,  and  within  his  precincts,  immediately  after 
he  had  been  warned  against  danger  from  him  ;  the  cold  and 
liaughty  return  received  in  exchange  for  the  acknowledg- 
ments with  which  he  loaded  him  for  his  timely  protection, 
had  all  made  a  strong  imjDression  on  his  imagination. 

So  soon  as  the  Marquis's  political  agent  found  how  the 
wind  sat,  he  began  to  insinuate  fears  and  doubts  of  another 
kind,  scarce  less  calculated  to  alTect  the  Lord  Keeper.  He 
inquired  with  seeming  interest,  Avhether  the  proceedings  in 
Sir  William's  complicated  litigation  with  the  Ravenswood 
family  were  out  of  court,  and  settled  without  the  possibility 
of  appeal.  The  Lord  Keeper  answered  in  the  affirmative ; 
but  his  interrogator  was  too  well  informed  to  be  imposed  upon. 
He  pointed  out  to  him,  by  unanswerable  arguments,  that 
some  of  the  most  important  points  which  had  been  decided 
in  his  favor  against  the  house  of  Ravenswood  were  liable, 
under  the  Treaty  of  Union,  to  be  reviewed  by  the  British 
House  of  Peers,  a  court  of  equity  of  which  the  Lord  Keeper 
felt  an  instinctive  dread.  This  course  came  instead  of  an 
appeal  to  the  old  Scottish  Parliament,  or,  as  it  was  technically 
termed,  "a  protestation  for  remeid  in  law.  " 

The  Lord  Keeper,  after  he  had  for  some  time  disputed  the 
legality  of  such  a  proceeding,  was  compelled,  at  length,  to 
comfort  himself  with  the  improbability  of  the  young  Master 
of  Ravenswood's  finding  friends  in  parliament  capable  of 
stirring  in  so  weighty  an  affair. 

"Do  not  comfort  yourself  with  that  false  hope, "  said  his 
wily  friend  ;  "it  is  possible  that,  in  the  next,  session  of  Parlia- 
ment, young  Ravenswood  may  find  more  friends  and  favor 
even  than  your  lordship." 

"That  would  be  a  sight  worth  seeing,"  said  the  Keeper, 
scornfully. 

''And  yet,"  said  his  friend,  "  such  things  have  been  seen 


138  W AVE  RLE  Y  NOVELS 

ere  now,  and  in  our  own  time.  There  are  many  at  the  head 
of  alfairs  even  now  that  a  few  years  ago  were  under  hiding 
for  tlieir  lives  ;  and  many  a  man  now  dines  on  plate  of  silver 
that  was  fain  to  eat  his  crowdy  without  a  bicker  ;  and  many 
a  high  head  has  been  brought  full  low  among  us  in  as  short 
a  space.  Scott  of  Scotstarvet's  Staggering  State  of  Scots 
Statesmen,  of  which  curious  memoir  you  showed  me  a  manu- 
script, has  been  outstaggered  in  our  time." 

The  Lord  Keeper  answered  with  a  deep  sigh,  "That 
these  mutations  were  no  new  sights  in  Scotland,  and  had  been 
witnessed  long  before  the  time  of  the  satirical  author  he  had 
quoted.  It  was  many  a  long  year,"  he  said,  "^  since  Fordun 
had  quoted  as  an  ancient  proverb,  '  Neque  dives,  neque  for- 
tis,  sed  nee  sapiens  Scotus,  prcedominante  invidia,  diu  du- 
rahit  in  terra.'" 

"  And  be  assured,  my  esteemed  friend,"  was  the  answer, 
"  that  even  your  long  services  to  the  state,  or  deep  legal 
knowledge,  will  not  save  you,  or  render  your  estate  stable,  if 

the  Marquis  of  A comes  in  with  a  party  in  the  British 

Parliament.  You  know  that  the  deceased  Lord  Eavenswood 
was  his  near  ally,  his  lady  being  fifth  in  descent  from  the 
Knight  of  Tillibardine  ;  and  I  am  well  assured  that  he  will 
take  young  Eavenswood  by  the  hand,  and  be  his  very  good 
lord  and  kinsman.  Why  should  he  not  ?  The  Master  is  an 
active  and  stirring  young  fellow,  able  to  help  himself  with 
tongue  and  hands  ;  and  it  is  such  as  he  that  finds  friends 
among  their  kindred,  and  not  those  unarmed  and  unable  Me- 
phibosheths  that  are  sure  to  be  a  burden  to  every  one  that 
takes  them  up.  And  so,  if  these  Eavenswood  cases  be  called 
over  the  coals  in  the  House  of  Peers,  you  will  find  that  the 
Marquis  will  have  a  crow  to  pluck  with  you." 

"  That  would  be  an  evil  requital,"  said  the  Lord  Keeper, 
"  for  my  long  services  to  the  state,  and  the  ancient  respect  in 
which  I  have  held  his  lordship^s  honorable  family  and  per- 
son." 

'^'^  Ay,  but,"  rejoined  the  agent  of  the  Marquis, ''it  is  in 
rain  to  look  back  on  past  service  and  auld  respect,  my  lord  ; 
it  will  be  present  service  and  immediate  proofs  of  regard 
which,  in  these  sliddery  times,  will  be  expected  by  a  man 
like  the  Marquis." 

The  Lord  Keeper  now  saw  the  full  drift  of  his  friend's 
argument,  but  he  was  too  cautious  to  return  any  positive 
answer. 

"  He  knew  not,"  he  said,  "the  service  which  the  Lord 
Marquis  could  expect  from  one  of  his  limited  abilities,  that 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  138 

had  not  always  stood  at  his  command,  still  saving  and  re- 
serving his  duty  to  his  king  and  country." 

Having  thus  said  nothing,  while  he  seemed  to  say  every- 
thing, for  the  exception  was  calculated  to  cover  whatever  he 
might  afterwards  think  proper  to  bring  under  it.  Sir  William 
Ashton  changed  the  conversation,  nor  did  he  agaiii  permit 
the  same  topic  to  be  introduced.  His  guest  departed,  with- 
out having  brought  the  wily  old  statesman  the  length  of  com- 
mitting himself,  or  of  pledging  himself  to  any  future  line  of 
conduct,  but  with  the  certainty  that  he  had  alarmed  his  fears 
in  a  most  sensible  point,  and  laid  a  foundation  for  future  and 
farther  treaty. 

When  he  rendered  an  account  of  his  negotiation  to  the 
Marquis,  they  both  agreed  that  the  Keeper  ought  not  to  be 
permitted  to  relapse  into  security,  and  that  he  should  be 
plied  with  new  subjects  of  alarm,  especially  during  the  ab- 
sence of  his  lady.  They  were  well  aware  that  her  proud, 
vindictive,  and  predominating  spirit  would  be  likely  to  supply 
him  with  tiie  courage  in  which  he  was  deficient ;  that  she 
was  immovably  attached  to  the  party  now  in  power,  with  whom 
she  maintained  a  close  correspondence  and  alliance  ;  and  that 
she  hated,  without  fearing,  the  Eavenswood  family  (whose 
more  ancient  dignity  threw  discredit  on  the  newly-acquired 
grandeur  of  her  husband)  to  such  a  degree,  that  she  would 
have  perilled  the  interest  of  her  own  house  to  have  the  pros- 
pect of  altogether  crushing  that  of  her  enemy. 

But  Lady  Ashton  was  now  absent.  The  business  which 
had  long  detained  her  in  Edinburgh  had  afterwards  induced 
her  to  travel  to  London,  not  without  the  hope  that  she  might 
contribute  her  share  to  disconcert  the  intrigues  of  the  Marquis 
at  court ;  for  she  stood  high  in  favor  with  the  celebrated  Sarah 
Duchess  of  Marlborougli,  to  whom,  in  point  of  character,  she 
bore  considerable  resemblance.  It  was  necessary  to  press  her 
husband  hard  before  her  return  ;  and,  as  a  preparatory  step, 
the  Marquis  wrote  to  the  Master  of  Eavenswood  the  letter 
which  we  rehearsed  in  a  former  chapter.  It  was  cautiously 
worded,  so  as  to  leave  it  in  the  power  of  the  writer  hereafter 
to  take  as  deep  or  as  slight  an  interest  in  the  fortunes  of  his 
kinsman  as  the  progress  of  his  own  schemes  might  require. 
But  however  unwilling,  as  a  statesman,  the  Marquis  might 
be  to  commit  himself,  or  assume  the  character  of  a  patron, 
while  he  had  nothing  to  give  away,  it  must  be  said  to  his 
honor  that  he  felt  a  strong  inclination  effectually  to  befriend 
the  Master  of  Eavenswood,  as  well  as  to  use  his  name  as  a 
means  of  alarming  the  terrors  of  the  Lord  Keeper. 


140  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

As  the  messenger  wlio  carried  this  letter  was  to  pass  near 
the  house  of  the  Lord  Keeper,  he  had  it  in  direction  that,  in 
the  village  adjoining  to  the  park-gate  of  the  castle,  his  horse 
should  lose  a  shoe,  and  that,  while  it  was  replaced  by  the 
smith  of  the  place,  he  should  express  the  utmost  regret  for 
the  necessary  loss  of  time,  and  in  the  vehemence  of  his  im- 
patience give  it  to  be  understood  that  he  was  bearing  a  mes- 
sage from  the  Marquis  of  A to  the  Master  of  Ravenswood 

upon  a  matter  of  life  and  death. 

This  news,  with  exaggerations,  was  speedily  carried  from 
various  quarters  to  the  ears  of  the  Lord  Keeper,  and  each  re- 
porter dwelt  upon  the  extreme  impatience  of  the  courier, 
and  the  surprising  short  time  in  which  he  had  executed  his 
journey.  The  anxious  statesman  heard  in  silence  ;  but  in 
private  Lockhard  received  orders  to  watch  the  courier  on  his 
return,  to  waylay  him  in  the  village,  to  ply  him  with  liquor, 
if  possible,  and  to  use  all  means,  fair  or  foul,  to  learn  the 
contents  of  the  letter  of  which  he  was  the  bearer.  But  as 
this  i^lot  had  been  foreseen,  the  messenger  returned  by  a  dif- 
ferent and  distant  road,  and  thus  escaped  the  snare  that  was 
laid  for  him. 

After  he  had  been  in  vain  expected  for  some  time,  Mr. 
Dingwall  had  orders  to  make  especial  inquiry  among  his 
clients  of  Wolf's  Hope,  whether  such  a  domestic  belonging  to 

the  Marquis  of  A had  actually  arrived  at  the  neighboring 

castle.  This  was  easily  ascertained  ;  for  Caleb  had  been  in 
the  village  one  morning  by  five  o'clock,  to  borrow  "twa  chap- 
pins  of  ale  and  a  kipper  "  for  the  messenger's  refreshment,  and 
the  poor  fellow  had  been  ill  for  twenty-four  hours  at  Luckie 
Sma'trash's,  in  consequence  of  dining  upon  "sautsaumon  and 
sour  drink."  So  that  the  existence  of  a  correspondence 
betwixt  the  Marquis  and  his  distressed  kinsman,  which  Sir 
William  Ashton  had  sometimes  treated  as  a  bugbear,  was  proved 
beyond  the  possibility  of  farther  doubt. 

The  alarm  of  the  Lord  Keeper  became  very  serious  ;  since 
the  Claim  of  Right,  the  power  of  appealing  from  the  decisions 
of  the  civil  court  to  the  Estates  of  Parliament,  which  had 
formerly  been  held  incompetent,  had  in  many  instances  been 
claimed,  and  in  some  allowed,  and  he  had  no  small  reason  to 
apprehend  the  issue,  if  the  English  House  of  Lords  should  be 
disposed  to  act  upon  an  appeal  from  the  Master  of  Ravenswood 
"for  remeid  in  law."  It  would  resolve  into  an  equitable 
claim,  and  be  decided,  perhaps,  upon  the  broad  principles  of 
justice,  which  were  not  quite  so  favorable  to  the  Lord  Keeper 
as  those  of  strict  law.     Besides,  judging,  though  most  inac- 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  141 

curately,  from  courts  which  lie  hud  liimself  known  in  the  un- 
happy times  preceding  the  Scottish  Union,  the  Keeper  might 
have  too  much  right  to  think  that,  in  the  House  to  which  his 
lawsuits  were  to  be  transferred,  the  old  maxim  might  prevail 
which  was  too  well  recognized  in  Scotland  in  former  times — 
''Show  me  the  man,  and  I'll  show  you  the  law."  The  high 
and  unbiassed  character  of  English  judicial  proceedings  was 
then  little  known  in  Scotland,  and  tlie  extension  of  them  to 
that  country  was  one  of  the  most  valuable  advantages  which  it 
gained  by  the  Union.  But  this  was  a  blessing  which  the  Lord 
Keeper,  who  had  lived  under  another  system,  could  not  have 
the  means  of  foreseeing.  In  the  loss  of  his  political  conse- 
quence, he  anticipated  the  loss  of  his  lawsuit.  Meanwhile^ 
every  report  which  reached  him  served  to  render  the  success* 
of  the  Marquis's  intrigues  the  more  probable,  and  the  Lord 
Keeper  began  to  think  it  indispensable  that  he  should  look 
round  for  some  kind  of  protection  against  the  coming  storm. 
The  timidity  of  his  temper  induced  him  to  adopt  measures  oi 
compromise  and  conciliation.  The  affair  of  the  wild  bull, 
properly  managed,  might,  he  thought,  be  made  to  facilitate  a 
personal  communication  and  reconciliation  betwixt  the  Master 
and  himself.  He  would  then  learn,  if  possible,  what  his  own 
ideas  were  of  the  extent  of  his  rights,  and  the  means  of  en- 
forcing them  ;  and  perhaps  matters  might  be  brought  to  a 
compromise,  where  one  party  was  wealthy  and  the  other  so 
very  poor.  A  reconciliation  with  Ravenswood  was  likely  to 
give  him  an  opportunity  to  play  his  own  game  with  the  Mar- 
quis of  A .     "  And  besides,"  said  he  to  himself,  "  it  will 

be  an  act  of  generosity  to  raise  up  the  heir  of  this  distressed 
family ;  and  if  he  is  to  be  warmly  and  effectually  befriended 
by  the  new  government,  who  knows  but  my  virtue  may  prove 
its  own  reward  ?  " 

Thus  thought  Sir  William  Ashton,  covering  with  no  un- 
usual self-delusion  his  interested  views  with  a  hue  of  virtue  ; 
and  having  attained  this  point,  his  fancy  strayed  still  farther. 
He  began  to  bethink  himself,  "That  if  Ravenswood  was  to 
have  a  distinguished  place  of  power  and  trust,  and  if  such  a 
union  would  sopite  the  heavier  part  of  his  unadjusted  claims, 
there  might  be  worse  matches  for  his  daughter  Lucy  :  the 
Master  might  be  reponed  against  the  attainder.  Lord 
Ravenswood  was  an  ancient  title,  and  the  alliance  would,  in 
some  measure,  legitimate  his  own  possession  of  the  greater 
part  of  the  Master's  spoils,  and  make  the  surrender  of  the 
rest  a  subject  of  less  bitter  regret." 

With  these  mingled  and  multifarious  plans  occupying  his 


143  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

head,  the  Lord  Keeper  availed  himself  of  my  Lord  Bittle- 
brains's  repeated  invitation  to  his  residence,  and  thus  came 
within  a  very  few  miles  of  Wolf's  Crag.  Here  he  found  the 
lord  of  the  mansion  absent,  but  was  courteously  received  by 
the  lady,  who  expected  her  husband's  immediate  return. 
She  expressed  her  particular  delight  at  seeing  Miss  Ashton, 
and  appointed  the  hounds  to  be  taken  out  for  the  Lord 
Keeper's  special  amusement.  He  readily  entered  into  the 
proposal,  as  giving  him  an  opportunity  to  reconnoitre  Wolf's 
Crag,  and  perhaps  to  make  some  acquaintance  with  the  owner, 
if  he  should  be  tempted  from  his  desolate  mansion  by  the 
chase.  Lockhard  had  his  orders  to  endeavor  on  his  part  to 
make  some  acquaintance  Avith  the  inmates  of  the  castle,  and 
we  have  seen  how  he  played  his  part. 

The  accidental  storm  did  more  to  further  the  Lord 
Keeper's  plan  of  forming  a  j^ersonal  acquaintance  with  young 
Raveuswood  than  his  most  sanguine  expectations  could  have 
anticipated.  His  fear  of  the  young  nobleman's  personal  re- 
sentment had  greatly  decreased  since  he  considered  him  as 
formidable  from  his  legal  claims  and  the  means  he  might  have 
of  enforcing  them.  But  although  he  thought,  not  unreason- 
ably, that  only  desperate  circumstances  drove  men  on  desper- 
ate measures,  it  was  not  without  a  secret  terror,  which  shook 
his  heart  within  him,  that  he  first  felt  himself  inclosed  with- 
in the  desolate  Tower  of  Wolf's  Crag ;  a  place  so  well  fitted, 
from  solitude  and  strength,  to  be  a  scene  of  violence  and 
vengeance.  The  stern  reception  at  first  given  to  them  by  the 
Master  of  Eavenswood,  and  the  difficulty  he  felt  in  explaining 
to  that  injured  nobleman  what  guests  were  under  the  shelter 
of  his  roof,  did  not  soothe  these  alarms ;  so  that,  when  Sir 
William  Ashton  heard  the  door  of  the  courtyard  shut  behind 
him  with  violence,  the  words  of  Alice  rung  in  his  ears,  ''  That 
he  had  drawn  on  matters  too  hardly  with  so  fierce  a  race  as 
those  of  Eavenswood,  and  that  they  would  bide  their  time  to 
be  avenged." 

The  subsequent  frankness  of  the  Master's  hospitality,  as 
their  acquaintance  increased,  abated  the  apprehensions  these 
recollections  were  calculated  to  excite ;  and  it  did  not  escape 
Sir  William  Ashton,  that  it  was  to  Lucy's  grace  and  beauty 
he  owed  the  change  in  their  host's  behavior. 

All  these  thoughts  thronged  upon  him  when  he  took  pos- 
session of  the  secret  chamber.  The  iron  lamp,  the  unfur- 
nished apartment,  more  resembling  a  prison  than  a  place  of 
ordinary  repose,  the  hoarse  and  ceaseless  sound  of  the  waves 
rushing  against  the  base  of  the  rock  on  which  the  castle  was 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  148 

founded,  saddened  and  perplexed  his  mind.  To  hi.^  own 
successful  machinations,  the  ruin  of  the  family  liad  been  in  a 
great  measure  owing,  but  his  disposition  was  crafty,  and  not 
cruel ;  so  tliat  actually  to  witness  the  desolation  and  distress 
he  had  himself  occasioned  was  as  painful  to  him  as  it  would 
be  to  tlie  humane  mistress  of  a  family  to  superintend  in  person 
the  execution  of  the  lambs  and  poultry  which  are  killed  by 
her  own  directions.  At  the  same  time,  when  he  thought  of 
the  alternative  of  restoring  to  Ravenswood  a  large  p^-oportion 
of  his  spoils,  or  of  adopting,  as  an  ally  and  member  of  his 
own  family,  the  heir  of  this  impoverished  house,  he  felt  as 
the  spider  may  be  supposed  to  do  when  his  whole  web,  the 
intricacies  of  which  had  been  planned  with  so  much  art,  is 
destroyed  by  the  chance  sweep  of  a  broom.  And  then,  if  he 
should  commit  himself  too  far  in  this  matter,  it  gave  rise  to 
a  perilous  question,  which  many  a  good  husband,  when  under 
temptation  to  act  as  a  free  agent,  has  asked  himself  without 
being  able  to  return  a  satisfactory  answer — "  What  will  my 
wife — what  will  Lady  Ashton  say  ?"  On  the  whole,  he  came 
at  length  to  the  resolution  in  which  minds  of  a  weaker  cast 
so  often  take  refuge.  He  resolved  to  watch  events,  to  take 
advantage  of  circumstances  as  they  occurred,  and  regulate 
his  conduct  accordingly.  In  this  spirit  of  temporizing  policy, 
he  at  length  composed  his  mind  to  rest. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

A  slight  note  I  have  about  me  for  you,  for  the  delivery  of  which 
you  must  excuse  me.  It  is  an  offer  that  friendship  calls  upon 
me  to  do,  and  no  way  offensive  to  you,  since  I  desire  nothing 
but  right  upon  both  sides. 

King  and  no  King. 

When  Ravenswood  and  his  gnest  met  in  the  morning,  the 
gloom  of  the  Master^s  spirit  had  in  part  returned.  He,  also, 
had  passed  a  night  rather  of  reflection  than  of  slumber  ;  and 
the  feelings  which  he  could  not  but  entertain  towards  Lucy 
Ashton  had  to  support  a  severe  conflict  against  those  which 
he  had  so  long  nourished  against  her  father.  To  clasp  in 
friendship  the  hand  of  the  enemy  of  his  house,  to  entertain 
him  under  his  roof,  to  exchange  with  him  the  courtesies  and 
the  kindness  of  domestic  familiarity,  was  a  degradation  which 
his  proud  spirit  could  not  be  bent  to  without  a  struggle. 

But  the  ice  being  once  broken,  the  Lord  Keeper  was  re- 
solved it  should  not  have  time  again  to  freeze.  It  had  been 
part  of  his  plan  to  stun  and  confuse  Ravenswood^s  ideas,  by 
a  complicated  and  technical  statement  of  the  matters  which 
had  been  in  debate  betwixt  their  families,  justly  thinking  that 
it  would  be  difficult  for  a  youth  of  his  age  to  follow  the  ex- 
positions of  a  practical  lawyer,  concerning  actions  of  compt 
and  reckoning,  and  of  multiplepoindings,  and  adjudications 
and  wadsets,  proper  and  improper,  and  poindings  of  the 
ground,  and  declarations  of  the  expiry  of  the  legal.  "Thus," 
thought  Sir  William,  "  I  shall  have  all  the  grace  of  appearing 
perfectly  communicative,  while  my  party  will  derive  very  little 
advantage  from  anything  I  may  tell  him."  He  therefore  took 
Ravenswood  aside  into  the  deep  recess  of  a  window  in  the 
hall,  and  resuming  the  discourse  of  the  preceding  evening, 
expressed  a  hope  that  his  young  friend  would  assume  some 
patience,  in  order  to  hear  him  enter  into  a  minute  and  ex- 
planatory detail  of  those  unfortunate  circumstances  in  which 
his  late  honorable  father  had  stood  at  variance  with  the  Lord 
Keeper.  The  Master  of  Ravenswood  colored  highly,  but  was 
silent  ;  and  the  Lord  Keeper,  though  not  greatly  approving 
the  sudden  heightening  of  his  auditor's  complexion,  com- 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  143 

menced  the  history  of  a  bond  for  twenty  thousand  nierks,  ad- 
vanced by  his  father  to  the  father  of  Allan  Lord  Ravens  wood, 
and  was  proceedirig  to  detail  the  executorial  proceedings  by 
which  this  large  sum  had  been  rendered  a  debitum  fundi, 
when  he  was  interrupted  by  the  Master, 

''  It  is  not  in  this  place/'  he  said,  "  that  I  can  hear  Sir 
William  Asliton's  explanation  of  the  matters  in  question  be- 
tween us.  It  is  not  here,  where  my  father  died  of  a  broken 
heart,  that  1  can  with  decency  or  temper  investigate  the  cause 
of  his  distress.  I  might  remember  that  I  was  a  son,  and  for- 
get the  duties  of  a  host.  A  time,  however,  there  must  come, 
when  these  things  shall  be  discussed  in  a  place  and  in  a  pres- 
ence where  both  of  us  will  have  equal  freedom  to  speak  and 
to  liear." 

"  Any  time,"  the  Lord  Keeper  said,  "  any  place,  was  alike 
to  those  who  sought  nothing  but  justice.  Yet  it  would  seem 
he  was,  in  fairness,  entitled  to  some  premonition  respecting 
the  grounds  upon  which  the  Master  proposed  to  impugn  the 
whole  train  of  legal  proceedings,  which  had  been  so  well  and 
ripely  advised  in  the  only  courts  competent." 

"  Sir  William  Ashton,"  answered  the  Master,  with  warmth, 
''the  lauds  which  you  now  occupy  were  granted  to  my  remote 
ancestor  for  services  done  with  his  sword  against  the  Englisli 
invaders.  How  they  have  glided  from  us  by  a  train  of  pro 
ceedings  that  seem  to  be  neither  sale,  nor  mortgage,  nor  ad- 
judication for  debt,  but  a  nondescript  and  entangled  mixture 
of  all  tliese  rights  ;  how  annual  rent  has  been  accumulated 
upon  principal,  and  no  nook  or  coign  of  legal  advantage  left 
unaccLipied,  until  our  interest  in  our  hereditary  property  seems 
to  have  melted  away  like  an  icicle  in  thaw — all  this  you  un- 
derstand better  than  I  do.  I  am  willing,  however,  to  suppose,, 
from  the  frankness  of  your  conduct  towards  me,  that  I  may 
in  a  great  measure  have  mistaken  your  personal  character,  and 
that  things  may  have  appeared  right  and  fitting  to  you,  a 
skilful  and  practiced  lawyer,  which  to  my  ignorant  under- 
standing seem  very  little  short  of  injustice  and  gross  oppres- 
sion." 

''And  you,  my  dear  Master,"  answered  Sir  William — 
"  you,  permit  me  to  say,  have  been  equally  misrepresented 
to  me.  I  was  taught  to  believe  you  a  fierce,  imperious,  hot- 
headed youth,  ready,  at  the  slightest  provocation,  to  throw 
your  sword  into  the  scales  of  justice,  and  to  appeal  to  those 
rude  and  forcible  measures  from  which  civil  polity  has  long 
protected  the  people  of  Scotland.  Then,  since  we  were  mu- 
tually mistaken  in  each  other,  why  should  not  the  young 


146  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

nobleman  be  willing  to  listen  to  the  old  lawyer,  while,  at  least, 
he  explains  the  points  of  dilference  betwixt  them  ?  " 

•'No,  my  lord,"  answered  Ravenswood  ;  "it  is  in  the 
House  of  British  Peers,*  whose  honor  must  be  equal  to  their 
rank — it  is  in  the  court  of  last  resort  that  we  must  parley  to- 
gether. The  belted  lords  of  Britain,  her  ancient  peers,  must 
decide,  if  it  is  their  will  that  a  liouse,  not  the  least  noble  of 
their  members,  shall  be  stripped  of  their  possessions,  the  re- 
ward of  the  patriotism  of  generations,  as  the  pawn  of  a 
wretched  mechanic  becomes  forfeit  to  the  usurer  the  instant 
the  hour  of  redemption  has  passed  away.  If  they  yield  to  the 
grasping  severity  of  the  creditor,  and  to  the  gnawing  usury 
that  eats  into  our  lands  as  moths  into  a  raiment,  it  will  be  of 
more  evil  consequence  to  tliem  and  their  posterity  than  to  Ed- 
gar Ravenswood.  I  shall  still  have  my  sword  and  my  cloak, 
and  can  follow  the  profession  of  arms  wherever  a  trumpet 
shall  sound."' 

As  he  pronounced  these  words,  in  a  firm  yet  melancholy 
tone,  he  raised  his  eyes,  and  suddenly  encountered  those  of 
Lucy  Ashton,  who  had  stolen  unawares  on  their  interview, 
and  observed  her  looks  fastened  on  them  with  an  expression 
of  enthusiastic  interest  and  admiration,  which  had  wrapped  her 
for  the  moment  beyond  the  fear  of  discovery.  The  noble  form 
and  fine  features  of  Ravenswood,  fired  with  the  pride  of  birth 
and  sense  of  internal  dignity,  the  mellow  and  expressive  tones 
of  his  voice,  the  desolate  state  of  his  fortunes,  and  the  indif- 
ference with  which  he  seemed  to  endure  and  to  dare  the  worst 
that  might  befall,  rendered  him  a  dangerous  object  of  con- 
templation for  a  maiden  already  too  much  disposed  to  dwell 
upon  recollections  connected  with  him.  When  their  eyes  en- 
countered each  other,  both  blushed  deeply,  conscious  of  some 
strong  internal  emotion,  and  shunned  again  to  meet  each 
other's  look. 

Sir  William  Ashton  had,  of  course,  closely  watched  the 
expression  of  their  countenances.  "I  need  fear,"  said  he  in- 
ternally, ''neither  Parliament  nor  protestation;  I  have  an 
effectual  mode  of  reconciling  myself  with  this  hot-tempered 
young  fellow,  in  case  he  shall  become  formidable.  The  present 
object  is,  at  all  events,  to  avoid  committing  ourselves.  The 
hook  is  fixed ;  we  will  not  strain  the  line  too  soon :  it  is  as 
well  to  reserve  the  privilege  of  slipping  it  loose,  if  we  do  not 
find  the  fish  worth  landing." 

In  this  selfish  and  cruel  calculation  upon  the  supposed  at- 
tachment of  Ravenswood  to  Lucy,  he  was  so  far  from  consid- 

*  See  Appeal  to  Parliament.    Note  7. 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  147 

ering  the  pain  he  might  give  to  the  former,  by  thus  dallying 
with  his  affections,  that  he  even  did  not  think  upon  the  risk 
of  involving  his  own  daughter  in  the  perils  of  an  unfortunate 
passion  ;  as  if  her  predilection,  which  could  not  escape  his 
attention,  Avere  like  the  flame  of  a  taper,  which  might  be 
lighted  or  extinguished  at  pleasure.  But  Providence  had 
prepared  a  dreadful  requital  for  this  keen  observer  of  human 
passions,  who  had  spent  his  life  in  securing  advantages  to 
himself  by  artfully  working  upon  the  passions  of  others, 

Caleb  Balderstone  now  came  to  aniiounce  that  breakfast 
was  prepared  ;  for  in  those  days  of  substantial  feeding,  the 
relics  of  the  supper  amply  furnished  forth  the  morning  meal. 
Neither  did  he  forget  to  present  to  the  Lord  Keeper,  with 
great  reverence,  a  morning  draught  in  a  large  pewter  cup, 
garnished  with  leaves  of  parsley  and  scurvy-grass.  He  craved 
pardon,  of  course,  for  having  omitted  to  serve  it  in  the  great 
silver  standing.cup  as  behoved,  being  that  it  was  at  present 
in  a  silversmith's  in  Edinburgh,  for  the  purpose  of  being 
overlaid  with  gilt. 

""  In  Edinburgh  like  enough,''  said  Eavenswood  ;  "  but  in 
what  place,  or  for  what  purpose,  I  am  afraid  neither  you  nor 
.1  know." 

"  Aweel  !"said  Caleb,  peevishly,  "there's  a  man  standing 
at  the  gate  already  this  m©rning — that's  ae  thing  that  I  ken. 
Does  your  honor  ken  whether  ye  will  speak  wi'  him  or  no  ?" 

''Does  he  wish  to  speak  with  nae,  Caleb  ?" 

''Less  will  no  serve  him,"  said  Caleb  ;  "but  ye  had  best 
take  a  visie  of  him  through  the  wicket  before  opening  the 
gate  ;  it's  no  every  ane  we  suld  let  into  this  castle." 

"  What  !  do  you  suppose  him  to  be  a  messenger  come  to 
arrest  me  for  debt  ? "  said  Eavenswood. 

"A  messenger  arrest  your  honor  for  debt,  and  in  yonr 
Castle  of  AVolf's  Crag  !  Your  honor  is  Jesting  wi'  auld  Caleb 
this  morning."  However,  he  whispered  in  his  ear,  as  he  fol- 
lowed him  out,  "I  would  be  loth  co  do  ony  decent  man  a 
prejudice  in  your  honor's  gude  opinion ;  but  I  would  tak  twa 
looks  o'  that  chield  before  I  let  him  within  these  walls." 

He  was  not  an  officer  of  the  law,  however  ;  being  no  less 
a  person  than  Captain  Craigengelt,  with  his  nose  as  red  as  a 
comfortable  cup  of  brandy  could  make  it,  his  laced  cocked 
hat  set  a  little  aside  upon  the  top  of  his  black  riding  periwig, 
a  sword  by  his  side  and  pistols  at  his  holsters,  and  his  person 
arrayed  in  a  riding  suit,  laid  over  with  tarnished  lace — the 
7ery  moral  of  one  who  would  say,  "  Stand  to  a  true  man." 

When  the  Master  had  recognized  him,  he  ordered  the  gates 


148  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

to  be  opened.  "  I  suppose,"  he  said,  "  Captain  Craigengelt, 
there  are  no  such  weighty  matters  betwixt  you  and  me,  but 
may  be  discussed  in  this  place.  I  have  company  in  the  castle 
at  present,  and  the  terms  upon  which  we  last  parted  must 
excuse  my  asking  you  to  make  part  of  them." 

Craigengelt,  although  possessing  the  very  perfection  of 
impudence,  was  somewhat  abashed  by  this  unfavorable  recep- 
tion. "He  had  no  intention,"  he  said,  "to  force  himself 
upon  the  Master  of  Ravenswood's  hospitality  ;  he  was  in  the 
honorable  service  of  bearing  a  message  to  him  from  a  friend, 
otherwise  the  Master  of  Ravenswood  should  not  have  had 
reason  to  complain  of  this  intrusion." 

"Let  it  be  short,  sir,"  said  the  Master,  "for  that  will  be 
the  best  apology.  Who  is  the  gentleman  who  is  so  fortunate 
as  to  have  your  services  as  a  messenger  ?  " 

"  My  friend,  Mr.  Hayston  of  Bucklaw,"  answered  Craig- 
engelt, with  conscious  importance,  and  that  copfidence  which 
the  acknowledged  courage  of  his  principal  inspired,  "  who 
conceives  himself  to  have  been  treated  by  you  with  something 
much  short  of  the  respect  which  he  had  reason  to  demand, 
and  therefore  is  resolved  to  exact  satisfaction.  I  bring  with 
me,"  said  he,  taking  a  piece  of  paper  out  of  his  pocket,  "  the 
precise  length  of  his  sword  ;  and  he  requests  you  will  meet 
him,  accompanied  by  a  friend,  and  equally  armed,  at  any  place 
within  a  mile  of  the  castle,  when  I  shall  give  attendance  aa 
umpire,  or  second,  on  his  behoof." 

"Satisfaction!  and  equal  arms  !"  repeated  Ravenswood, 
who,  the  reader  will  recollect,  had  no  reason  to  suppose  he 
had  given  the  slightest  offence  to  his  late  inmate  ;  "  upon  my 
word,  Captain  Craigengelt,  either  you  have  invented  the  most 
improbable  falsehood  that  ever  came  into  the  mind  of  such  a 
person,  or  your  morning  draught  has  been  somewhat  of  the 
strongest.  What  could  persuade  Bucklaw  to  send  me  such  a 
message  ?" 

"For  that,  sir,"  replied  Craigengelt,  "I  am  desired  to 
refer  you  to  what,  in  duty  to  my  friend,  I  am  to  term  your 
inhospitality  in  excluding  him  from  your  house,  without 
reasons  assigned." 

"  It  is  impossible,"  replied  the  Master;  "he  cannot  be 
such  a  fool  as  to  interpret  actual  necessity  as  an  insult.  Nor 
do  I  believe  that,  knowing  my  opinion  of  you.  Captain,  he 
would  have  employed  the  services  of  so  slight  and  inconsider- 
able a  person  as  yourself  upon  such  an  errand,  as  I  certainly 
could  expect  no  man  of  honor  to  act  with  you  in  the  ofl&ce  of 
ampire. 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMER3I00R  148 

"I  slight  and  inconsiderable  !"  said  Craigengelt,  raising 
his  voice,  and  laying  his  hand  on  his  cutlass  ;  **  if  it  were  not 
that  the  quarrel  of  my  friend  craves  the  precedence,  and  is  in 
dependence  before  my  own,  I  would  give  you  to  under- 
stand  " 

"  I  can  understand  nothing  upon  your  explanation.  Cap- 
tain Craigengelt.  Be  satisfied  of  that,  and  oblige  me  with 
your  departure/^ 

"  D n  !"  muttered  the  bully  ;  '''and  is  this  the  answer 

which  I  am  to  carry  back  to  an  honorable  message  ?  " 

"  Tell  the  Laird  of  Bucklaw,"  answered  Eavenswood,  "  if 
you  are  really  sent  by  him,  that,  when  he  sends  me  his  cause 
of  grievance  by  a  person  fitting  to  carry  such  an  errand  be- 
twixt him  and  me,  I  will  either  explain  it  or  maintain  \i." 

"Then,  Master,  you  will  at  least  cause  to  be  returned  to 
Hayston,  by  my  hands,  his  property  which  is  remaining  in 
your  possession." 

"  Whatever  property  Bucklaw  may  have  left  behind  him, 
sir,"  replied  the  Master,  "shall  be  returned  to  him  by  my 
servant,  as  you  do  not  show  me  any  credentials  from  him 
which  entitle  you  to  receive  it." 

"  Well,  Master,"  said  Captain  Craigengelt,  with  malice 
which  even  his  fear  of  the  consequences  could  not  suppress, 
*'you  have  this  morning  done  me  an  egregious  wrong  and 
dishonor,  but  far  more  to  yourself.  A  castle  indeed!"  he 
continued,  looking  around  him  ;  "why,  this  is  worse  than  a 
coupe-gorge  house,  where  they  receive  travellers  to  plunder 
them  of  their  property." 

"You  insolent  rascal,"  said  the  Master,  raising  his  cane, 
and  making  a  grasp  at  the  Captain^s  bridle,  "  if  you  do  not 
depart  without  uttering  another  syllable,  I  will  batoon  you 
to  death  ! " 

At  the  motion  of  the  Master  towards  him,  the  bully  turned 
BO  rapidly  round,  that  with  some  difficulty  he  escaped  throw- 
ing down  his  horse,  whose  hoofs  struck  fire  from  the  rocky 
pavement  in  every  direction.  Eecovering  him,  however, 
with  the  bridle,  he  pushed  for  the  gate,  and  rode  sharply  back 
tigain  in  the  direction  of  the  village. 

As  Ravenswood  turned  round  to  leave  the  courtyard  after 
this  dialogue,  he  found  that  the  Lord  Keeper  had  descended 
from  the  hall,  and  witnessed,  though  at  the  distance  prescribed 
by  politeness,  his  interview  with  Craigengelt. 

"I  have  seen,"  said  the  Lord  Keeper,  "that  gentleman^i 
face,  and  at  no  great  distance  of  time ;  his  name  is  Craig — 
Craig — something,  is  it  not  ?  " 


150  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

"  Craigengelt  is  the  fellow's  name/'  said  the  Master,  ^'at 
least  that  by  which  he  passes  at  present/' 

"  Ci*aig-in-guilt/'  said  Caleb,  punning  upon  the  word 
''  craig,"  which  in  Scotch  signifies  throat ;  ''if  he  is  Craig-in- 
guilt  just  now,  he  is  likely  to  be  Craig-iu-peril  as  ony  chield  I 
ever  saw ;  the  loon  has  woodie  written  on  his  very  visnoniy, 
and  I  wad  wager  twa  and  a  plack  that  hemp  plaits  his  cravat 
yet/' 

"You  understand  physiognomy,  good  Mr.  Caleb,"  said 
the  Keeper,  smiling ;  "I  assure  you  the  gentleman  has  been 
near  such  a  consummation  before  now  ;  for  I  most  distinctly 
recollect  that,  upon  occasion  of  a  journey  which  I  made  about 
a  fortnight  ago  to  Edinburgh,  I  saw  Mr.  Craigengelt,  or 
whatever  is  his  name,  undergo  a  severe  examination  before 
the  privy  council." 

"  Upon  what  account  ?"  said  the  Master  of  Ravenswood, 
with  some  interest. 

The  question  led  immediately  to  a  tale  which  the  Lord 
Keeper  had  been  very  anxious  to  introduce,  when  he  could 
find  a  graceful  and  fitting  opportunity.  He  took  hold  of  the 
Master's  arm,  and  led  him  back  towards  the  hall.  "The 
answer  to  your  question,"  he  said,  "  though  it  is  a  ridiculous 
business,  is  only  fit  for  your  own  ear." 

As  they  entered  the  hall,  he  again  took  the  Master  apart 
into  one  of  the  recesses  of  the  window,  where  it  will  be  easilji 
believed  that  Miss  Ashton  did  not  venture  again  to  intrude 
upon  their  conference. 


CHAPTER   XVn 

Here  is  a  father  now, 
Will  truck  hia  daughter  for  a  foreign  venture, 
Make  her  the  stop-gap  to  some  canker'd  feud. 
Or  fling  her  o'er,  like  Jonah,  to  the  fishes, 
To  appease  the  sea  at  highest. 

Anonymous. 

The  Lord  Keeper  opened  his  discourse  with  an  appearance  of 
unconcern,  marking,  however,  very  carefully,  the  effect  of  his 
communication  upon  young  Ravenswood. 

"You  are  aware,"  he  said,  *' my  young  friend,  that  sus- 
picion is  the  natural  vice  of  our  unsettled  times,  and  exijoses 
the  best  and  wisest  of  us  to  the  imposition  of  artful  rascals. 
If  I  had  been  disposed  to  listen  to  such  the  other  day,  or 
even  if  I  had  been  the  wily  politician  which  you  have  been 
taught  to  believe  me,  you.  Master  of  Ravenswood,  instead  of 
being  at  freedom,  and  with  full  liberty  to  solicit  and  act 
against  me  as  you  please,  in  defence  of  what  you  suppose  to 
be  your  rights,  would  have  been  in  the  Castle  of  Edinburgh, 
or  some  other  state  prison  ;  or,  if  you  had  escaped  that 
destiny,  it  must  have  been  by  flight  to  a  foreign  country,  and 
at  the  risk  of  a  sentence  of  fugitation.^' 

"^'My  Lord  Keeper/'  said  the  Master,  "I  think  you  would 
not  jest  on  such  a  subject ;  yet  it  seems  impossible  you  can  be 
in  earnest." 

"Innocence,"  said  the  Lord  Keeper,  *'is  also  confidents 
and  sometimes,  though  very  excusably,  presumptuously  so." 

"I  do  not  understand,"  said  Ravenswood,  "how  a  con- 
sciousness of  innocence  can  be,  in  any  case,  accounted  pre- 
sumptuous." 

"  Imprudent,  at  least,  it  may  be  called,"  said  Sir  William 
Ashton,  "since  it  is  apt  to  lead  us  into  the  mistake  of  sup- 
posing that  sufficiently  evident  to  others  of  which,  in  fact, 
we  are  only  conscious  ourselves.  I  have  known  a  rogue,  for 
this  very  reason,  make  a  better  defence  than  an  innocent  man 
could  have  done  in  the  same  circumstances  of  suspicion. 
Having  no  consciousness  of  innocence  to  support  him,  such  a 
■fellow  applies  himself  to  all  the  advantages  which  the  law 

is: 


152  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

will  afford  him,  and  sometimes — if  his  counsel  be  men  of  tal- 
ent— succeeds  in  compelling  his  judges  to  receive  him  as 
innocent.  I  remember  the  celebrated  case  of  Sir  Coolie  Con- 
diddle  of  Condiddle,  who  was  tried  for  theft  under  trust, 
of  which  all  the  world  knew  him  guilty,  and  yet  was  not 
only  acquitted,  but  lived  to  sit  in  judgment  on  honester 
folk/' 

''Allow  me  to  beg  you  will  return  to  the  point,''  said  the 
Master;  "you  seemed  to  say  that  I  had  suffered  under  some 
suspicion.'' 

*'  Suspicion,  Master  !  Ay,  truly,  and  I  can  show  you  the 
proofs  of  it ;  if  I  happen  only  to  have  them  with  me.  'Here, 
Lockhard."  His  attendant  came.  "  Fetch  me  the  little  pri- 
vate mail  with  the  padlocks,  that  I  recommended  to  your 
particular  charge,  d'ye  hear  ?" 

"  Yes,  my  lord."  Lockhard  vanished  ;  and  the  Keeper 
continued,  as  if  half  speaking  to  himself. 

''I  think  the  papers  are  with  me — I  think  so,  for,  as  I 
was  to  be  in  this  country,  it  was  natural  for  me  to  bring  them 
with  me.  I  have  them,  however,  at  Eavenswood  Castle,  that 
I  am  sure  of  ;  so  perhaps  you  might  condescend " 

Here  Lockhard  entered  and  put  the  leathern  scrutoire,  or 
mail-box,  into  his  hands.  The  Keeper  produced  one  or  two 
papers,  respecting  the  information  laid  before  the  privy 
council  concerning  the  riot,  as  it  was  termed,  at  the  funeral 
of  Allan  Lord  Ravenswood,  and  the  active  share  he  had  him- 
self taken  in  quashing  the  proceedings  against  the  Master. 
These  documents  had  been  selected  with  care,  so  as  to  irri- 
tate the  natural  curiosity  of  Ravenswood  upon  such  a  subject, 
without  gratifying  it,  yet  to  show  that  Sir  AVilliam  Ashton 
had  acted  upon  that  trying  occasion  the  part  of  an  advocate 
and  peacemaker  betwixt  him  and  the  jealous  authorities  of 
the  day.  Having  furnished  his  host  with  such  subjects  for 
examination,  the  Lord  Keeper  went  to  the  breakfast-table, 
and  entered  into  light  conversation,  addressed  partly  to  old 
Caleb,  whose  resentment  against  the  usurper  of  the  Castle  of 
Ravenswood  began  to  be  softened  by  his  familiarity,  and 
partly  to  his  daughter. 

After  perusing  these  papers,  the  Master  of  Ravenswood 
remained  for  a  minute  or  two  with  his  hand  pressed  against 
his  brow,  in  deep  and  profound  meditation.  He  then  again 
ran  his  eye  hastily  over  the  papers,  as  if  desirous  of  discover- 
ing in  them  some  deep  purpose,  or  some  mark  of  fabrication, 
which  had  escaped  him  at  first  perusal.  Apparently  the  sec- 
ond reading  confirmed  the  opinion  which  had  pressed  upon 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  lo3 

liim  at  the  first,  for  he  started  from  tlie  stone  bench  on  which 
lie  was  sitting,  and,  going  to  the  Lord  Keeper,  took  his  hand, 
and,  strongly  pressing  it,  asked  his  pardon  repeatedly  for  the 
injustice  he  had  done  him,  when  it  appeared  he  was  experi- 
encing, at  his  hands,  the  benefit  of  protection  to  liis  person 
and  vindication  to  his  character. 

The  statesman  received  these  acknowledgments  at  first  with 
Avell-feigned  surprise,  and  then  with  an  affectation  of  frank 
cordiality.  The  tears  began  already  to  start  from  Lucy's  blue 
eyes  at  viewing  this  unexpected  and  moving  scene.  To  see 
the  Master,  late  so  haughty  and  reserved,  and  whom  she  had 
always  supposed  the  injured  person,  supplicating  her  father 
for  forgiveness,  was  a  change  at  once  surprising,  flattering, 
and  affecting. 

"  Dry  your  eyes,  Lucy,"  said  her  father  :  '•'  why  should  you 
weep,  because  your  father,  though  a  lawyer,  is  discovered  to  be 
a  fair  and  honorable  man  ?  What  have  you  to  thank  me  for, 
my  dear  Master,"  he  continued,  addressing  Eavenswood,"that 
you  would  not  have  done  in  my  case?  'Smim  cuique  tri- 
buito/wsks  the  Roman  justice,  and  I  learned  it  when  I  studied 
Justinian.  Besides,  have  you  not  overpaid  me  a  thousand 
times,  in  saving  the  life  of  this  dear  child  ?" 

"  Yes,"  answered  the  Master,  in  all  the  remorse  of  self- 
accusation  ;  ''but  the  little  service  /did  was  an  act  of  mere 
brutal  instinct ;  your  defence  of  my  cause,  when  you  knew 
how  ill  I  thought  of  you,  and  how  much  I  was  disposed  to  be 
your  enemy,  was  an  act  of  generous,  manly,  and  considerate 
wisdom." 

"Pshaw  !"  said  the  Lord  Keeper,  ''each  of  us  acted  in 
his  own  way ;  you  as  a  gallant  soldier,  I  as  an  upright  judge 
and  privy-councillor.  We  could  not,  perhaps,  have  changed 
parts  ;  at  least  I  should  have  made  a  very  sorry  tauridor,  and 
you,  my  good  Master,  though  your  cause  is  so  excellent, 
might  have  pleaded  it  perhaps  worse  yourself  than  I  who 
acted  for  you  before  the  council." 

"  My  generous  friend  !"  said  Eavenswood  ;  and  with  that 
brief  word,  which  the  Keeper  had  often  lavished  upon  him, 
but  which  he  himself  now  pronounced  for  the  first  time,  he 
gave  to  his  feudal  enemy  the  full  confidence  of  a  haughty 
but  honorable  heart.  The  Master  had  been  remarked  among 
his  contemporaries  for  sense  and  acuteness,  as  well  as  for  his 
reserved,  pertinacious,  and  irascible  character.  His  prepos- 
sessions accordingly,  however  obstinate,  were  of  a  nature  to 
give  way  before  love  and  gratitude  ;  and  the  real  charms  of 
the  daughter,  joined  to  the  supposed  services  of  the  father. 


164  WA  VERLEY  NOVELS 

cancelled  in  his  memory  the  vows  of  vengeance  which  he  had 
taken  so  deeply  on  the  eve  of  his  father^s  funeral.  But  they 
had  been  heard  and  registered  in  the  book  of  fate. 

Caleb  was  present  at  this  extraordinary  scene,  and  he 
could  conceive  no  other  reason  for  a  proceeding  so  extraordi- 
nary than  an  alliance  betwixt  the  houses,  and  Eavenswood 
Castle  assigned  for  the  young  lady's  dowry.  As  for  Lucy, 
■^vlien  Ravenswood  uttered  the  most  passionate  excuses  for  his 
ungrateful  negligence,  slie  could  but  smile  through  her  tears, 
and,  as  she  abandoned  her  hand  to  him,  assure  him,  in  broken 
accents,  of  the  delight  witli  which  she  beheld  the  complete 
reconciliation  between  her  father  and  her  deliverer.  Even  the 
statesman  was  moved  and  affected  by  the  fiery,  unreserved, 
and  generous  self-abandonment  with  which  the  Master  of 
Ravenswood  renounced  his  feudal  enmity  and  threw  himself 
without  hesitation  upon  his  forgiveness.  His  eyes  glistened 
as  he  looked  upon  a  couple  who  were  obviously  becoming  at- 
tached, and  who  seemed  made  for  each  other.  He  thought 
how  high  the  proud  and  chivalrous  character  of  Eavenswood 
might  rise  under  many  circumstances  in  which  he  found  him- 
self "  overcrowed,"'  to  use  a  phrase  of  Spenser,  and  kept 
under,  by  his  brief  pedigree,  and  timidity  of  disposition. 
Then  his  daughter — his  favorite  child — his  constant  play- 
mate— seemed  formed  to  live  happy  in  a  union  with  such  a 
commanding  spirit  as  Eavenswood  ;  and  even  the  fine,  delicate, 
fragile  form  of  Lucy  Ashton  seemed  to  require  the  support  of 
the  Master's  muscular  strength  and  masculine  character.  And 
it  was  not  merely  during  a  few  minutes  that  Sir  William 
Ashton  looked  upon  their  marriage  as  a  probable  and  even 
desirable  event,  for  a  full  hour  intervened  ere  his  imagination 
was  crossed  by  recollection  of  the  Master's  poverty,  and  the 
sure  displeasure  of  Lady  Ashton.  It  is  certain,  that  the  very 
unusual  flow  of  kindly  feeling  with  which  the  Lord  Keeper  had 
been  tlius  surprised,  was  one  of  the  circumstances  which  gave 
much  tacit  encouragement  to  the  attachment  between  the 
Master  and  his  daughter,  and  led  both  the  lovers  distinctly  to 
believe  that  it  was  a  connection  which  w^ould  be  most  agree- 
able to  him.  He  himself  was  supposed  to  have  admitted  this 
in  efl'ect,  when,  long  after  the  catastrophe  of  their  love,  he 
used  to  warn  his  hearers  against  permitting  their  feelings  to 
obtain  an  ascendency  over  their  judgment,  and  affirm,  that 
the  greatest  misfortune  of  his  life  was  owing  to  a  very  tem- 
porary predominance  of  sensibility  over  self-interest.  It 
must  be  owned,  if  such  was  the  case,  he  was  long  and  seve/'ely 
punished  for  an  offence  of  very  brief  duration. 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  155 

After  some  pause,  the  Lord  Keeper  resumed  the  conver- 
satiou.  •*  111  your  surprise  at  finding  me  an  honester  man 
chau  you  expected,  you  have  lost  your  curiosity  about  this 
Craigengelt,  my  good  Master ;  and  yet  your  name  was 
brought  in,  in  the  course  of  that  matter  too." 

"The  scoundrel!"  said  Ravenswood.  "My  connection 
with  him  was  of  the  most  temporary  nature  possible  ;  and 
yet  I  was  very  foolish  to  hold  any  communication  with  him  at 
all.     What  did  he  say  of  me  ?" 

"  Enough,''  said  the  Keeper,  *'  to  excite  the  very  loyal 
terrors  of  some  of  our  sages,  who  are  for  proceeding  against 
men  on  the  mere  grounds  of  suspicion  or  mercenary  informa- 
tion. Some  nonsense  about  your  proposing  to  enter  into  the 
service  of  France,  or  of  the  Pretender,  I  don't  recollect  which, 

but  which  the  Marquis  of  A ,  one  of  your  best  friends, 

and  another  person,  whom  some  call  one  of  your  worst  and 
most  interested  enemies,  could  not,  somehow,  be  brought  to 
listen  to." 

"I  am  obliged  to  my  honorable  friend  ;  and  yet,"  shak- 
ing the  Lord  Keeper's  hand — "  and  yet  I  am  still  more 
obliged  to  my  honorable  enemy." 

"  Inimicus  amicissimus,"  said  the  Lord  Keeper,  return- 
ing the  pressure  ;  "but  this  gentleman — this  Mr.  Hayston  of 
Bucklaw — I  am  afraid  the  poor  young  man — I  heard  the 
fellow  mention  his  name — is  under  very  bad  guidance." 

"  He  is  old  enough  to  govern  himself,"  answered  the 
Master. 

"  Old  enough,  perhaps,  but  scarce  wise  enough,  if  he  has 
chosen  this  fellow  for  \\\s,fidus  Achates.  Why,  he  lodged  an 
information  against  him — that  is,  such  a  consequence  might 
have  ensued  from  his  examination,  had  we  not  looked  rather 
at  the  character  of  the  witness  than  the  tenor  of  his  evi- 
dence." 

''Mr.  Hayston  of  Bucklaw,"  said  the  Master,  "is,  I 
believe,  a  most  honorable  man,  and  capable  of  nothing  that 
IS  mean  or  disgraceful." 

"  Capable  of  much  that  is  unreasonable,  though  ;  that  you 
must  needs  allow.  Master.  Death  will  soon  put  him  in  pos- 
session of  a  fair  estate,  if  he  hath  it  not  already ;  old  Lady 
Girnington — an  excellent  person,  excepting  that  her  invet- 
erate ill-nature  rendered  her  intolerable  to  the  whole  world — 
is  probably  dead  by  this  time.  Six  heirs  portioners  have  suc- 
cessively died  to  make  her  wealthy.  I  know  the  estates  well ; 
they  march  with  my  own — a  noble  property." 

"  I  am  glad  of  it,"  said  Ravenswood,  "  and  should  be  more 


156  WAVERLEY  KOVELS 

so,  were  I  confident  that  Bueklaw  would  change  his  company 
and  habits  with  his  fortune.  This  appearance  of  Craigen- 
gelt,  acting  in  the  capacity  of  his  friend,  is  a  most  vile  augury 
for  his  future  respectability." 

•'  He  is  a  bird  of  evil  omen,  to  be  sure,"  said  the  Keeper, 
"'  and  croaks  of  jail  and  gallows-tree.  But  I  see  Mr.  Caleb 
grows  impatient  for  our  return  to  breakfast/' 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

Sir,  stay  at  home  and  take  an  old  man's  counsel ; 

Seek  not  to  bask  you  by  a  stranger's  hearth  ; 
Our  own  blue  smoke  is  warmer  than  their  fire. 
Domestic  food  is  wholesome,  though  'tis  homely, 
And  foreign  dainties  poisonous,  though  tasteful. 

The  French  Courtezar^ 

The  Master  of  Ravenswood  took  an  opportunity  to  leave  ki\ 
guests  to  prepare  for  their  departure,  while  he  himself  made 
the  brief  arrangements  necessary  previous  to  his  absence  from 
Wolf's  Crag  for  a  day  or  two.  It  was  necessary  to  communi- 
cate with  Caleb  on  this  occasion,  and  he  found  that  faithful 
servitor  in  his  sooty  and  ruinous  den,  greatly  delighted  with 
the  departure  of  their  visitors,  and  computing  how  long,  with 
good  management,  the  provisions  which  had  been  unexpended 
might  furnish  forth  the  Master's  table.  "He's  nae  belly 
god,  that's  ae  blessing  ;  and  Bucklaw's  gane,  that  could  have 
eaten  a  horse  behind  tlie  saddle.  Cresses  or  water-purpie,  and 
a  bit  ait-cake,  can  serve  the  Master  for  breakfast  as  well  as 
Caleb.  Then  for  dinner — there's  no  muckle  left  on  the  spule- 
bane ;  it  will  brander,  though — it  will  brander  very  weel." 

His  triumphant  calculations  were  interrupted  by  the  Mas- 
ter, who  communicated  to  him,  not  without  some  hesitation, 
his  purpose  to  ride  with  the  Lord  Keeper  as  far  as  Ravens- 
wood  Castle,  and  to  remain  there  for  a  day  or  two. 

"  The  mercy  of  Heaven  forbid  ! "  said  the  old  serving-man 
turning  as  pale  as  the  table-cloth  which  he  was  folding  up. 

"And  why,  Caleb  ?"  said  his  master — "why  should  the 
mercy  of  Heaven  forbid  my  returning  the  Lord  Keeper's 
visit  ?  " 

"Oh,  sir!"  replied  Caleb — "0,  Mr.  Edgar!  I  am  your 
servant,  and  it  ill  becomes  me  to  speak ;  but  I  am  an  auld 
servant — have  served  baith  your  father  and  gudesire,  and 
mind  to  have  seen  Lord  Randal,  your  great-grandfather,  but 
that  was  when  I  was  a  bairn." 

"And  Avhat  of  all  this,  Balderstone  ? "  said  the  Master  ; 
"  what  can  it  possibly  have  to  do  with  my  paying  some  ordi- 
nary civility  to  a  neighbor  ?  " 

m 


158  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

*'  0,  Mr.  Edgar, — that  is,  my  lord  ! "  answered  the  butler. 
**  yonr  ain  conscience  tells  you  it  isna  for  your  father's  son  to 
be  neighboring  wi'  the  like  o'  him  ;  it  is  na  for  the  credit  of 
the  family.  An  he  were  ance  come  to  terms,  and  to  gie  ye 
back  your  ain,  e'en  though  ye  suld  honor  his  house  wi'  your 
alliance,  I  suldna  say  na  ;  for  the  young  leddy  is  a  winsome 
sweet  creakire.  But  keep  your  ain  state  wi'  them — I  ken  the 
race  o'  them  weel — they  will  think  the  mair  o'  ye." 

''Why,  now,  you  go  farther  than  I  do,  Caleb,"  said  the 
Master,  drowning  a  certain  degree  of  consciousness  in  a  forced 
laugh  ;  "  you  are  for  marrying  me  into  a  family  that  you  will 
not  allow  me  to  visit,  how's  this  ?  and  you  look  as  pale  as 
death  besides." 

''0,  sir,"  repeated  Caleb  again,  *'you  would  but  laugh  if 
I  tauld  it ;  but  Thomas  the  Rhymer,  whose  tongue  couldna 
be  fause,  spoke  the  word  of  3^our  house  that  will  e'en  prove 
ower  true  if  you  go  to  Ravenswood  this  day.  0,  that  it 
should  e'er  have  been  fulfilled  in  my  time  !  " 

*'  And  what  is  it,  Caleb  ?  "  said  Ravenswood,  wishing  to 
soothe  the  fears  of  his  old  servant. 

Caleb  replied,  "  He  had  never  repeated  the  lines  to  liv- 
ing mortal ;  they  were  told  to  him  by  an  auld  priest  that  had 
been  confessor  to  Lord  Allan's  father  when  the  family  were 
Catholic.  But  mony  a  time,"  he  said,  "  I  hae  soughed  thae 
dark  words  ower  to  mysell,  and,  well-a-day  !  little  did  I  think 
of  their  coming  round  this  day." 

"  Truce  with  your  nonsense,  and  let  me.  hear  the  doggerel 
v:hich  has  put  it  into  your  head,"  said  the  Master,  impatiently. 

With  a  quivering  voice,  and  a  cheek  pale  with  apprehen- 
sion, Caleb  faltered  out  the  following  lines  : 

"  '  When  the  last  Laird  of  Ravenswood  to  Ravenswood  shall  ride 
And  woo  a  dead  maiden  to  be  his  bride, 
He  shall  stable  his  steed  in  the  Kelpie's  flow, 
And  his  name  shall  be  lost  f  orevermoe  ! ' " 

"  I  know  the  Kelpie's  flow  well  enough,"  said  the  Master  ; 
''  I  suppose,  at  least,  you  mean  the  quicksand  betwixt  this 
tower  and  Wolf's  Hope  ;  but  why  any  man  in  his  senses 
should  stable  a  steed  there " 

"0,  never  speer  ony thing  about  that,  sir — God  forbid  we 
should  ken  what  the  prophecy  means — but  just  bide  you  at 
hame,  and  let  the  strangers  ride  to  Ravenswood  by  them- 
selves. We  have  done  eneugh  for  them ;  and  to  do  mair 
would  be  mair  against  the  credit  of  the  family  than  in  its 
favor.'* 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  159 

"Well,  Caleb,"  said  the  Master,  "•'!  give  jou  the  best 
possible  credit  for  your  good  advice  on  this  occasion  ;  but  as 
I  do  not  go  to  Raveuswood  to  seek  a  bride,  dead  or  alive,  I  hope 
I  shall  choose  a  better  stable  for  my  horse  than  the  Kelpie's 
quicksand,  and  especially  as  I  have  always  had  a  particular 
dread  of  it  since  the  patrol  of  dragoons  were  lost  there  ten 
years  since.  My  father  and  I  saw  them  from  the  tower 
struggling  against  the  advancing  tide,  and  they  were  lost  long 
before  any  help  could  reach  them." 

"  And  they  deserved  it  weel,  the  southern  loons  !  "  said 
Caleb  :  ''  wliat  had  they  ado  capering  on  our  sands,  and  hin- 
dering a  wlieen  honest  folk  frae  bringing  on  shore  a  drap 
brandy  ?  I  hae  seen  them  that  busy,  that  I  wad  hae  fired 
the  auld  culverin  or  the  demi-saker  that's  on  the  south  barti- 
zan at  them,  only  I  was  feared  they  might  burst  in  the  gang- 
ing aff." 

Caleb's  brain  was  now  fully  engaged  with  abuse  of  the 
English  soldiery  and  excisemen,  so  that  his  master  found  no 
great  difficulty  in  escaping  from  him  and  rejoining  his  guests. 
All  was  now  ready  for  their  departure  ;  and  one  of  the  Lord 
Keeper's  grooms  having  saddled  the  Master's  steed,  they 
mounted  in  the  courtyard. 

Caleb  had,  with  much  toil,  opened  the  double  doors  of  tne 
outward  gate,  and  thereat  stationed  himself,  endeavoring, 
by  the  reverential,  and  at  the  same  time  consequential,  air 
which  he  assumed,  to  supply,  by  his  own  gaunt,  wasted,  and 
thin  person,  the  absence  of  a  whole  baronial  establishment 
of  porters,  warders,  and  liveried  menials. 

The  Keeper  returned  his  deep  reverence  with  a  cordial 
farewell,  stooping  at  the  same  time  from  his  horse,  and  slid- 
ing into  the  butler's  hand  the  remuneration  which  in  those 
days  was  always  given  by  a  departing  guest  to  the  domestica 
of  the  family  where  he  had  been  entertained.  Lucy  smiled 
on  the  old  man  with  her  usual  sweetness,  bade  him  adien, 
and  deposited  her  guerdon  with  a  grace  of  action  and  a  gen- 
tleness of  accent  which  could  not  have  failed  to  have  won  the 
faithful  retainer's  heart,  but  for  Thomas  the  Rhymer,  and  the 
successful  lawsuit  against  his  master.  As  it  was,  he  might 
have  adopted  the  language  of  the  Duke  in  As  You  Like  It — 

Thou  wouldst  have  better  pleased  me  with  this  deed, 
If  thou  hadst  told  me  of  another  father. 

Ravenswood  was  at  the  lady's  bridle-rein,  encouraging  her 
timidity,  and  guiding  her  horse  carefully  down  the  rocky  path 
which  led  to  the  moor,  when  one  of  the  servants  announced 


160  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

from  the  rear  that  Caleb  was  calling  loudly  after  them,  desir- 
ing to  speak  with  his  master.  Ravenswood  felt  it  would  look 
singular  to  neglect  this  summons,  although  inwardly  cursin 
Caleb  for  his  impertinent  officiousness ;  therefore  he  was 
compelled  to  relinquish  to  j\Ir.  Lockhard  the  agreeable  duty 
in  which  he  was  engaged,  and  to  ride  back  to  the  gate  of  the 
courtyard.  Here  he  W;as  beginning,  somewhat  peevishly,  to 
ask  Caleb  the  cause  of  his  clamor,  when  the  good  old  man 
exclaimed,  "  Whisht,  sir  ! — whisht,  and  let  me  speak  just  ae 
word  that  I  couldna  say  afore  folk  ;  there  [putting  into  his 
lord's  hand  the  money  he  had  just  received] — there's  three 
gowd  pieces  ;  and  ye'll  want  siller  up-bye  yonder.  But  stay, 
whisht  now ! "  for  the  Master  was  beginning  to  exclaim 
against  this  transference,  "never  say  a  word,  but  just  see  to 
get  them  changed  in  the  first  town  ye  ride  through,  for  they 
are  bran  new  frae  the  mint,  and  kenspeckle  a  wee  bit." 

''  You  forget,  Caleb,"  said  his  master,  striving  to  force 
back  the  money  on  his  servant,  and  extricate  the  bridle  from 
his  hold — "  you  forget  that  I  have  some  gold  pieces  left  of 
my  own.  Keep  these  to  yourself,  my  old  friend  ;  and,  once 
more,  good-day  to  you.  I  assure  you,  I  have  plenty.  You 
know  you  have  managed  that  our  living  should  cost  us  little 
or  nothing." 

"i\v  eel,"  said  Caleb,  "these  will  serve  for  you  another 
time  ;  but  see  ye  hae  eneugh,  for,  doubtless,  for  th^  credit  of 
the  family,  there  maun  be  some  civility  to  the  servants,  and 
ye  maun  hae  something  to  mak  a  show  with  when  they  say, 
'  Master,  will  you  bet  a  broad  piece  ? '  Then  ye  maun  tak 
out  your  purse,  and  say,  '  I  carena  if  I  do ; '  and  tak  care 
no  to  agree  on  the  articles  of  the  wager,  and  just  put  up  your 
purse  again,  and " 

"This  is  intolerable,  Caleb  ;  I  really  must  be  gone." 

"And  you  will  go,  then  ?"  said  Caleb,  loosening  hishoxf' 
upon  the  Master's  cloak,  and  changing  his  didactics  into  a 
pathetic  and  mournful  tone — "  and  you  tvill  go,  for  a'  I  have 
told  you  about  the  prophecy,  and  the  dead  bride,  and  the 
Kelpie's  quicksand  ?  Aweel  !  a  wilful  man  maun  hae  his 
way  :  he  that  will  to  Cupar  maun  to  Cupar.  But  pity  of 
your  life,  sir,  if  ye  be  fowling  or  shooting  in  the  Park,  beware 

of  drinking  at  the  Mermaiden's  Well He's  gane  !  he's 

down  the  path  arrow-flight  after  her  !  The  head  is  as  clean 
taen  aff  the  Ravenswood  family  this  day  as  I  wad  chap  the 
head  aff  a  sybo  ! " 

The  old  butler  looked  long  after  his  master,  often  clearing 
away  the  dew  as  it  rose  to  his  eyes,  that  he  might,  as  long  as 


THK  BKIDI^J   OB'  LAMMERMOOR  161 

possible,  distinguish  his  stately  form  from  those  of  the  other 
horsemen.  "  Close  to  her  bridle-rein — ay,  close  to  her  bridle- 
rein  !  Wisely  saith  the  holy  man,  '  By  this  also  you  may 
know  that  woman  hath  dominion  over  all  men  ; '  and  with- 
out this  lass  would  not  our  ruin  have  been  a'thegither  ful- 
filled. " 

AVith  a  heart  fraught  with  sucli  sad  auguries  did  Caleb 
return  to  his  necessary  duties  at  Wolf's  Crag,  as  soon  as  he 
could  no  longer  distinguish  the  object  of  his  anxiety  among 
the  group  of  riders,  which  diminished  in  the  distance. 

In  the  mean  time  the  party  pursued  their  route  joyfully. 
Having  once  taken  his  resolution,  the  Master  of  Eavenswood 
was  not  of  a  character  to  hesitate  or  pause  upon  it.  He  aban- 
doned himself  to  the  pleasure  he  felt  in  Miss  Ashton's  com- 
pany, and  displayed  an  assiduous  gallantry  which  approached 
as  nearly  to  gayety  as  the  temper  of  his  mind  and  state  of  his 
family  permitted.  The  Lord  Keeper  was  much  struck  with 
liis  depth  of  observation,  and  the  unusual  improvement  which 
lie  had  derived  from  his  studies.  Of  these  accomplishments 
Sir  William  Ashton's  profession  and  habits  of  society  rendered 
him  an  excellent  judge ;  and  he  well  knew  how  to  appreciate 
a  quality  to  which  he  himself  was  a  total  stranger — the  brief 
and  decided  dauntlessness  of  the  Master  of  Eavenswood's  dis- 
position, who  seemed  equally  a  stranger  to  doubt  and  to  fear. 
In  his  heart  the  Lord  Keeper  rejoiced  at  having  conciliated 
an  adversary  so  formidable,  while,  with  a  mixture  of  pleasure 
and  anxiety,  he  anticipated  the  great  things  his  young  com- 
panion might  achieve,  were  the  breath  of  court-favor  to  fill 
nis  sails. 

"  What  could  she  desire,"  he  thought,  his  mind  always 
conjuring  up  opposition  in  the  person  of  Lady  Ashton  to  his 
now  prevailing  wish — "^  what  could  a  woman  desire  in  a 
match  more  than  the  sopiting  of  a  very  dangerous  claim,  and 
the  alliance  of  a  son-in-law,  noble,  brave,  well-gifted,  an^, 
highly  connected  ;  sure  to  float  whenever  the  tide  sets  kis 
way ;  strong,  exactly  where  we  are  weak,  in  pedigree  and  'a\  the 
temper  of  a  swordsman  ?     Sure,  no  reasonable  woman  would 

hesitate.     But,  alas !"  Here  his  argument  was  stopped  by 

the  consciousness  that  Lady  Ashton  was  not  always  reason- 
able, in  his  sense  of  the  word.  "  To  prefer  some  clownish 
Merse  laird  to  the  gallant  young  nobleman,  and  to  the  secure 
possession  of  Eavenswood  upon  terms  of  easy  compromise — 
it  would  be  the  act  of  a  madwoman  \" 

Thus  pondered  the  veteran  politician,  until  they  reached 
JBittlebrains  House,  where  it  had  been  previously  settled  they 


162  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

were  to  dine  and  repose  tlieniselves,  and  prosecute  their  jour- 
ney in  the  afternoon. 

Tliey  were  received  with  an  excess  of  hospitality  ;  and  the 
most  marked  attention  was  offered  to  the  Master  of  Eavens- 
wood,  in  particular,  by  their  noble  entertainers.  The  truth 
was,  tliat  Lord  Bittlebrains  had  obtained  his  peerage  by  a 
good  deal  of  plausibility,  an  art  of  building  up  a  character  for 
wisdom  upon  a  very  trite  style  of  commonplace  eloquence,  a 
steady  observation  "of  the  changes  of  the  times,  and  the  power 
of  rendering  certain  political  services  to  those  who  could  best 
reward  them.  His  lady  and  he,  not  feeling  quite  easy  under 
their  new  honors,  to  which  use  had  not  adapted  their  feelings, 
were  very  desirous  to  procure  the  fraternal  countenance  of 
those  who  were  born  denizens  of  the  regions  into  which  they 
had  been  exalted  from  a  lower  sphere.  The  extreme  atten- 
tion which  they  paid  to  the  Master  of  Eavenswood  had  its 
usual  effect  in  exalting  his  importance  in  the  eyes  of  the  Lord 
Keeper,  who,  although  he  had  a  reasonable  degree  of  con- 
tempt for  Lord  Bittlebrains's  general  parts,  entertained  a  high 
opinion  of  the  acuteness  of  his  judgment  in  all  matters  of 
self-interest. 

"  I  wish  Lady  Ashton  had  seen  this,"  was  his  internal  re- 
flection ;  "no  man  knows  so  well  as  Bittlebrains  on  which 
side  his  bread  is  buttered  ;  and  he  fawns  on  the  Master  like  a 
beggar's  messan  on  a  cook.  And  my  lady,  too,  bringing 
forward  her  beetle-browed  misses  to  skirl  and  play  upon  the 
virginals,  as  if  she  said,  'Pick  and  choose."  They  are  no 
more  comparable  to  Lucy  than  an  owl  is  to  a  cygnet,  and  so 
they  may  carry  their  black  brows  to  a  farther  market." 

The  entertainment  being  ended,  our  travellers,  who  had 
still  to  measure  the  longest  part  of  their  journey,  resumed  their 
horses  ;  and  after  the  Lord  Keeper,  the  Master,  and  the  do- 
mestics had  drunk  doch-cm-dorroch,  or  the  stirrup-cup,  in  the 
liquors  adapted  to  their  various  ranks,  the  cavalcade  resumed 
its  progress. 

It  was  dark  by  the  time  they  entered  the  avenue  of  Ea- 
venswood Castle,  a  long  straight  line  leading  directly  to  the 
front  of  the  house,  flanked  with  huge  elm-trees,  which  sighed 
to  the  night-wind,  as  if  they  compassionated  the  heir  of  their 
ancient  proprietors,  who  now  returned  to  their  shades  in  the 
society,  and  almost  in  the  retinue,  of  their  new  master.  Some 
feelings  of  the  same  kind  oppressed  the  mind  of  the  Master 
himself.  He  gradually  became  silent,  and  dropped  a  little 
behind  the  lady,  at  whose  bridle-rein  he  had  hitherto  waited 
with  such  devotion.     He  well  recollected  the  period  when. 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  163 

at  the  same  hour  iu  the  evening,  he  had  accompanied  his 
father,  as  that  nobleman  left,  never  again  to  return  to  it,  the 
mansion  from  which  he  derived  his  name  and  title.  Tlie  ex- 
tensive front  of  the  old  castle,  on  which  he  remembered  hav- 
ing often  looked  back,  was  then  "as  black  as  mourning  weed," 
The  same  front  now  glanced  with  many  lights,  some  throwing 
far  forward  into  the  night  a  fixed  and  stationary  blaze,  and  oth- 
ers hurrying  from  one  window  to  another,  intimating  the  bustle 
and  busy  preparation  preceding  their  arrival,  which  had  been 
intimated  by  an  avant-courier.  The  contrast  pressed  so  strongly 
upon  the  Master's  heart  as  to  awaken  some  of  the  sterner  feel- 
ings with  which  he  had  been  accustomed  to  regard  the  new 
lor>l  of  his  paternal  domain,  and  to  impress  his  countenance 
with  an  air  of  severe  gravity,  when,  alighted  from  his  horse, 
he  stood  in  the  hall  no  longer  his  own,  surrounded  by  the 
numerous  menials  of  its  present  owner. 

The  Lord  Keeper,  when  about  to  welcome  him  with  the 
cordiality  which  their  late  intercourse  seemed  to  render  proper, 
became  aware  of  the  change,  refrained  from  his  purpose,  and 
only  intimated  the  ceremony  of  reception  by  a  deep  reverence 
to  his  guest,  seeming  thus  delicately  to  share  the  feelings  which 
predominated  on  his  brow. 

Two  upper  domestics,  bearing  each  a  huge  pair  of  silver 
candlesticks,  now  marshalled  the  company  into  a  large  saloon, 
or  withdrawing-room,  where  new  alterations  impressed  upon 
Eavenswood  the  suj^erior  wealth  of  the  present  inhabitants  of 
the  castle.  The  mouldering  taj^estry,  which,  in  his  father's 
time,  had  half  covered  the  walls  of  this  statel}^  apartment,  and 
half  streamed  from  them  in  tatters,  had  given  place  to  a  com- 
plete finishing  of  wainscot,  the  cornice  of  which,  as  well  as  the 
frames  of  the  various  compartments,  were  ornamented  with 
festoons  of  flowers  and  with  birds,  which,  though  carved  in 
oak,  seemed,  such  was  the  art  of  the  chisel,  actually  to  swell 
their  throats  and  flutter  their  wings.  Several  old  family  por- 
traits of  armed  heroes  of  the  house  of  Ravenswood,  together 
with  a  suit  or  two  of  old  armor  and  some  military  weapons, 
had  given  place  to  those  of  King  William  and  Queen  Mary, 
of  Sir  Thomas  Hope  and  Lord  Stair,  two  distinguished  Scot- 
tish lawyers.  The  pictures  of  the  Lord  Keeper's  father  and 
mother  were  also  to  be  seen ;  the  latter,  sour,  shrewish,  and 
solemn,  in  her  black  hood  and  close  pinners,  with  a  book  of 
devotion  in  her  hand  ;  the  former,  exhibiting  beneath  a  black 
silk  Geneva  cowl,  or  skull-cap,  which  sat  as  close  to  the  head 
as  if  it  had  been  shaven,  a  pinched,  peevish.  Puritanical  set 
of  features,  terminating  in  a  hungry,  reddish,  peaked  beard. 


164  WAVFRLEY  NOVELS 

forming  on  the  whole  a  countenance  in  the  expression  of 
which  the  liypocrite  seemed  to  contend  with  the  miser  and 
the  knave.  "And  it  is  to  make  room  for  such  scarecrows  as 
these/'  thought  Eavenswood,  "  that  my  ancestors  have  been 
torn  down  from  the  walls  which  they  erected  ! "  He  looked 
at  them  again,  and,  as  he  looked,  the  recollection  of  Lucy 
Asliton,  for  she  had  not  entered  the  apartment  with  them, 
seemed  less  lively  in  his  imagination.  There  were  also  two 
or  three  Dutch  drolleries,  as  the  pictures  of  Ostade  and 
Teniers  were  then  termed,  with  one  good  painting  of  the 
Italian  school.  There  was,  besides,  a  noble  full-length  of  the 
Lord  Keeper  in  his  robes  of  office,  placed  beside  his  lady  in 
silk  and  ermine,  a  haughty  beauty,  bearing  in  her  looks  all 
the  pride  of  the  house  of  Douglas,  from  which  she  was  de- 
scended. The  painter,  notwithstanding  his  skill,  overcome 
by  the  reality,  or,  perhaps,  from  a  suppressed  sense  of  humor, 
had  not  been  able  to  give  the  husband  on  the  canvas  that  air 
of  awful  rule  and  right  supremacy  which  indicates  the  full 
possession  of  domestic  authority.  It  was  obvious  at  the  first 
glance,  that,  despite  mace  and  gold  frogs,  the  Lord  Keeper 
was  somewhat  henpecked.  The  floor  of  this  fine  saloon  was 
laid  with  rich  carpets,  huge  fires  blazed  in  the  double  chim- 
neys, and  ten  silver  sconces,  reflecting  with  their  bright  plates 
the  lights  which  they  supported,  made  the  whole  seem  as 
brilliant  as  day. 

"  Would  you  choose  any  refreshment.  Master  ?"  said  Sir 
William  Ashton,  not  unwilling  to  break  the  awkward  silence. 

He  received  no  answer,  the  Master  being  so  busily  en- 
gaged in  marking  the  various  changes  which  had  taken  place 
in  the  apartment,  that  he  hardly  heard  the  Lord  Keeper  ad- 
dress him.  A  repetition  of  the  offer  of  refreshment,  with  the 
addition,  that  the  family  meal  would  be  presently  ready,  com- 
pelled his  attention,  and  reminded  him  that  he  acted  a  weak, 
perhaps  even  a  ridiculous,  part  in  suffering  himself  to  be 
overcome  by  the  circumstances  in  which  he  found  himself. 
He  compelled  himself,  therefore,  to  enter  into  conversation 
with  Sir  William  Ashton,  with  as  much  appearance  of  indif- 
ference as  he  could  well  command. 

''You  will  not  be  surprised.  Sir  William,  that  I  am  inter- 
ested in  the  changes  you  have  made  for  the  better  in  this 
apartment.  In  my  father's  time,  after  our  misfortunes  com- 
pelled him  to  live  in  retirement,  it  was  little  used,  except  by 
me  as  a  play-room,  when  the  weather  would  not  permit  me  to 
go  abroad.  In  that  recess  was  my  little  workshop,  where  I 
treasured  the  few  carpenters'  tools  which  old  Caleb  procured 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  165 

for  me,  and  taught  me  how  to  use ;  there,  in  yonder  corner, 
under  that  handsome  silver  sconce,  I  kept  my  fishing-rods  and 
hunting  poles,  bows  and  arrows." 

"  I  have  a  young  birkie,"  said  the  Lord  Keeper,  willing  to 
change  the  tone  of  the  conversation,  '*  of  much  the  same 
turn.  He  is  never  happy  save  when  he  is  in  the  field.  I 
wonder  he  is  not  here.  Here,  Lockhard  ;  send  William  Shaw 
for  Mr.  Henry.  I  suppose  he  is,  as  usual,  tied  to  Lucy's 
apron-string ;  that  foolish  girl.  Master,  draws  the  whole  family 
after  her  at  her  pleasure." 

Even  this  allusion  to  his  daughter,  though  artfully  thrown 
out,  did  not  recall  Ravenswood  from  his  own  topic. 

'' We  were  obliged  to  leave,"  he  said,  ''some  armor  and 
portraits  in  this  apartment ;  may  I  ask  where  they  have  been 
removed  to  ?  " 

"Why,  "answered  the  Keeper,  with  some  hesitation,  "the 
room  was  fitted  up  in  our  absence,  and  eedant  arma  togm  is 
the  maxim  of  lawyers,  you  know :  I  am  afraid  it  has  been 
here  somewhat  too  literally  complied  with.  I  hope — I  be- 
lieve they  are  safe,  I  am  sure  I  gave  orders  ;  may  I  hope  that 
when  they  are  recovered,  and  put  in  proper  order,  you  will 
do  me  the  honor  to  accept  them  at  my  hand,  as  an  atonement 
for  their  accidental  derangement  ?  " 

The  Master  of  Ravenswood  bowed  stiffly,  and,  with  folded 
arms,  again  resumed  his  survey  of  the  room. 

Henry,  a  spoiled  boy  of  fifteen,  burst  into  the  room,  and 
ran  up  to  his  father.  "'  Think  of  Lucy,  papa  ;  she  has  come 
home  so  cross  and  so  fractious,  that  she  will  not  go  down  to 
the  stable  to  see  my  new  pony,  that  Bob  Wilson  brought  from 
the  Mull  of  Galloway." 

"  I  think  you  were  very  unreasonable  to  ask  her,"  said  the 
Keeper. 

"Then  you  are  as  cross  as  she  is,"  answered  the  boy; 
"but  when  mamma  comes  home,  she'll  claw  up  both  your 
mittens." 

"Hush  your  impertinence,  you  little  forward  imp  !"  said 
his  father  ;  "  where  is  your  tutor  ?" 

"  Gone  to  a  wedding  at  Dunbar ;  I  hope  he'll  get  a  haggis 
to  his  dinner  ; "  and  he  began  to  sing  the  old  Scottish  song — 

*' '  There  was  a  haggis  in  Dunbar, 

Fal  de  ral,  etc. 
Mony  better  and  few  waur, 

Fal  de  ral,  etc.'" 

*'Iam  much  obliged  to  Mr.  Cordery  for  his  attentions." 
said  the  Lord  Keeper ;  "  and  pray  who  has  had  the  charge  of 
you  while  I  was  awav.  Mr.  Henry  ?" 


1G6  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

"  Normau  and  Bob  Wilson,  forbye  my  own  self." 

"A  groom  and  a  gamekeeper,  and  your  own  silly  self- 
proper  guardians  for  a  young  advocate  !  Why,  you  will  never 
know  any  statutes  but  those  against  shooting  red-deer,  killing 
salmon,  and " 

"  And  speaking  of  red-game,"  said  the  young  scapegrace, 
interrupting  his  father  without  scruple  or  hesitation,  "  Nor- 
man has  shot  a  buck,  and  I  showed  the  branches  to  Lucy,  and 
she  says  they  have  but  eight  tines  ;  and  she  says  that  you 
killed  a  deer  with  Loi'd  Bittlebrains's  hounds,  when  yoii 
were  west  away,  and,  do  you  know,  she  says  it  had  ten  tines « 
is  it  true  ?  " 

''It  may  have  had  twenty,  Henry,  for  what  I  know;  bui. 
if  you  go  to  that  gentleman,  he  can  tell  you  all  about  it.  Gp 
speak  to  him,  Henry;  it  is  the  Master  of  Eavenswood." 

While  they  conversed  thus,  the  father  and  son  were  stand' 
ing  by  the  fire;  and  the  Master,  having  walked  towards  th<? 
upper  end  of  the  apartment,  stood  with  his  back  toward? 
them,  apparently  engaged  in  examining  one  of  the  paintings. 
The  boy  ran  up  to  him,  and  pulled  him  by  the  skirt  of  the 
coat  with  the  freedom  of  a  spoiled  child,  saying,  ''I  say,  sir,  if 

you  please  to  tell  me "  but  when  tlie  Master  turned  round, 

and  Henry  saw  his  face,  he  became  suddenly  and  totally  dis- 
concerted ;  walked  two  or  three  steps  backward,  and  still 
gazed  on  Ravenswood  with  an  air  of  fear  and  wonder,  which 
had  totally  banished  from  his  features  their  usual  expression 
of  pert  vivacity. 

"  Come  to  me,  young  gentleman,"  said  the  Master,  "and 
I  will  tell  you  all  I  know  about  the  hunt." 

"  Go  to  the  gentleman,  Henry,"  said  his  father  ;  ''you  are 
not  used  to  be  so  shy." 

But  neither  invitation  nor  exhortation  had  any  effect  on 
the  boy.  On  the  contrary,  he  turned  round  as  soon  as  he 
had  completed  his  survey  of  the  Master,  and  walking  as  cau- 
tiously as  if  he  had  been  treading  upon  eggs,  he  glided  back 
to  his  father,  and  pressed  as  close  to  him  as  possible.  Eavens- 
wood,  to  avoid  hearing  the  dispute  betwixt  the  father  and  the 
over-indulged  boy,  thought  it  most  polite  to  turn  his  face  once 
more  towards  the  pictures,  and  pay  no  attention  to  what  they 
said. 

"  Why  do  you  not  speak  to  the  Master,  yon  little  fool  ?" 
said  the  Lord  Keeper. 

"  I  am  afraid,"  said  Henry,  in  a  very  low  tone  of  voice. 

"  Afraid,  you  goose  !"  said  his  father,  giving  him  a  slight 
shake  by  the  collar.     "  What  makes  you  afraid  r" 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  167 

"  What  makes  him  so  like  the  picture  of  Sir  Malise  Ravens- 
tvood,  then  ?  "  said  the  boy,  whispering. 

'•  What  picture,  you  natural  f"  said  his  father.  "  I  used 
to  think  you  only  a  scapegrace,  but  I  believe  you  will  turn  out 
a  born  idiot." 

"  I  tell  you,  it  is  the  picture  of  old  Malise  of  Eavenswood, 
and  he  is  as  like  it  as  if  he  had  loupen  out  of  the  canvas  ;  and 
it  is  up  in  the  old  baron's  hall  that  the  maids  launder  the 
clothes  in ;  and  it  has  armor,  and  not  a  coat  like  the  gentle- 
man ;  and  he  has  not  a  beard  and  whiskers  like  the  picture  ; 
and  it  has  another  kind  of  thing  about  the  throat,  and  no 
band-strings  as  he  has  ;  and " 

"And  why  should  not  the  gentleman  be  like  his  ancestor, 
you  silly  boy  ? "  said  the  Lord  Keeper. 

"Ay ;  but  if  he  is  come  to  chase  us  all  out  of  the  castle," 
said  the  boy,  "and  has  twenty  men  at  his  back  in  disguise; 
and  is  come  to  say,  with  a  hollow  voice,  '  I  bide  my  time  ; ' 
and  is  to  kill  you  on  the  hearth  as  Malise  did  the  other  man, 
and  whose  blood  is  still  to  be  seen  ! " 

"  Hush  !  nonsense  !  "  said  the  Lord  Keeper,  not  himself 
much  pleased  to  hear  these  disagreeable  coincidences  forced 
on  his  notice.  "Master,  here  comes  Lockhard  to  say  supper 
is  served." 

And,  at  the  same  instant,  Lucy  entered  at  another  door, 
having  changed  her  dress  since  her  return.  The  exquisite 
feminine  beauty  of  her  countenance,  now  shaded  only  by  a 
profusion  of  sunny  tresses  ;  the  sylph-like  form,  disencumbered 
of  her  heavy  riding-skirt  and  mantled  in  azure  silk  ;  the  grace 
of  her  manner  and  of  her  smile,  cleared,  with  a  celerity  wdiich 
surprised  the  Master  himself,  all  the  gloomy  and  unfavorable 
thoughts  which  had  for  some  time  overclouded  his  fancy.  In 
those  features,  so  simply  sweet,  he  could  trace  no  alliance  with 
the  pinched  visage  of  the  peak-bearded,  black-capped  Puri- 
tan, or  his  starched,  withered  spouse,  with  the  craft  expressed 
in  the  Lord  Keeper's  countenance,  or  the  haughtiness  which 
predominated  in  that  of  his  lady  ;  and,  while  he  gazed  on  Lucy 
Ashton,  she  seemed  to  be  an  angel  descended  on  eartli,  un- 
allied  to  the  coarser  mortals  among  whom  she  deigned  to 
dwell  for  a  season.  Such  is  the  power  of  beauty  over  a  youth- 
ful and  enthusiastic  fancy. 


CHAPTEE  XIX 

I  do  too  ill  in  this, 
And  must  not  think  but  that  a  parent's  plaint 
Will  move  the  heavens  to  pour  forth  misery 
Upon  the  head  of  disobediency. 
Yet  reason  tells  us,  parents  are  o'erseen, 
When  with  too  strict  a  rem  they  do  hold  in 
Their  child's  affection,  and  control  that  love, 
Which  the  high  powers  divine  inspire  them  with. 

The  Hog  hath  lost  his  Pearl. 

The  feast  of  Kavenswood  Castle  was  as  remarkable  for  its 
profusion  as  that  of  Wolf's  Crag  had  been  for  its  ill-veiled 
penury.  The  Lord  Keeper  might  feel  internal  pride  at  the 
contrast,  biit  he  had  too  much  tact  to  suffer  it  to  appear. 
On  the  contrary,  he  seemed  to  remember  with  pleasure  Avhat 
he  called  Mr.  Balderstone's  bachelor's  meal,  and  to  be  rather 
disgusted  than  pleased  with  the  display  upon  his  own  groaning 
board. 

*'  We  do  these  things,"  he  said,  "  because  others  do  them ; 
but  I  was  bred  a  plain  man  at  my  father's  frugal  table,  and  I 
should  like  well  would  my  wife  and  family  permit  me  to  re- 
turn to  my  sowens  and  my  poor-man-of -mutton."* 

This  was  a  little  overstretched.  The  Master  only  an- 
swered, "  That  different  ranks — I  mean,"  said  he,  correcting 
himself,  "  different  degrees  of  wealth  require  a  different 
style  of  housekeeping." 

This  dry  remark  put  a  stop  to  farther  conversation  on  the 
subject,  nor  is  it  necessary  to  record  that  which  was  substi- 
tuted in  its  place.  The  evening  was  spent  with  freedom, 
and  even  cordiality  ;  and  Henry  had  so  far  overcome  his  first 
apprehensions,  that  he  had  settled  a  party  for  coursing  a  stag 
with  the  representative  and  living  resemblance  of  grim  Sir 
Malise  of  Eavenswood,  called  the  Eevenger.  The  next 
morning  was  the  appointed  time.  It  rose  upon  active  sports- 
men and  successful  sport.  The  banquet  came  in  course  ; 
and  a  pressing  invitation  to  tarry  yet  another  day  was  given 
and  accepted.  This  Eavenswood  had  resolved  should  be  the 
last  of  his  stay ;  but  he  recollected  he  had  not  yet  visited  the 

m 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  169 

ancient  and  devoted  servant  of  his  house,  Old  Alice,  and  it 
was  but  kind  to  dedicate  one  morning  to  the  gratification 
of  so  ancient  an  adherent. 

To  visit  Alice,  therefore,  a  day  was  devoted,  and  Lucy 
was  the  Master's  guide  upon  the  way.  Henry,  it  is  true,  ac- 
companied them,  and  took  from  their  walk  the  air  of  a 
tete-a-tete,  while,  in  reality,  it  was  little  else,  considering  the 
variety  of  circumstances  which  occurred  to  prevent  the  boy 
from  giving  the  least  attention  to  what  passed  between  his 
companions.  Now  a  rook  settled  on  a  branch  within  shot ; 
anon  a  hare  crossed  their  path,  and  Henry  and  his  greyhound 
went  astray  in  pursuit  of  it ;  then  he  had  to  hold  a  long  con- 
versation with  the  forester,  which  detained  him  a  while  be- 
hind his  companions  ;  and  again  he  went  to  examine  the 
earth  of  a  badger,  which  carried  him  on  a  good  way  before 
them. 

The  conversation  betwixt  the  Master  and  his  sister,  mean- 
while, took  an  interesting,  and  almost  a  confidential,  turn. 
She  could  not  help  mentioning  her  sense  of  the  pain  he  must 
feel  in  visiting  scenes  so  well  known  to  him,  bearing  now  an 
aspect  so  different ;  and  so  gently  was  her  sympathy  expressed, 
that  Ravenswood  felt  it  for  a  moment  as  a  full  requital  of  all 
his  misfortunes.  Some  such  sentiment  escaped  him,  which 
Lucy  heard  with  more  of  confusion  than  displeasure  ;  and 
she  may  be  forgiven  the  imprudence  of  listening  to  such  lan- 
guage, considering  that  the  situation  in  which  she  was  placed 
by  her  father  seemed  to  authorize  Ravenswood  to  use  it.  Yet 
she  made  an  effort  to  turn  the  conversation,  and  she  suc- 
ceeded ;  for  the  Master  also  had  advanced  farther  than  he  in- 
tended, and  his  conscience  had  instantly  checked  him  when 
he  found  himself  on  the  verge  of  speaking  of  love  to  the 
daughter  of  Sir  William  Ashton. 

They  now  approached  the  hut  of  Old  Alice,  which  had  of 
late  been  rendered  more  comfortable,  and  presented  an  ap- 
pearance less  picturesque,  perhaps,  but  far  neater  than  before. 
The  old  woman  was  on  her  accustomed  seat  beneath  the  weep- 
ing birch,  basking,  with  the  listless  enjoyment  of  age  and 
infirmity,  in  the  beams  of  the  autumn  sun.  At  the  arrival  of 
Iier  visitors  she  turned  her  head  towards  them.  "  I  hear 
your  step,  Miss  Ashton,"  she  said,  "  but  the  gentleman  who 
attends  you  is  not  my  lord,  your  father." 

"And  why  should  you  think  so,  Alice  ?"  said  Lucy  ;  "or 
how  is  it  possible  for  you  to  judge  so  accurately  by  the  sound 
of  a  step,  on  this  firm  earth,  an(f  in  the  open  air  ? 

"  My  hearing,  my  child,  has  been  sharpened  by  my  blind' 


170  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

ness,  and  I  can  now  draw  conclusions  from  the  slightest 
sounds,  wliicli  formerly  reached  my  ears  as  unheeded  as  they 
now  approach  yours.  Necessity  is  a  stern  but  an  excellent 
school-mistress,  and  she  that  has  lost  her  sight  must  collect 
her  information  from  other  sources." 

'*  Well,  you  hear  a  man's  step,  I  grant  it,"  said  Lucy  ; 
''but  why,  Alice,  may  it  not  be  my  father's  ?" 

''  The  pace  of  age,  my  love,  is  timid  and  cautious  :  the 
foot  takes  leave  of  the  earth  slowly,  and  is  planted  down  upon 
it  with  hesitation  ;  it  is  the  hasty  and  determined  stej)  of 
youth  that  I  now  hear,  and — could  I  give  credit  to  so  strange 
a  thought — [  should  say  it  was  the  step  of  a  Ravenswood." 

"  This  is  indeed,"  said  Ravenswood,  "  an  acuteness  of 
organ  which  I  could  not  have  credited  had  I  not  witnessed  it. 
I  ixm  indeed  the  Master  of  Ravenswood,  Alice — the  son  of 
your  old  master." 

''You!"  said  the  old  woman,  with  almost  a  scream  of 
surprise — ' '  you  the  Master  of  Ravenswood — here — in  this 
place,  and  thus  accompanied  !  I  cannot  believe  it.  Let  me 
pass  my  old  hand  over  your  face,  that  my  touch  may  bear 
witness  to  my  ears." 

The  Master  sat  down  beside  her  on  the  earthen  bank,  and 
permitted  her  to  touch  his  features  with  her  trembling  hand. 

"It  is  indeed  !"  she  said — "  it  is  the  features  as  well  as 
the  voice  of  Ravenswood — the  high  lines  of  pride,  as  well  as 
the  bold  and  haughty  tone.  But  what  do  you  here.  Master 
of  Ravenswood  ? — what  do  you  in  your  enemy's  domain,  and 
in  company  with  his  child  ?  " 

As  Old  Alice  spoke,  her  face  kindled,  as  probably  that  of 
an  ancient  feudal  vassal  might  have  done  in  whose  presence 
his  youthful  liege-lord  had  showed  some  symptom  of  degener- 
ating from  the  spirit  of  his  ancestors. 

"The  Master  of  Ravenswood,"  said  Lucy,  who  liked  not 
the  tone  of  this  expostulation,  and  was  desirous  to  abridge  it^ 
"is  upon  a  visit  to  my  father." 

"Indeed  !"said  the  old  blind  woman,  in  an  accent  of 
sarprise. 

"I  knew,"  continued  Lucy,  "  I  should  do  him  a  pleasure 
by  conducting  him  to  your  cottage." 

"Where,  to  say  the  truth,  Alice,"  said  Ravenswood,  "I 
expected  a  more  cordial  reception." 

"It  is  most  wonderful  !"  said  the  old  woman,  muttering 
to  herself  ;  "  but  the  ways  of  Heaven  are  not  like  our  ways, 
and  its  judgments  are  brought  about  by  means  far  beyond 
our  fathoming.     Hearken,  young  man,"  she   said;    "your 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  171 

fathers  were  implacable,  but  they  were  honorable,  foes  ;  they 
sought  not  to  ruin  their  enemies  under  the  mask  of  hospi- 
tality. What  have  you  to  do  with  Lucy  Ashton  ?  why  should 
your  steps  move  in  the  same  footpath  with  hers  ?  why  should 
your  voice  sound  in  the  same  chord  and  time  witli  those  of 
Sir  William  Ashton's  daughter  ?  Young  man,  he  who  aims 
at  revenge  by  dishonorable  means " 

*'  Be  silent,  woman  !  "  said  Ravenswood,  sternly  ;  "  is  it 
the  devil  that  prompts  your  voice  ?  Know  that  tliis  young 
lady  has  not  on  earth  a  friend  who  would  venture  farther  to 
save  her  from  injury  or  from  insult." 

"  And  is  it  even  so  ?"  said  the  old  woman,  in  an  altered 
but  melancholy  tone,  "  then  God  help  you  both  !  " 

"  Amen  !  Alice,"  said  Lucy,  who  had  not  comprehended 
the  import  of  what  the  blind  woman  had  hinted,  "and  send 
you  your  senses,  Alice,  and  your  good-humor.  If  you  hold 
this  mysterious  language,  instead  of  welcoming  your  friends, 
they  will  think  of  you  as  other  people  do." 

"And  how  do  other  people  think  ?"said  Ravenswood,  for 
he  also  began  to  believe  the  old  woman  spoke  with  inco- 
herence. 

"  They  think,"  said  Henry  Ashton,  who  came  up  at  that 
moment,  and  whispered  into  Ravenswood's  ear,  "  that  she  is 
a  witch,  that  should  have  bee?i  burned  with  them  that  suf- 
fered at  Haddington." 

"  What  is  that  you  say  ?"  said  Alice,  turning  towards  the 
boy,  her  sightless  visage  inflamed  with  passion  ;  "that  I  am 
a  witch,  and  ought  to  liave  suffered  with  the  helpless  old 
wretches  who  were  murdered  at  Haddington  ?" 

"Hear  to  that  now,"  again  whispered  Henry,  "and  me 
whispering  lower  than  a  wren  cheeps  ! " 

"If  the  usurer,  and  the  oppressor,  and  the  grinder  of  the 
poor  man's  face,  and  the  remover  of  ancient  landmarks,  and 
the  subverter  of  ancient  houses,  were  at  tlie  same  stake  with 
me,  I  could  say, '  Light  the  fire,  in  God's  name  !'" 

"This  is  dreadful,"  said  Lucy  ;  "  I  have  never  seen  the 
poor  deserted  woman  in  this  state  of  mind  ;  but  age  and 
poverty  can  ill  bear  reproach.  Come,  Henry,  we  will  leave 
her  for  the  present ;  she  wishes  to  speak  Avith  the  Master 
alone.  We  will  walk  homeward,  and  rest  us."  she  added, 
looking  at  Ravenswood,  "  by  the  Mermaiden's  Well." 

"And  Alice,"  said  the  boy,  "if  you  know  of  any  hare 
that  comes  through  among  the  deer,  and  makes  them  drop 
their  calves  out  of  season,  you  may  tell  her,  Avith  my  compli- 
ments to  command,  that  if  Norman  has  not  got  a  silver  bullet 


172  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

ready  for  her,  I'll  lend  him  one  of  my  doublet-bnttons  on 
purpose." 

Alice  made  no  answer  till  she  was  aware  that  the  sister  and 
brother  were  out  of  hearing.  She  then  said  to  Ravenswood, 
''And  you,  too,  are  angry  with  me  for  my  love  ?  It  is  just 
that  strangers  should  be  offended,  but  you,  too,  are  angry  ! " 

"  I  am  not  angry,  Alice,"  said  the  Master,  "  only  surprised 
that  you,  whose  good  sense  I  have  heard  so  often  praised, 
should  give  way  to  offensive  and  unfounded  suspicions." 

"Offensive  !"  said  Alice.  ''Ay,  truth  is  ever  offensive; 
but,  surely,  not  unfounded." 

"I  tell  you,  dame,  most  groundless,"  replied  Ravenswood. 

"  Then  the  world  has  changed  its  wont,  and  the  Ravens- 
woods  their  hereditary  temper,  and  the  eyes  of  Old  Alice^s 
understanding  are  yet  more  blind  than  those  of  her  counte- 
nance. When  did  a  Ravenswood  seek  the  house  of  his  enemy 
but  with  the  purpose  of  revenge  ?  and  hither  are  you  come, 
Edgar  Ravenswood,  either  in  fatal  anger  or  in  still  more 
fatal  love." 

"In  neither,"  said  Ravenswood,  "I  give  you  mine 
honor — I  mean,  I  assure  you." 

Alice  could  not  see  his  blushing  cheek,  but  she  noticed 
his  hesitation,  and  that  he  retracted  the  pledge  which  he 
seemed  at  first  disposed  to  attach  to  his  denial. 

"It  is  so,  then,"  she  said,  "and  therefore  she  is  to  tarry 
by  the  Mermaiden's  Well  !  Often  has  it  been  called  a  place 
fatal  to  the  race  of  Ravenswood — often  has  it  proved  so  ;  but 
never  was  it  likely  to  verify  old  sayings  as  much  as  on  this 
day." 

"  You  drive  me  to  madness,  Alice, "  said  Ravenswood  ; 
•'you  are  more  silly  and  more  superstitious  than  old  Balder- 
stone.  Are  you  such  a  wretched  Christian  as  to  suppose  I 
would  in  the  present  day  levy  war  against  the  Ashton  family, 
as  was  the  sanguinary  custom  in  elder  times  ?  or  do  you  sup- 
pose me  so  foolish,  that  I  cannot  walk  by  a  young  lady's  side 
without  plunging  headlong  in  love  with  her  ?  " 

"  My  thoughts,"  replied  Alice,  "are  my  own  ;  and  if  my 
mortal  sight  is  closed  to  objects  present  with  me,  it  may  be  I 
can  look  with  more  steadfastness  into  future  events.  Are 
you  prepared  to  sit  lowest  at  the  board  which  was  once  your 
father's  own,  unwillingly,  as  a  connection  and  ally  of  his 
proud  successor  ?  Are  you  ready  to  live  on  his  bounty  ;  to 
follow  him  in  the  by-paths  of  intrigue  and  chicane,  which 
none  can  better  point  out  to  you  ;  to  gnaw  the  bones  of  his 
prey  when  he  has  devoured  the  substance  ?     Can  you  say  as 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  173 

Sir  William  Asliton  says,  think  as  he  thinks,  vote  as  he  votes, 
and  call  your  father's  murderer  your  worshipful  father-in-law 
and  reverend  patron  ?  Master  of  Ravenswood,  I  am  the 
eldest  servant  of  your  house,  and  I  would  rather  see  you 
shrouded  and  coffined  ! '' 

The  tumult  in  Ravenswood's  mind  was  uncommonly 
great ;  she  struck  upon  and  awakened  a  chord  which  he  had 
for  some  time  successfully  silenced.  He  strode  backwards 
and  forwards  through  the  little  garden  with  a  hasty  pace  ; 
and  at  length  checking  himself,  and  stopping  right  opposite 
to  Alice,  he  exclaimed,  "  Woman  !  on  the  verge  of  the  grave, 
dare  you  urge  the  son  of  your  master  to  blood  and  to  re- 
venge ?  " 

•'Grod  forbid!"  said  Alice,  solemnly;  "and  therefore  I 
would  have  you  depart  these  fatal  bounds,  where  your  love, 
as  well  as  your  hatred,  threatens  sure  mischief,  or  at  least 
disgrace,  both  to  yourself  and  others.  I  would  shield,  were 
it  in  the  power  of  this  withered  hand,  the  Ashtons  from  you, 
and  you  from  them,  and  both  from  their  own  passions.  You 
can  have  nothing — ought  to  have  nothing,  in  common  with 
them.  Begone  from  among  them  ;  and  if  God  has  destined 
vengeance  on  the  oppressor's  house,  do  not  you  be  the  instru- 
ment." 

"  I  will  think  on  what  yoa  have  said,  Alice,"  said  Ravens- 
wood,  more  composedly.  "I  believe  you  mean  truly  and 
faithfully  by  me,  but  you  urge  the  freedom  of  an  ancient 
domestic  somewhat  too  far.  But  farewell ;  and  if  Heaven 
afford  me  better  means,  I  will  not  fail  to  contribute  to  your 
comfort." 

He  attempted  to  put  a  piece  of  gold  into  her  hand,  which 
she  refused  to  receive  ;  and,  in  the  slight  struggle  attending 
his  wish  to  force  it  upon  her,  it  droppad  to  the  earth. 

''  Let  it  remain  an  instant  on  the  ground,"  said  Alice,  as 
the  Master  stooped  to  raise  it  y  "and  believe  me,  that  piece 
of  gold  is  an  emblem  of  her  whom  you  love  ;  she  is  as  pre- 
cious, I  grant,  but  you  must  stoop  even  to  abasement  before 
you  can  win  lier.  For  me,  I  have  as  little  to  do  with  gold  as 
with  earthly  passions  ;  and  the  best  news  that  the  world  has 
in  store  for  me  is,  that  Edgar  Ravenswood  is  a  hundred  miles 
distant  from  the  seat  of  his  ancestors,  with  the  determination 
never  again  to  behold  it." 

"  Alice,"  said  the  Master,  who  began  to  think  this  earnest- 
ness had  some  more  secret  cause  than  arose  from  anything 
that  the  blind  woman  could  have  gathered  from  this  casual 
visit,  "  I  have   heard   you  praised  by  my   motlier   for  your 


174  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

sense,  acuteness,  and  fidelity  ;  you  are  no  fool  to  start  at 
shadows,  or  to  dread  old  superstitious  saws,  like  Caleb  Balder- 
stone  ;  tell  me  distinctly  where  my  danger  lies,  if  you  are 
aware  of  any  which  is  tending  towards  me.  If  I  know  my- 
self, I  am  free  from  all  such  views  respecting  Miss  Ashton  as 
you  impute  to  me.  I  have  necessary  business  to  settle  with 
Sir  William  ;  that  arranged,  I  shall  depart,  and  with  as  little 
wish,  as  you  may  easily  believe,  to  return  to  a  place  full  of 
melancholy  subjects  of  reflection,  as  you  have  to  see  me 
here." 

Alice  bent  her  sightless  eyes  on  the  ground,  and  was  for 
some  time  plunged  in  deep  meditation.  ''I  will  speak  the 
truth,"  she  said  at  length,  raising  up  her  head — "  I  will  tell 
you  the  source  of  my  ai^prehensions,  whether  my  candor  be 
for  good  or  for  evil.  Lucy  Ashton  loves  you,  Lord  of 
Ravenswood  !" 

"It  is  impossible,"  said  the  Master. 

"  A  thousand  circumstances  have  proved  it  to  me,"  replied 
the  blind  woman.  "  Her  thoughts  have  turned  on  no  one 
else  since  you  saved  her  from  death,  and  that  my  experienced 
judgment  has  won  from  her  own  conversation.  Having  told 
you  this — if  you  are  indeed  a  gentleman  and  your  father's 
son — you  will  make  it  a  motive  for  flying  from  her  presence. 
Her  passion  will  die  like  a  lamp  for  want  of  that  the  flame 
should  feed  upon  ;  but,  if  you  remain  here,  her  destruction, 
or  yours,  or  that  of  both,  will  be  the  inevitable  consequence  of 
her  misplaced  attachment.  I  tell  you  this  secret  unwillingly, 
but  it  could  not  have  been  hid  long  from  your  own  observa- 
tion, and  it  is  better  you  learn  it  from  mine.  Depart,  Mas- 
ter of  Ravenswood  ;  you  have  my  secret.  If  you  remain  an 
hour  under  Sir  William  Ashton's  roof  without  the  resolution 
to  marry  his  daughter,  you  are  a  villain  ;  if  with  the  purpose 
of  allying  yourself  with  him,  you  are  an  infatuated  and  pre- 
destined fool." 

So  saying,  the  old  blind  woman  arose,  assumed  her  stafi:, 
and,  tottering  to  her  hut,  entered  it  and  closed  the  door,  leav- 
ing Ravenswood  to  his  own  reflections. 


CHAPTER  XX 

Lovelier  in  her  own  retired  abode 

.     .     .     than  Naiad  by  the  side 

Of  Grecian  brook — or  Lady  of  the  Mere 

Lone  sitting  by  the  shores  of  old  romance. 

Wordsworth. 

The  meditations  of  Ravenswood  were  of  a  very  mixed  com- 
plexion. He  saw  himself  at  once  in  the  very  dilemma  which 
ho  had  for  some  time  felt  appreiiensive  he  might  be  placed  in. 
The  pleasnre  he  felt  in  Lucy's  company  had  indeed  ap- 
proached to  fascination,  yet  it  had  never  altogether  sur- 
mounted his  internal  reluctance  to  wed  with  the  daughter  of 
his  father's  foe  ;  and  even  in  forgiving  Sir  William  Ashton  the 
injuries  which  his  family  had  received,  and  giving  him  credit 
for  the  kind  intentions  he  professed  to  entertain,  he  could  not 
bring  liimself  to  contemplate  as  possible  an  alliance  betwixt 
their  houses.  Still,  he  felt  that  Alice  spoke  truth,  and  that 
his  honor  now  required  he  should  take  an  instant  leave  of 
Ravenswood  Castle,  or  become  a  suitor  of  Lucy  Ashton.  The 
possibility  of  being  rejected,  too,  should  he  make  advances  to 
her  wealthy  and  powerful  father — to  sue  for  the  hand  of  an 
Ashton  and  be  refused — this  were  a  consummation  too  dis- 
graceful. "T  wish  her  well,"  he  said  to  himself,  "and  for 
her  sake  I  forgive  the  injuries  her  father  has  done  to  my  house  ; 
but  I  will  never — no,  never  see  her  more  !" 

With  one  bitter  pang  he  adopted  this  resolution,  just  as  he 
came  to  where  two  patlis  parted  :  the  one  to  the  Mermaiden's 
Fountain,  wliere  he  knew  Lucy  waited  him,  the  other  leading 
to  the  castle  by  another  and  more  circuitous  road.  He  paused 
an  instant  when  about  to  take  the  latter  path,  thinking  what 
apology  he  should  make  for  conduct  which  must  needs  seem 
extraordinary,  and  had  just  muttered  to  himself,  "Sudden 
news  from  Edinburgh — any  pretext  will  serve  ;  only  let  me 
dally  no  longer  here,"  when  young  Henry  came  flying  up  to 
him,  half  out  of  breath — "Master,  Master,  you  must  give 
Lucy  your  arm  back  to  the  castle,  for  I  cannot  give  her  mine  ; 
for  Norman  is  waiting  for  me,  and  I  am  to  go  with  him  to 
make  his  ring- walk,  and  I  would  not  stay  away  for  a  gold 


176  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

Jacobus ;  and  Lucy  is  afraid  to  walk  home  alone,  though  all 
the  wild  nowt  have  been  shot,  and  so  you  must  come  away 
directly/' 

Betwixt  two  scales  equally  loaded,  a  feather's  weight  will 
turn  the  scale.  "It  is  impossible  forme  to  leave  the  young 
lady  in  the  wood  alone,"  said  Eavenswood  ;  "to  see  her  once 
more  can  be  of  little  consequence,  after  the  frequent  meetings 
we  have  had.  I  ought,  too,  in  courtesy,  to  apprise  her  of  my 
intention  to  quit  the  castle." 

And  having  thus  satisfied  himself  that  he  was  taking  not 
only  a  wise,  but  an  absolutely  necessary,  step,  he  took  the  path 
to  the  fatal  fountain.  Henry  no  sooner  saw  him  on  the  way 
to  join  his  sister  than  he  was  off  like  lightning  in  another 
direction,  to  enjoy  the  society  of  the  forester  in  their  congenial 
pursuits.  Ravenswood,  not  allowing  himself  to  give  a  second 
thought  to  the  propriety  of  his  own  conduct,  walked  with  a 
quick  step  towards  the  stream,  where  he  found  Lucy  seated 
alone  by  the  ruin. 

She  sat  upon  one  of  the  disjointed  stones  of  the  ancient 
fountain,  and  seemed  to  watch  the  progress  of  its  current,  as  it 
bubbled  forth  to  daylight,  in  gay  and  sparkling  profusion,  from 
under  the  shadow  of  the  ribbed  and  darksome  vault,  with 
which  veneration,  or  perhaps  remorse,  had  canopied  its  source. 
To  a  superstitious  eye,  Lucy  Ashton,  folded  in  her  plaided 
mantle,  with  her  long  hair,  escaping  partly  from  the  snood  and 
falling  upon  her  silver  neck,  might  have  suggested  the  idea  of 
the  murdered  Nymph  of  the  Fountain.  But  Ravenswood  only 
saw  a  female  exquisitely  beautiful,  and  rendered  yet  more  so 
in  his  eyes — how  could  it  be  otherwise  ? — by  the  consciousness 
that  she  had  placed  her  affections  on  him.  As  he  gazed  on 
her,  he  felt  his  fixed  resolution  melting  like  wax  in  the  sun, 
and  hastened,  therefore,  from  his  concealment  in  the  neigh- 
boring thicket.  She  saluted  him,  but  did  not  arise  from 
the  stone  on  which  she  was  seated. 

"My  madcap  brother,"  she  said,  "has  left  me,  but  I  ex- 
pect him  back  in  a  few  minutes  ;  for,  fortunately,  as  anything 
pleases  him  for  a  minute,  nothing  has  charms  for  him  much 
longer." 

Ravenswood  did  not  feel  the  power  of  informing  Lucy 
that  her  brother  meditated  a  distant  excursion,  and  would  not 
return  in  haste.  He  sat  himself  down  on  the  grass,  at  some 
little  distance  from  Miss  Ashton,  and  both  were  silent  for  a 
short  space. 

"I  like  this  spot,"  said  Lucy  at  length,  as  if  she  had 
found  the  silence  embarrassing  ;  "  the  bubbling  murmur  of  the 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  177 

clear  fountain,  the  waving  of  the  trees,  the  profusion  of  grass 
and  wild-flowers  that  rise  among  the  ruins,  make  it  like  a 
scene  in  romance.  I  think,  too,  I  have  heard  it  is  a  spot 
connected  with  the  legendary  lore  which  I  love  so  well." 

"It  has  been  tliought,"  answered  Ravenswood,  "a  fatal 
spot  to  my  family ;  and  I  have  some  reason  to  term  it  so,  for 
it  was  here  I  first  saw  Miss  Ashton  ;  and  it  is  here  I  must  take 
my  leave  of  her  forever,"" 

The  blood,  which  the  first  part  of  this  speech  called  into 
Lucy"s  cheeks,  was  speedily  expelled  by  its  conclusion. 

"To  take  leave  of  us.  Master!"  she  exclaimed  ;  "what 
can  have  happened  to  hurry  you  away  ?  I  know  Alice  hates 
— I  mean  dislikes  my  father ;  and  I  hardly  understood  her 
humor  to-day,  it  was  so  mysterious.  But  I  am  certain  my 
father  is  sincerely  grateful  for  the  high  service  you  rendered 
us.  Let  me  hope  that,  having  won  your  friendship  hardly, 
we  shall  not  lose  it  lightly." 

"  Lose  it.  Miss  Ashton  ! "  said  the  Master  of  Eavenswood. 
'*  No ;  wherever  my  fortune  calls  me — whatever  she  inflicts 
upon  me — it  is  your  friend — your  sincere  friend,  who  acts  or 
suffers.  But  there  is  a  fate  on  me,  and  I  must  go,  or  I  shall 
add  the  ruin  of  others  to  my  own." 

"Yet  do  not  go  from  us.  Master,"  said  Lucy;  and  she 
laid  her  hand,  in  all  simplicity  and  kindness,  upon  the  skirt 
of  his  cloak,  as  if  to  detain  him.  "  You  shall  not  part  from 
us.  My  father  is  powerful,  he  has  friends  that  are  more  so 
than  himself ;  do  not  go  till  you  see  what  his  gratitude  will 
do  for  you.  Believe  me,  he  is  already  laboring  in  your 
behalf  with  the  council." 

"  It  may  be  so, "  said  the  Master,  proudly ;  "yet  it  is  not 
to  your  father.  Miss  Ashton,  but  to  my  own  exertions,  that 
I  ought  to  owe  success  in  the  career  on  which  I  am  about  to 
enter.  My  preparations  are  already  made — a  sword  and  a 
cloak,  and  a  bold  heart  and  a  determined  hand." 

Lucy  covered  her  face  with  her  hands,  and  the  tears,  in 
spite  of  her,  forced  their  way  between  her  fingers. 

"Forgive  me,"  said  Eavenswood,  taking  her  right  hand, 
which,  after  slight  resistance,  she  yielded  to  him,  still  continu- 
ing to  shade  her  face  with  the  left — "I  am  too  rude — too 
rough — too  intractable  to  deal  with  any  being  so  soft  and  gentle 
as  you  are.  Forget  that  so  stern  a  vision  has  crossed  your 
path  of  life  ;  and  let  me  pursue  mine,  sure  that  I  can  meet 
Avith  no  worse  misfortune  after  the  moment  it  divides  me  from 
your  side. " 

Lucy   wept  on,  but   her   tears   were  less   bitter.     Each 


178  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

attempt  which  tlie  Master  made  to  explain  his  purpose  of 
departure  only  proved  a  new  evidence  of  his  desire  to  stay  ; 
until,  at  length,  instead  of  bidding  her  farewell,  he  gave  his 
faith  to  her  forever,  and  received  her  troth  in  return.  The 
whole  passed  so  suddenly,  and  arose  so  much  out  of  the 
immediate  impulse  of  the  moment,  that  ere  the  Master  of 
Ravenswood  could  reflect  upon  the  consequences  of  the  step 
which  he  had  taken,  their  lips,  as  well  as  their  hands,  had 
pledged  the  sincerity  of  their  affection. 

"And  now,"  he  said,  after  a  moment's  consideration,  "  it 
is  fit  I  should  speak  to  Sir  William  Ashton  ;  he  must  know 
of  our  engagement.  Eavenswood  must  not  seem  to  dwell 
under  his  roof  to  solicit  clandestinely  the  affections  of  his 
daughter." 

"You  would  not  speak  to  my  father  on  the  subject  ?'" 
said  Lucy,  doubtingly  ;  and  then  added  more  warmly,  "  0 
do  not — do  not  !  Let  your  lot  in  life  be  determined — your 
station  and  purpose  ascertained,  before  you  address  my  father. 
I  am  sure  he  loves  you — I  think  he  will  consent ;  but  then 
my  mother \"  ■ 

She  paused,  ashamed  to  express  the  doubt  she  felt  how 
far  her  father  dared  to  form  any  positive  resolution  on  this 
most  important  subject  without  the  consent  of  his  lady. 

"  Your  mother,  my  Lucy  !  "  replied  Ravenswood.  "  She 
is  of  the  house  of  Douglas,  a  house  that  has  intermarried 
with  mine  even  when  its  glory  and  power  were  at  the  high- 
est ;  what  could  your  mother  object  to  my  alliance  ?" 

"  I  did  not  say  object,"  said  Lucy  ;  "but  she  is  jealous  of 
her  rights,  and  may  claim  a  mother's  title  to  be  consulted  in 
the  first  instance." 

"  Be  it  so,"  replied  Ravenswood.  "  London  is  distant, 
but  a  letter  will  reach  it  and  receive  an  answer  within  a  fort- 
night ;  I  will  not  press  on  the  Lord  Keeper  for  an  instant 
reply  to  my  proposal." 

"  But,"  hesitated  Lucy,  "were  it  not  better  to  wait — tc 
wait  a  few  weeks  ?  Were  my  mother  to  see  you — to  know 
you,  I  am  sure  she  would  approve  ;  but  you  are  unacquainted 
personally,  and  the  ancient  feud  between  the  families " 

Ravenswood  fixed  upon  her  his  keen  dark  eyes,  as  if  he 
was  desirous  of  penetrating  into  her  very  soul. 

" Lucy,"  he  said,  "I  have  sacrificed  to  you  projects  of 
vengeance  long  nursed,  and  sworn  to  with  ceremonies  little 
better  than  heathen — I  sacrificed  them  to  your  image,  ere  I 
knew  the  worth  which  it  represented.  In  the  evening  whicli 
succeeded  my  poor  father's  funeral,  I  cut  a  lock  from  my  hair. 


TBB  BBIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  179 

and,  as  it  consumed  in  the  fire,  swore  that  my  rage  and  re- 
venge should  pursue  his  enemies,  until  they  shrivelled  before 
me  like  that  scorched-up  symbol  of  annihilation." 

"It  was  a  deadly  sin,"  said  Lucy,  turning  pale,  "to  make 
a  vow  so  fatal." 

"I  acknowledge  it,"  said  Ravenswood,  "and  it  had  been 
a  worse  crime  to  keep  it.  It  was  for  your  sake  that  I  abjured 
these  purposes  of  vengeance,  though  I  scarce  knew  that  such 
was  the  argument  by  which  I  was  conquered,  until  I  saw  you 
once  more,  and  became  conscious  of  the  influence  you  possessed 
over  me." 

"And  why  do  you  now,"  said  Lucy,  "recall  sentiments  so 
terrible — sentiments  so  inconsistent  with  those  you  profess  for 
me — with  those  your  importunity  has  prevailed  on  me  to  ac- 
knowledge ?  " 

"  Because,"  said  her  lover,  "  I  would  impress  on  you  the 
price  at  which  I  have  bought  your  love— the  right  I  have  to 
expect  your  constancy.  I  say  not  that  I  have  bartered  for  it 
the  honor  of  my  house,  its  last  remaining  possession ;  but 
though  I  say  it  not,  and  think  it  not,  I  cannot  conceal  from 
myself  that  the  world  may  do  both." 

"If  such  are  your  sentiments,"  said  Lucy,  "you  have 
played  a  cruel  game  with  me.  But  it  is  not  too  late  to  give 
it  over :  take  back  the  faith  and  troth  which  you  could  not 
plight  to  me  without  suffering  abatement  of  honor — let  what 
is  passed  be  as  if  it  had  not  been — forget  me ;  I  will  endeavor 
to  forget  myself." 

"You  do  me  injustice,"  said  the  Master  of  Ravenswood — 
"  by  all  I  hold  true  and  honorable,  you  do  me  the  extremity 
of  injustice;  if  I  mentioned  the  price  at  which  I  have  bought 
your  love,  it  is  only  to  show  how  much  I  prize  it,  to  bind  our 
engagement  by  a  still  firmer  tie,  and  to  show,  by  what  I  have 
done  to  attain  this  station  in  your  regard,  how  much  I  must 
suffer  should  you  ever  break  your  faith." 

"And  why,  Ravenswood,"  answered  Lucy,  "should  you 
think  that  possible  ?  Why  should  you  urge  me  with  even  the 
mention  of  infidelity  ?  Is  it  because  I  ask  you  to  delay  apply- 
ing to  my  father  for  a  little  space  of  time  ?  Bind  me  by  what 
vows  you  please ;  if  vows  are  unnecessary  to  secure  constancy, 
they  may  yet  prevent  suspicion." 

Ravenswood  pleaded,  apologized,  and  even  kneeled,  to 
appease  her  displeasure ;  and  Luc}-,  as  placable  as  she  was 
single-hearted,  readily  forgave  the  offence  which  his  doubts 
had  implied.  The  dispute  thus  agitated,  however,  ended  by 
the  lovers  going  through  an  emblematic  ceremony  of  their 


180  WAVERLEV  NOVELS 

troth-plight,  of  which  the  vulgar  still  preserve  some  traces. 
They  broke  betwixt  them  the  tliin  broad-piece  of  gold  which 
Alice  had  refused  to  receive  from  Eavenswood. 

"And  never  shall  this  leave  my  bosom,"  said  Lucy,  as  she 
hung  the  piece  of  gold  round  her  neck,  and  concealed  it  with 
her  handkerchief,  "until  you,  Edgar  Eavenswood,  ask  me  to 
resign  it  to  you  ;  and,  while  I  wear  it,  never  shall  that  heart 
acknowledge  another  love  than  yours." 

With  like  protestations,  Eavenswood  placed  his  portion  of 
the  coin  opposite  to  his  heart.  And  now,  at  length,  it  struck 
them  that  time  had  hurried  fast  on  during  this  interview, 
and  their  absence  at  the  castle  would  be  subject  of  remark,  if 
not  of  alarm.  As  they  arose  to  leave  the  fountain  which  had 
been  witness  of  their  mutual  engagement,  an  arrow  whistled 
through  the  air,  and  struck  a  raven  perched  on  the  sere  branch 
of  an  old  oak,  near  to  where  they  had  been  seated.  The  bird 
fluttered  a  few  yards  and  dropped  at  the  feet  of  Lucy,  whose 
dress  was  stained  with  some  spots  of  its  blood. 

Miss  Ashton  was  much  alarmed,  and  Eavenswood,  sur- 
prised and  angry,  looked  everywhere  for  the  marksman,  who 
had  given  them  a  proof  of  his  skill  as  little  expected  as  desired. 
He  was  not  long  of  discovering  himself,  being  no  other  than 
Henry  Ashton,  who  came  running  up  with  a  crossbow  in  his 
hand, 

"I  knew  I  should  startle  you,"  he  said;  "and  do  you 
know,  you  looked  so  busy  that  I  hoped  it  would  have  fallen 
souse  on  your  heads  before  you  were  aware  of  it.  What  was 
the  Master  saying  to  you,  Lucy  ?" 

"I  was  telling  your  sister  what  an  idle  lad  you  were,  keep- 
ing us  waiting  here  for  you  so  long,"  said  Eavenswood,  tc 
save  Lucy's  confusion. 

"  Waiting  for  me  !  Why,  I  told  you  to  see  Lucy  home, 
and  that  I  was  to  go  to  make  the  ring- walk  with  old  Norman 
in  the  Hayberry  thicket,  and  you  may  be  sure  that  would 
take  a  good  hour,  and  we  have  all  the  deer's  marks  and  fur- 
nishes got,  while  you  were  sitting  here  with  Lucy,  like  a  lazy 
loon." 

"  Well,  well,  Mr.  Henry,"  said  Eavenswood  ;  "  but  let 
us  see  how  you  will  answer  to  me  for  killing  the  raven.  Do 
you  know,  the  ravens  are  all  under  the  protection  of  the 
Lords  of  Eavenswood,  and  to  kill  one  in  their  presence  is  such 
bad  luck  that  it  deserves  the  stab  ?  " 

"  And  that's  what  Norman  said,"  replied  the  boy  :  "  he 
came  as  far  with  me  as  within  a  flight-shot  of  you,  and  he 
said  he  never  saw  a  raven  sit  still  so  near  livmg  folK,  and 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  181 

he  wished  it  might  be  for  good  luck,  for  the  raven  is  oae  of 
the  wildest  birds  that  flies,  unless  it  be  a  tame  one  ;  and  so 
I  crept  on  and  on,  till  I  was  within  threescore  yards  of  him, 
and  then  whiz  went  the  bolt,  and  there  he  lies,  faith  !  Was 
it  not  well  shot  ?  and,  I  dare  say,  I  have  not  shot  in  a  cross- 
bow— not  ten  times,  maybe." 

"  Admirably  shot,  indeed,"  said  Eavenswood  ;  "and  you 
will  be  a  fine  marksman  if  you  practise  hard." 

"  And  that's  what  Norman  says,"  answered  the  boy  ;  "  but 
I  am  sure  it  is  not  my  fault  if  I  do  not  practise  enougli  ;  for, 
of  free  will,  I  would  do  little  else,  only  my  father  and  tutor  are 
angry  sometimes,  and  only  Miss  Lucy  there  gives  herself  airs 
about  my  being  busy,  for  all  she  can  sit  idle  by  a  well-side 
the  whole  day,  when  she  has  a  handsome  young  gentleman  to 
prate  with.  I  have  known  her  do  so  twenty  times,  if  you 
will  believe  me." 

The  boy  looked  at  his  sister  as  he  spoke,  and,  in  the 
midst  of  his  mischievous  chatter,  had  the  sense  to  see  that  he 
was  really  inflicting  pain  upon  her,  though  without  being 
able  to  comprehend  the  cause  or  the  amount. 

"  Come  now,  Lucy,"  he  said,  "  don't  greet ;  and  if  I  have 
said  anything  beside  the  mark,  I'll  deny  it  again  ;  and  what 
does  the  Master  of  Eavenswood  care  if  you  had  a  hundred 
sweethearts  ?  so  ne'er  put  finger  in  your  eye  about  it." 

The  Master  of  Eavenswood  was,  for  the  moment,  scarce 
satisfied  with  what  he  heard  ;  yet  his  good  sense  naturally 
regarded  it  as  the  chatter  of  a  spoiled  boy,  who  strove  to  mor- 
tify his  sister  in  the  point  which  seemed  most  accessible  for 
the  time.  But,  although  of  a  temper  equally  slow  in  receiv- 
ing impressions  and  obstinate  in  retaining  them,  the  prattle 
of  Henry  served  to  nourish  in  his  mind  some  vague  suspicion 
that  his  present  engagement  might  only  end  in  his  being 
exposed,  like  a  conquered  enemy  in  a  Eoman  triumph,  a  cap- 
tive attendant  on  the  car  of  a  victor  who  meditated  only  the 
satiating  his  pride  at  the  expense  of  the  vanquished.  There 
was,  we  repeat  it,  no  real  ground  whatever  for  such  an  appre- 
hension, nor  could  he  be  said  seriously  to  entertain  such  for  a 
moment.  Indeed,  it  was  impossible  to  look  at  the  clear  blue 
eye  of  Lucy  Ashton,  and  entertain  the  slightest  permanent 
doubt  concerning  the  sincerity  of  her  disposition.  Still  bow- 
ever,  conscious  pride  and  conscious  poverty  combined  to 
render  a  mind  suspicious  which,  in  more  fortunate  circum- 
stances, would  have  been  a  stranger  to  that  as  well  as  to  every 
other  meanness. 

They  reached  the  castle,  where  Sir  William  Ashton,  who 


182  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

had  been  alarmed  by  the  length  of  their  stay,  met  them  in  the 
hall. 

"  Hal  Lucy/'  he  said,  ''been  in  any  other  company  than 
that  of  one  who  had  shown  he  had  so  complete  power  of  pro- 
tecting her,  he  confessed  he  should  have  been  very  uneasy, 
and  would  have  dispatched  persons  in  quest  of  them.  But, 
in  the  company  of  the  Master  of  Eavenswood,  he  knew  his 
daughter  had  nothing  to  dread." 

Lucy  commenced  some  apology  for  their  long  delay,  but, 
conscience-struck,  became  confused  as  she  proceeded  ;  and 
when  Ravens  wood,  coming  to  her  assistance,  endeavored  to 
render  the  explanation  complete  and  satisfactory,  he  only 
involved  himself  in  the  same  disorder,  like  one  who,  endeav- 
oring to  extricate  his  companion  from  a  slough,  entangles 
himself  in  the  same  tenacious  swamp.  It  cannot  be  supposed 
that  the  confusion  of  the  two  youthful  lovers  escaped  the  ob- 
servation of  the  subtle  lawyer,  accustomed,  by  habit  and  pro- 
fession, to  trace  human  nature  through  all  her  windings. 
But  it  was  not  his  present  policy  to  take  any  notice  of  what 
he  observed.  He  desired  to  hold  the  Master  of  Ravenswood 
bound,  but  wished  that  he  himself  should  remain  free  ;  and 
it  did  not  occur  to  him  that  his  plan  might  be  defeated  by 
Lucy's  returning  the  passion  which  he  hoped  she  might  in- 
spire. If  she  should  adopt  some  romantic  feelings  towards 
Eavenswood,  in  which  circumstances,  or  the  positive  and  ab- 
solute opposition  of  Lady  Ashton,  might  render  it  unadvis- 
able  to  indulge  her,  the  Lord  Keeper  conceived  they  might 
be  easily  superseded  and  annulled  by  a  journey  to  Edinburgh, 
or  even  to  London,  a  new  set  of  Brussels  lace,  and  the  soft 
wliispers  of  half  a  dozen  lovers,  anxious  to  replace  him  whom 
it  was  convenient  she  should  renounce.  This  was  his  pro- 
vision for  the  worst  view  of  the  case.  But,  according  to  its 
more  probable  issue,  any  passing  favor  she  might  entertain 
for  the  Master  of  Eavenswood  might  require  encouragement 
rather  than  repression. 

This  seemed  the  more  likely,  as  he  had  that  very  morn- 
ing, since  their  departure  from  the  castle,  received  a  letter, 
the  contents  of  which  he  hastened  to  communicate  to  Eavens- 
wood. A  foot-post  had  arrived  with  a  packet  to  the  Lord 
Keeper  from  that  friend  whom  we  have  already  mentioned, 
who  was  laboring  hard  underhand  to  consolidate  a  band  of 
patriots,  at  the  head  of  whom  stood  Sir  William's  greatest 

terror,  the   active   and  ambitious  Marquis  of  A .     The 

success  of  this  convenient  friend  had  been  such,  that  he  had 
obtained  from  Sir  William,  not  indeed  a  directly  favorable 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  188 

answer,  but  certainly  a  most  patient  hearing.  This  he  had 
jeported  to  his  principal,  who  had  replied  by  the  ancient 
'^"'rench  adage,  "  Chateau  quiparle,  etfemme  qui  ecoute,  Vun  et 
'autre  va  se  rendre."  A  statesman  who  hears  you  propose  a 
ihange  of  measures  without  reply  was,  according  to  the  Mar- 
juis's  opinion,  in  the  situation  of  the  fortress  which  parleys 
:ind  the  lady  who  listens,  and  he  resolved  to  press  the  siege 
of  the  Lord  Keej)er. 

The  packet,  therefore,  contained  a  letter  from  his  friend 
and  ally,  and  another  from  himself,  to  the  Lord  Keeper, 
frankly  offering  an  unceremonious  visit.  They  were  cross- 
ing the  country  to  go  to  the  southward  ;  the  roads  were  indif- 
ferent ;  the  accommodation  of  the  inns  as  execrable  as  possi- 
ble ;  the  Lord  Keeper  had  been  long  acquainted  intimately 
with  one  of  his  correspondents,  and,  though  more  slightly 
known  to  the  Marquis,  had  yet  enough  of  his  lordship's 
acquaintance  to  render  the  visit  sufficiently  natural,  and  to 
shut  the  mouths  of  those  who  might  be  disposed  to  impute 
it  to  a  political  intrigue.  He  instantly  accepted  the  offered 
visit,  determined,  however,  that  he  would  not  pledge  himself 
an  inch  farther  for  the  furtherance  of  their  views  than  reasoii 
(by  which  he  meant  his  own  self-interest)  should  plainly 
point  out  to  him  as  proper. 

Two  circumstances  particularly  delighted  him — the  pres- 
ence of  Eavenswood,  and  the  absence  of  his  own  lady.  By 
having  the  former  under  his  roof,  he  conceived  he  might  be 
able  to  quash  all  such  hazardous  and  hostile  proceediugs  as 
he  might  otherwise  have  been  engaged  in,  under  the  patron- 
age of  the  Marquis  ;  and  Lucy,  he  foresaw,  would  make,  for 
his  immediate  purpose  of  delay  and  procrastination,  a  much 
better  mistress  of  his  family  than  her  mother,  who  would,  he 
was  sure,  in  some  shape  or  otlier,  contrive  to  disconcert  his 
political  schemes  by  her  proud  and  implacable  temper. 

His  anxious  solicitations  that  the  Master  would  stay  to  re- 
ceive his  kinsman,  were,  of  course,  readily  complied  with,  since 
the  eclaircissement  which  had  taken  place  at  the  Mermaiden's 
Fountain  had  removed  all  wish  for  sudden  departure.  Lucy 
and  Lockhard  had,  therefore,  orders  to  provide  all  things 
necessary  in  their  different  departments,  for  receiving  the  ex- 
pected guests  with  a  pomp  and  display  of  luxury  very  uncom- 
mon in  Scotland  at  that  remote  period. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

Marall.  Sir,  the  man  of  honor's  come, 
Newly  aUghted 

Overreach.  In  without  reply, 
And  do  as  I  command.  .  .    . 
Is  the  ioud  music  I  gave  order  for 
Ready  to  receive  him  ? 

New  Way  to  pay  Old  Debts. 

Sir  William  Ashton,  although  a  man  of  sense,  legal  infor- 
mation, and  great  practical  knowledge  of  the  world,  had  yet 
some  points  of  character  which  corresponded  better  with  the 
timidity  of  his  disjiosition  and  the  supple  arts  by  which  he 
had  risen  in  the  world,  than  to  the  degree  of  eminence  which 
he  had  attained  ;  as  they  tended  to  show  an  original  medi- 
ocrity of  understanding,  however  highly  it  had  been  cultivated, 
and  a  native  meanness  of  disposition,  however  carefully 
veiled.  He  loved  the  ostentatious  display  of  his  wealth,  less 
as  a  man  to  whom  habit  has  made  it  necessary,  than  as  one 
to  whom  it  is  still  delightful  from  its  novelty.  The  most 
trivial  details  did  not  escape  him  ;  and  Lucy  soon  learned  to 
watali  the  flush  of  scorn  which  crossed  Ravenswood's  cheek, 
when  he  heard  her  father  gravely  arguing  with  Lockhard, 
nay,  even  with  the  old  housekeeper,  upon  circumstances 
which,  in  families  of  rank,  are  left  uncared  for,  because  it  is 
supposed  impossible  they  can  be  neglected. 

"  I  could  pardon  Sir  William,"  said  Ravenswood,  one 
evening  after  he  had  left  the  room.  "  some  general  anxiety 
upon  this  occasion,  for  the  Marquis's  visit  is  an  honor,  and 
should  be  received  as  such  ;  but  I  am  worn  out  by  these  miser- 
able minutiae  of  the  buttery,  and  the  larder,  and  the  very 
hen-coop — they  drive  me  beyond  my  patience  ;  I  would  rather 
endure  the  poverty  of  Wolf's  Crag  than  be  pestered  with  the 
wealth  of  Ravenswood  Castle." 

"And  yet,"  said  Lucy,  "it  was  by  attention  to  these 
minutiae  that  my  father  acquired  the  property " 

"  Which  my  ancestors  sold  for  lack  of  it,"  replied  Ravens- 
wood. "  Be  it  so  ;  a  porter  still  bears  but  a  burden,  though 
the  burden  be  of  gold-" 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  185 

Lncy  sighed  ;  she  perceived  too  plainly  that  her  lover  held 
in  scorn  the  manners  and  habits  of  a  father  to  whom  she  had 
long  looked  up  as  her  best  and  most  partial  friend,  whose 
fondness  had  often  consoled  her  for  her  mother's  contemptu- 
ous harshness. 

The  lovers  soon  discovered  that  they  differed  upon  other 
and  no  less  important  topics.  Religion,  the  mother  of  peace, 
was,  in  those  days  of  discord,  so  much  misconstrued  and  mis- 
taken, that  her  rules  and  forms  were  the  subject  of  the  most 
opposite  opinions  and  the  most  hostile  animosities.  The  Lord 
Keeper,  being  a  Whig,  was,  of  course,  a  Presbyterian,  and  had 
found  it  convenient,  at  different  periods,  to  express  greater 
zeal  for  the  kirk  than  perhaps  he  really  felt.  His  family, 
equally  of  course,  were  trained  under  the  same  institution. 
Ravenswood,  as  we  know,  was  a  Higli  Churchman,  or  Epis- 
copalian, and  frequently  objected  to  Lucy  the  fanaticism  of 
some  of  her  own  communion,  while  she  intimated,  rather  than 
expressed,  horror  at  the  latitudinarian  principles  which  she 
had  been  taught  to  think  connected  with  the  prelatical  form 
of  church  government. 

Thus,  although  their  mutual  affection  seemed  to  increase 
rather  than  to  l)e  diminished  as  their  characters  opened  more 
fully  on  each  other,  tbe  feelings  of  each  were  mingled  with 
some  less  agreeable  ingredients.  Lucy  felt  a  secret  awe,  amid 
all  her  affection  for  Ravenswood.  His  soul  was  of  a  higher, 
prouder  character  than  those  with  whom  she  had  hitherto 
mixed  in  intercourse  ;  his  ideas  were  more  fierce  and  free  ; 
and  he  contemned  many  of  the  opinions  which  had  been  in- 
culcated upon  her  as  chiefly  demanding  her  veneration.  On 
the  other  hand,  Ravenswood  saw  in  Lucy  a  soft  and  flexible 
character,  which,  in  his  eyes  at  least,  seemed  too  susceptible 
of  being  moulded  to  any  form  b}^  those  with  whom  she  lived. 
He  felt  that  his  own  temper  required  a  partner  of  a  more 
independent  spirit,  who  could  set  sail  witli  him  on  his  course 
of  life,  resolved  as  himself  to  dare  indifferently  tlie  storm  and 
the  favoring  breeze.  But  Lucy  was  so  beautiful,  so  devoutly 
attached  to  him,  of  a  temper  so  exquisitely  soft  and  kind, 
that,  while  he  could  have  wished  it  were  possible  to  inspire 
her  with  a  greater  degree  of  firmness  and  resolution,  and 
while  he  sometimes  became  impatient  of  the  extreme  fear 
which  slie  exjiressed  of  their  attachment  being  prematurely 
discovered,  he  felt  that  the  softness  of  a  mind,  amounting 
almost  to  feebleness,  rendered  her  even  dearer  to  him,  as  a 
being  who  had  voluntarily  clung  to  him  for  protection,  and 
made  him  the  arbiter  of  her  fate  for  weal  or  woe.     His  feel- 


18«  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

ings  towards  her  at  such  moments  were  those  which  have 
been  since  so  beautifully  expressed  by  our  immortal  Joanna 
Baillie  : 

Thou  sweetest  thing, 
That  e'er  did  fix  its  lightly-fibred  sprays 
To  the  rude  rock,  ah  !  wouldst  thou  cling  to  me  ? 
Rough  and  storm-worn  1  am  ;  yet  love  me  as 
Thou  truly  dost,  I  will  love  thee  again 
With  true  and  lionest  heart,  though  all  unmeet 
To  be  the  mate  of  such  sweet  gentleness. 

Thus  the  very  points  in  which  they  differed  seemed,  in 
some  measure,  to  insure  the  continuance  of  their  mutual  af- 
fection. If,  indeed,  they  had  so  fully  appreciated  each  other's 
character  before  the  burst  of  passion  in  which  they  hastily 
pledged  their  faith  to  each  other,  Lucy  might  have  feared 
Kavenswood  too  much  ever  to  have  loved  him,  and  he  might 
have  construed  her  softness  and  docile  temper  as  imbecility, 
rendering  her  unworthy  of  his  regard.  But  they  stood 
pledged  to  each  other  ;  and  Lucy  only  feared  that  her  lover's 
pride  might  one  day  teach  him  to  regret  his  attachment ;  Ea- 
venswood,  that  a  mind  so  ductile  as  Lucy's  might,  in  absence  or 
difficulties,  be  induced,  by  the  entreaties  or  influence  of  those 
around  her,  to  renounce  the  engagement  she  had  formed. 

"Do not  fear  it,"  said  Lucy,  when  upon  one  occasion  a 
hint  of  such  suspicion  escaped  her  lover  ;  "the  mirrors  which 
receive  the  reflection  of  all  successive  objects  are  framed  of 
hard  materials  like  glass  or  steel ;  the  softer  substances,  when 
they  receive  an  impression,  retain  it  undefaced." 

"This  is  poetry,  Lucy,"  said  EavensAvood  ;  "and  in  poetry 
there  is  always  fallacy,  and  sometimes  fiction." 

"Believe  me,  then,  once  more,  "in  honest  prose,"  said 
Lucy,  "that,  though  I  will  never  wed  man  without  the  con- 
sent of  my  parents,  yet  neither  force  nor  persuasion  shall  dis- 
pose of  my  hand  till  you  renounce  the  right  I  have  given  you 
to  it." 

The  lovers  had  ample  time  for  such  explanations.  Henry 
was  noAv  more  seldom  their  companion,  being  either  a  most 
unwilling  attendant  upon  the  lessons  of  his  tutor,  or  a  for- 
ward volunteer  under  the  instructions  of  the  foresters  or 
grooms.  As  for  the  Keeper,  his  mornings  were  spent  in  his 
study,  maintaining  correspondences  of  all  kinds,  and  balanc- 
ing in  his  anxious  mind  the  various  intelligence  which  he 
collected  from  every  quarter  concerning  the  expected  change 
of  Scottish  politics,  and  the  probable  strength  of  the  parties 
who  were  about  to  struggle  for  poAver.     At  other  times  he 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  \87 

busied  himself  aboiit  arranging,  and  countermanding,  and 
then    again  arranging,   the  preparations    which  he   judged 

necessary  for  the  reception  of  the  Marquis  of  A ,  whose 

arrival  had  been  twice  delayed  by  some  necessary  cause  of 
detention. 

In  tlie  midst  of  all  these  various  avocations,  political  and 
domestic,  he  seemed  not  to  observe  how  much  his  daughter  and 
his  guest  were  thrown  into  each  other's  society,  and  was  cen- 
sured by  many  of  his  neighbors,  according  to  the  fashion  of 
neighbors  in  all  countries,  for  suffering  such  an  intimate  con- 
nection to  take  place  betwixt  two  young  persons.  The  only 
natural  explanation  was,  that  he  designed  them  for  each  other  ; 
while,  in  truth,  his  only  motive  was  to  temporize  and  procras- 
tinate until  he  should  discover  the  real  extent  of  the  interest 
which  the  Marquis  took  in  Ravenswood's  affairs,  and  the 
power  which  he  was  likely  to  possess  of  advancing  them. 
Until  these  points  should  be  made  both  clear  and  manifest, 
the  Lord  Keeper  resolved  that  he  would  do  nothing  to  com- 
mit himself,  either  in  one  shape  or  other ;  and,  like  many 
cnnning  persons,  he  over-reached  himself  deplorably. 

Among  those  wlio  had  been  disposed  to  censure,  with  the 
greatest  severity,  the  conduct  of  Sir  William  Ashton,  in  per- 
mitting the  prolonged  residence  of  Eavenswood  under  his 
roof,  and  his  constant  attendance  on  Miss  Ashton,  was  the 
new  Laird  of  Grirnington,  and  his  faithful  squire  and  bottle- 
holder,  personages  formerly  well  known  to  us  by  the  names 
of  Hayston  and  Bucklaw,  and  his  companion  Captain  Craig- 
engelt.  The  former  had  at  length  succeeded  to  the  extensive 
property  of  his  long-lived  grandaunt,  and  to  considerable 
wealth  besides,  which  he  had  employed  in  redeeming  his  pa- 
ternal acres  (by  the  title  appertaining  to  which  he  still  chose 
to  be  designated),  notwithstanding  Captain  Craigengelt  had 
proposed  to  him  a  most  advantageous  mode  of  vesting  the 
money  in  Law's  scheme,  which  was  just  then  broached,  and 
offered  his  services  to  travel  express  to  Paris  for  the  purpose. 
But  Bucklaw  had  so  far  derived  wisdom  from  adversity,  that 
he  would  listen  to  no  proposal  which  Craigengelt  could  invent, 
which  had  the  slightest  tendency  to  risk  his  newly-acquired 
indejiendence.  He  that  had  once  eat  pea- bannocks,  drunk 
sour  wine,  and  slept  in  the  secret  chamber  at  Wolf's  Crag, 
would,  he  said,  prize  good  cheer  and  a  soft  bed  as  long  as  he 
lived,  and  take  special  care  never  to  need  such  hospitality 
again. 

Craigengelt,  therefore,  found  himself  disappointed  in  tho 
first  hopes  he  had  entertained  of  making  a  good  hand  of  the 


188  WAVJUULJiJy  JSOVEL8 

Laird  of  Bucklaw.  Still,  however,  he  reaped  mauy  advan- 
tages from  his  friend's  good  fortune.  Bucklaw,  who  had 
never  been  at  all  scrupulous  in  choosing  his  companions,  was 
accustom.ed  to,  and  entertained  by,  a  fellow  whom  he  could 
either  laugh  with  or  laugh  at  as  he  had  a  mind,  who  would 
take,  according  to  Scottish  phrase,  "  the  bit  and  the  bulfet/^ 
understood  all  sports,  whether  within  or  without  doors,  and, 
when  the  laird  had  a  mind  for  a  bottle  of  wine  (no  infrequent 
circumstance),  was  always  ready  to  save  him  from  the  scandal 
of  getting  drunk  by  himself.  Upon  these  terms,  Craigengelt 
was  the  frequent,  almost  the  constant,  inmate  of  the  house 
of  Girnington. 

In  no  time,  and  under  no  possibility  of  circumstances, 
could  good  have  been  derived  from  such  an  intimacy,  however 
its  bad  consequences  might  be  qualified  by  the  thorough 
knowledge  which  Bucklaw  possessed  of  his  dependant's  char- 
acter, and  the  high  contempt  in  which  he  held  it.  But,  as 
circumstances  stood,  this  evil  communication  was  particular- 
ly liable  to  corrupt  what  good  principles  nature  had  im- 
planted in  the  patron. 

Craigengelt  had  never  forgiven  the  scorn  with  which 
Eavenswood  had  torn  the  mask  of  courage  and  honesty  from 
his  countenance  ;  and  to  exasperate  Bucklaw's  resentment 
against  him  was  the  safest  mode  of  revenge  which  occurred 
to  his  cowardly,  yet  cunning  and  malignant,  disposition. 

He  brought  up  on  all  occasions  the  story  of  the  challenge 
which  Eavenswood  had  declined  to  accept,  and  endeavored, 
by  every  possible  insinuation,  to  make  his  jDatron  believe  that 
his  honor  was  concerned  in  bringing  that  matter  to  an  issue 
by  a  present  discussion  with  Eavenswood.  But  resi)ecting 
this  subject  Bucklaw  imposed  on  him,  at  length,  a  peremp- 
tory command  of  silence. 

"I  think,"  he  said,  "the  Master  has  treated  me  unlike  a 
gentleman,  and  I  see  no  right  he  had  to  send  me  back  a  cava- 
lier answer  when  I  demanded  the  satisfaction  of  one.  But 
he  gave  me  my  life  once  ;  and,  in  looking  the  matter  over  at 
present,  I  put  myself  but  on  equal  terms  with  him.  Should 
he  cross  me  again,  I  shall  consider  the  old  account  as  bal- 
anced, and  his  Mastership  will  do  well  to  look  to  himself." 

"  That  he  should,"  re-echoed  Craigengelt ;  "for  when  you 
are  in  practice,  Bucklaw,  I  would  bet  a  magnum  you  are 
through  him  before  the  third  pass." 

"  Then  you  know  notliing  of  the  matter,"  said  Bucklaw, 
"and  you  never  saAv  him  fence." 

*'  And  I  know  nothing  of  the  matter  ?  "  said  the  depend- 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  189 

ant — "  A  good  jest,  I  promise  you  !  And  though  I  never  saw 
Ravenswood  fence,  have  I  not  been  at  Monsieur  Sagoon's 
school,  who  was  the  first  maitre  d'armes  at  Paris  ;  and  have 
I  not  been  at  Signer  Poco'sat  Florence,  andMeinherr  Durch- 
stossen's  at  Vienna,  and  have  I  not  seen  all  their  play  ?  " 

'"'  I  don't  know  whetlier  you  have  or  not,"  said  Biicklaw ; 
"but  what  about  it,  though  you  had  ?" 

"  Only  that  I  will  be  d — d  if  ever  I  saw  French,  Italian, 
or  High-Dutchman  ever  make  foot,  hand,  and  eye  keep  time 
half  so  well  as  you,  Bucklaw." 

"  I  believe  you  lie,  Craigie,"  said  Bucklaw  ;  "however,  I 
can  hold  my  own,  both  with  single  rapier,  backsword,  sword 
and  dagger,  broadsword,  or  case  of  falchions — and  that's  as 
much  as  any  gentleman  need  know  of  the  matter." 

"  And  tlie  double  of  what  ninety-nine  out  of  a  hundred 
know,"  said  Craigengelt  ;  "  they  learn  to  change  a  few  thrusts 
with  the  small  sword,  and  then,  forsooth,  they  understand 
the  noble  art  of  defence  !  Now,  when  I  was  at  Eouen  in  the 
year  1695,  there  was  a  Chevalier  de  Chapon  and  I  went  to 
the  opera,  where  we  found  three  bits  of  English  birkies " 

••'  Is  it  a  long  story  you  are  going  to  tell  ?"  said  Bucklaw, 
interrupting  him  without  ceremony. 

"  Just  as  you  like,"  answered  the  parasite,  "for  we  made 
short  work  of  it." 

"Then  I  like  it  short,"  said  Bucklaw.  " Is  it  serious  or 
merry  ?  " 

"  Devilish  serious,  I  assure  you,  and  so  they  found  it ;  for 
the  Chevalier  and  I " 

"  Then  I  don't  like  it  at  all,"  said  Bucklaw;  "so  fill  a  brim- 
mer of  my  auld  auntie's  claret,  rest  her  heart!  And,  as  the 
Hielandman  says,  Skiocli  clock  na  skiaiU." 

"That  was  what  tough  old  Sir  Evan  Dhu  used  to  say  to 
me  when  I  was  out  with  the  metalled  lads  in  1689.  '  Craig- 
engelt,' he  used  to  say,  'you  are  as  pretty  a  fellow  as  ever 
held  steel  in  his  grip,  but  j'ou  have  one  fault.'" 

"  If  he  had  known  you  as  long  as  I  have  done,'^  said  Buck- 
law,  "lie  would  have  found  out  some  twenty  more  ;  but  hang 
long  stories,  give  us  your  toast,  man." 

Craigengelt  rose,  went  a- tiptoe  to  the  door,  peeped  out, 
shut  it  carefully,  came  back  again,  clapped  his  tarnished  gold- 
laced  hat  on  one  side  of  his  head,  took  his  glass  in  one  hand, 
and  touching  the  hilt  of  his  hanger  with  the  other,  named, 
"The  King  over  the  water." 

"I  tell  you  what  It  is.  Captain  Craigengelt,"  said  Buck- 
law  j  "I  shall  keep  my  mind  to  myself  on  these  subjects? 


190  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

having  too  much  respect  for  the  memory  of  my  venerable 
Girnington  to  put  her  lands  and  tenements  in  the  way 
oi  committing  treason  against  established  authority.  Bring 
me  King  James  to  Edinburgh,  Captain,  with  thirty  thousand 
men  at  his  back,  and  I'll  tell  you  what  I  think  about  his  title  ; 
but  as  for  running  my  neck  into  a  noose,  and  my  good  broad 
lands  into  the  statutory  penalties,  'in  that  case  made  and 
provided,^  rely  upon  it,  you  will  find  me  no  such  fool.  So 
when  you  mean  to  vapor  with  your  hanger  and  your  dram- 
cup  in  support  of  treasonable  toasts,  you  must  find  your  liquor 
and  company  elsewhere." 

"Well,  then,"  said  Craigengelt,  "name  the  toast  your- 
self, and  be  it  what  it  like,  I'll  pledge  you,  were  it  a  mile  to 
the  bottom." 

"  And  ril  give  you  a  toast  that  deserves  it,  my  boy,"  said 
Bucklaw  ;  "  what  say  you  to  Miss  Lucy  Ashton  ?" 

"  Up  Avith  it,"  said  the  Captain, as  he  tossed  off  his  brim- 
mer, "the  bonniest  lass  in  Lothian  !  What  a  pity  the  old 
sneckdrawing  Whigamore,  her  father,  is  about  to  throw  her 
away  upon  that  rag  of  pride  and  beggary,  the  Master  of  Ra- 
venswood ! " 

"  That's  not  quite  so  clear,"  said  Bucklaw,  in  a  tone  which, 
though  it  seemed  indifferent,  excited  his  companion's  eager 
curiosity ;  and  not  that  only,  but  also  his  hope  of  working 
himself  into  some  sort  of  confidence,  which  might  make  him 
necessary  to  his  patron,  being  by  no  means  satisfied  to  rest  on 
mere  sufferance,  if  he  could  form  by  art  or  industry  a  more 
permanent  title  to  his  favor. 

"I  thought,"  said  he,  after  a  moment's  pause,  "that  was 
a  settled  matter ;  they  are  continually  together,  and  nothing 
else  is  spoken  of  betwixt  Lammer  Law  and  Traprain." 

"They  may  say  what  they  please,"  replied  his  patron, 
^'but  I  know  better ;  and  I'll  give  you  Miss  Lucy  Ashton's 
health  again,  my  boy." 

"  And  I  would  drink  it  on  my  knee,"  said  Craigengelt,  "if 
I  thought  the  girl  had  the  spirit  to  jilt  that  d — d  son  of  a 
Spaniard." 

"  I  am  to  request  you  will  not  use  the  word  '  jilt '  and  Miss 
Ashton's  name  together,"  said  Bucklaw,  gravely. 

"  Jilt,  did  I  say  ?  Discard,  my  lad  of  acres — by  Jove,  I 
meant  to  say  discard,"  replied  Craigengelt;  "and  I  hope 
she'll  discard  him  like  a  small  card  at  piquet,  and  take  in  the 
king  of  hearts,  my  boy  !     But  yet " 

"  But  what  ?  "  said  his  patron. 

"  But  yet  I  know  for  certain  they  are  hours  together  alone^ 
and  in  the  woods  and  the  fields/' 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  191 

**  That's  lier  foolish  father's  dotage  ;  that  will  be  soon  put 
out  of  the  lass's  head,  if  it  ever  gets  into  it,"  answered  Buck- 
law.  "And  now  fill  your  glass  again.  Captain  ;  I  am  going 
to  make  you  happy  ;  I  am  going  to  let  you  into  a  secret — a 
plot — a  noosing  plot — only  the  noose  is  but  typical." 

"x\.  marrying  matter  ?"  said  Craigengelt,  and  his  jaw  fell 
as  he  asked  the  question  ;  for  he  suspected  that  matrimony 
would  render  his  situation  at  Girnington  much  more  precari- 
ous than  during  the  jolly  days  of  his  patron's  bachelorhood. 

"Ay,  a  marriage,  man,"  said  Bucklaw ;  "but  wherefore 
droops  thy  mighty  spirit,  and  why  grow  the  rubies  on  thy 
cheek  so  pale  ?  The  board  will  have  a  corner,  and  the  corner 
will  have  a  trencher,  and  the  trencher  will  have  a  glass  beside 
it ;  and  the  board-end  shall  be  filled,  and  the  trencher  and 
the  glass  shall  be  replenished  for  thee,  if  all  the  petticoats  in 
Lothian  had  sworn  tlie  contrary.  What,  man  !  I  am  not  the 
boy  to  put  myself  into  leading-strings." 

"So  says  many  an  honest  fellow,"  said  Craigengelt,  "  and 
some  of  my  special  friends  ;  but,  curse  me  if  I  know  the  rea- 
son, the  women  could  never  bear  me,  and  always  contrived 
to  trundle  me  out  of  favor  before  the  honeymoon  was  over." 

"If  you  could  have  kept  your  ground  till  that  was  over, 
you  might  have  made  a  good  year's  pension,"  said  Bucklaw. 

"  But  I  never  could,"  answered  the  dejected  parasite. 
"  There  was  my  Lord  Castle-Cuddy — we  were  hand  and 
glove  :  I  rode  his  horses,  borrowed  money  both  for  him  and 
from  him,  trained  his  hawks,  and  taught  him  how  to  lay  his 
bets  ;  and  when  he  took  a  fancy  of  marrying,  I  married  him 
to  Katie  Grlegg,  whom  I  thought  myself  as  sure  of  as  man 
could  be  of  woman.  Egad,  she  had  me  out  of  the  house,  as 
if  I  had  run  on  wheels,  within  the  first  fortnight ! " 

"Well  !"  replied  Bucklaw,  "I  think  I  have  nothing  of 
Castle-Cuddy  about  me,  or  Lucy  of  Katie  Glegg.  But  you 
see  the  thing  will  go  on  whether  you  like  it  or  no ;  the  only 
question  is,  will  you  be  useful  ?  " 

"  Useful ! "  exclaimed  the  Captain,  "  and  to  thee,  my  lad 
of  lands,  my  darling  boy,  whom  I  would  tramp  barefooted 
through  the  world  for  !  Name  time,  place,  mode,  and  cir- 
cumstances, and  see  if  I  will  not  be  useful  iu  all  uses  that  can 
be  devised." 

"  Why,  then,  you  must  ride  two  hundred  miles  for  me,*' 
said  the  patron. 

"  A  thousand,  and  call  them  a  flea's  leap,"  answered  the 
dependant ;  "  I'll  cause  saddle  my  horse  directly." 

"  Better  stay  till  you  know  where  you  are  to  go,  and  what 


193  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

you  are  to  do,"  quoth  Bucklaw.  ''  You  know  I  nave  a  kins- 
woman in  Northumberland,  Lady  Blenkensop  by  name,  whose 
old  acquaintance  I  had  tlie  misfortune  to  lose  in  the  period  of 
my  poverty,  but  the  light  of  whose  countenance  shone  forth 
upon  me  when  the  sun  of  my  prosjjerity  began  to  arise/' 

''  D — n  all  such  double-faced  jades  I"  exclaimed  Craigen- 
gelt,  heroically  ;  "  this  I  Avill  say  for  John  Craigengelt,  that 
he  is  his  friend's  friend  through  good  report  and  bad  report, 
poverty  and  riches ;  and  you  know  something  of  that  your- 
self, Bucklaw." 

"  I  have  not  forgot  your  merits,"  said  his  patron  ;  "I  do 
remember  that,  in  my  extremities,  you  had  a  mind  to  crimp 
me  for  the  service  of  the  French  king,  or  of  the  Pretender  ; 
and,  moreover,  that  you  afterwards  lent  me  a  score  of  pieces, 
wlien,  as  I  firmly  believe,  you  had  heard  the  news  that  old 
Lady  Girnington  liad  a  touch  of  the  dead  palsy.  But  don't 
be  downcast,  John  ;  I  believe,  after  all,  you  like  me  very  well 
in  your  way,  and  it  is  my  misfortune  to  have  no  better  coun- 
sellor at  present.  To  return  to  this  Lady  Blenkensop,  you 
must  know,  she  is  a  close  confederate  of  Duchess  Sarah." 

"What!  of  Sail  Jennings?"  exclaimed  Craigengelt; 
**tlien  she  must  be  a  good  one." 

"Hold  your  tongue,  and  keep  your  Tory  rants  to  yourself, 
if  it  be  possible,"  said  Bucklaw.  "I  tell  you,  that  through 
the  Duchess  of  Marlborough  has  this  Northumbrian  cousin  of 
mine  become  a  crony  of  Lady  Ashton,  the  Keeper's  wife,  or, 
I  may  say,  the  Lord  Keeper's  Lady  Keeper,  and  she  has  fa- 
vored Lady  Blenkensop  with  a  visit  on  her  return  from  Lon- 
don, and  is  just  now  at  her  old  mansion-house  on  the  banks  of 
the  Wansbeck.  Now,  sir,  as  it  has  been  the  use  and  wont  of 
these  ladies  to  consider  their  husbands  as  of  no  importance  in 
the  management  of  their  own  families,  it  has  been  their  ]3resent 
pleasure,  without  consulting  Sir  AVilliam  Ashton,  to  put  on 
the  tapis  a  matrimonial  alliance,  to  be  concluded  between  Lucy 
Ashton  and  my  own  right  honorable  self.  Lady  Ashton  acting 
as  self-constituted  plenipotentiary  on  the  part  of  her  daugh- 
ter and  husband,  and  Mother  Blenkensop,  equally  unac- 
credited, doing  me  the  honor  to  be  my  representative.  You 
may  suppose  I  was  a  little  astonished  when  I  found  that  a 
treaty,  in  which  I  was  so  considerably  interested,  had  ad- 
vanced a  good  way  before  I  was  even  consulted." 

*'Capot  me  !  if  I  think  that  was  according  to  the  rules  of 
the  game,"  said  his  confidant ;  "and  pray,  what  answer  did 
you  return?" 

*'Wh.y,  my  first  thought  was  to  send  the  treaty  to  the 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  193 

devil,  and  the  negotiators  along  with  it,  for  a  couple  of  med- 
dling old  women  ;  my  next  was  to  laugh  very  heartily ;  and 
ray  third  and  last  was  a  settled  opinion  that  the  thing  was  rea- 
sonable, and  would  suit  me  well  enougli." 

"  Why,  I  thought  you  had  never  seen  the  wench  but  once, 
and  then  she  had  her  riding-mask  on  ;  I  am  sure  you  told  me 
so." 

"  Ay,  but  I  liked  her  very  well  then.  And  Ravenswood'a 
dirty  usage  of  me — shutting  me  out  of  doors  to  dine  with  the 
lackeys,  because  he  had  the  Lord  Keeper,  forsootli,  and  his 
daughter,  to  be  guests  in  his  beggarly  castle  of  starvation, — 
d — n  me,  Craigengeit,  if  I  ever  forgive  him  till  I  play  him  as 
good  a  trick  ! " 

''  No  more  you  should,  if  you  are  a  lad  of  mettle,"  said 
Craigengeit,  the  matter  now  taking  a  turn  in  which  he  could 
sympathize  ;  ''and  if  you  carry  this  wench  from  him,  it  will 
break  his  heart." 

"  That  it  will  not,"  said  Bucklaw ;  "  his  heart  is  all 
steeled  over  with  reason  and  philosophy,  things  that  you, 
Craigie,  know  nothing  about  more  than  myself,  God  help 
me.  But  it  will  break  his  pride,  though,  and  that's  what  I'm 
driving  at." 

"  Distance  me  ! "  said  Craigengeit,  "  but  I  know  the  reason 
now  of  his  unmannerly  behavior  at  his  old  tumble-down  tower 
yonder.  Ashamed  of  your  company  ? — no,  no  !  Gad,  he 
was  afraid  you  would  cut  in  and  carry  off  the  girl." 

"Eh!  Craigengeit?"  said  Bucklaw,  ''do  you  really 
think  so  ?  but  no,  no  !  he  is  a  devilish  deal  prettier  man  than 
I  am." 

"  Who— he  ?"  exclaimed  the  parasite.  "  He's  as  black  aa 
the  crook  ;  and  for  his  size — he's  a  tall  fellow,  to  be  sure,  but 
give  me  a  light,  stout,  middle-sized " 

"Plague  on  thee!"  said  Bucklaw,  interrupting  him, 
"  and  on  me  for  listening  to  you  !  You  would  say  as  much 
if  I  were  hunch-backed.  But  as  to  Ravenswood — he  has 
kept  no  terms  with  me,  I'll  keep  none  with  him ;  if  I  can 
win  this  girl  from  him,  I  will  win  her." 

"  Win  her  !  'sblood,  you  shall  win  her,  point,  quint,  and 
quatorze,  my  king  of  trumps  ;  you  shall  pique,  repique,  and 
oapot  him." 

"  Prithee,  stop  thy  gambling  cant  for  one  instant,"  said 
Bucklaw.  "  Things  have  come  thus  far,  that  I  have  enter- 
tained the  proposal  of  my  kinswoman,  agreed  to  the  terms  of 
jointure,  amount  of  fortune,  and  so  forth,  and  tliat  the  affair 
is  to  go  forward  when  Lady  Ashton  corner  down,  for  she 


194  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

takes  her  daughter  and  her  son  in  her  own  hand.  Kow  they 
Avant  me  to  send  up  a  confidential  person  with  some  writmgs/' 

"  By  tliis  good  wine,  I'll  ride  to  the  end  of  the  world — 
the  very  gates  of  Jericho,  and  the  judgment-seat  of  Prester 
John,  for  thee  ! "  ejaculated  the  Captain. 

''  Why,  I  believe  you  would  do  something  for  me,  and  a 
great  deal  for  yourself.  Now,  any  one  could  carry  the  writ- 
ings ;  but  you  will  have  a  little  more  to  do.  You  must  contrive 
to  drop  out  before  my  Lady  Asliton,  just  as  if  it  were  a  matter 
of  little  consequence,  the  residence  of  Eavenswood  at  her 
husband's  house,  and  his  close  intercourse  with  Miss  Ashton  ; 
and  you  may  tell  her  that  all  the  country  talks  of  a  visit  from 

the  Marquis  of  A ,  as  it  is   supposed,  to  make  up  the 

match  betwixt  Eavenswood  and  her  daughter.  I  should  like 
to  hear  what  she  says  to  all  this ;  for,  rat  me  !  if  I  have  any 
idea  of  starting  for  the  plate  at  all  if  Eavenswood  is  to  win 
the  race,  and  he  has  odds  against  me  already." 

''  Never  a  bit  ;  the  wench  has  too  much  sense,  and  in  that 
belief  I  drink  her  health  a  third  time ;  and,  were  time  and 
place  fitting,  I  would  drink  it  on  bended  knees,  and  he  that 
would  not  pledge  me,  I  would  make  his  guts  garter  his 
stockings." 

"  Hark  ye,  Craigengelt ;  as  you  are  going  into  the  society 
of  women  of  rank,"  said  Bucklaw,  "I'll  thank  you  to  forget 
yo^^r  strange  blackguard  oaths  and  '  damme's.'  I'll  write  to 
them,  though,  that  you  are  a  blunt,  untaught  fellow." 

"  Ay,  ay,  "  replied  Craigengelt — "  a  plain,  blunt,  honest, 
downright  soldier." 

*'  Not  too  honest,  nor  too  much  of  the  soldier  neither  ;  but 
such  as  thou  art,  it  is  my  luck  to  need  thee,  for  I  must  have 
spurs  put  to  Lady  Ashton's  motions." 

"  I'll  dash  them  up  to  the  rowel-heads,"  said  Craigengelt  ; 
*'  she  shall  come  here  at  the  gallop,  like  a  cow  chased  by  a 
whole  nest  of  hornets,  and  her  tail  twisted  over  her  rump  like 
a  corkscrew." 

"  And  hear  ye,  Craigie,"  .said  Bucklaw  ;  "  your  boots  and 
doublets  are  good  enough  to  drink  m,  as  the  man  says  in  the 
play,  but  they  are  somewhat  too  greasy  for  tea-table  service  ; 
prithee,  get  thyself  a  little  better  rigged  out,  and  here  is  to 
pay  all  charges." 

"  Nay,  Bucklaw  ;  on  my  soul,  man,  you  use  me  ill.  How- 
ever," added  Craigengelt,  pocketing  the  money,  "  if  you  will 
have  me  so  far  indebted  to  you,  I  must  be  conforming." 

*^Well,  horse  and  away  !"  said  the  patron,  *'so  soon  as 
yon  have  got  your  riding  livery  in  trim.     You  may  ride  the 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  195 

black  crop-ear  ;  and,  hark  ye,  I'll  make  you  a  present  of  him 
to  boot." 

"1  drink  to  the  good  luck  of  my  mission,"  answered  the 
ambassador,  ''in  a  half-pint  bumper." 

"  I  thank  ye,  Craigie,  and  pledge  you  ;  I  see  nothing  against 
it  but  the  fatlier  or  the  girl  taking  a  tantrum,  and  I  am  told 
the  mother  can  wind  them  both  round  her  little  finger.  Take 
care  not  to  affront  her  with  any  of  your  Jacobite  Jargon." 

"0  ay,  true — she  is  a  Whig,  and  a  friend  of  old  Sail  of 
Marlborough  ;  thank  my  stars,  I  can  hoist  any  colors  at  a 
pinch  !  I  have  fought  as  hard  under  John  Churchill  as  ever 
I  did  under  Dundee  or  the  Duke  of  Berwick." 

"I  verily  believe  you,  Craigie,"  said  the  lord  of  the  man- 
sion ;  ''but,  Craigie,  do  you,  pray,  step  down  to  the  cellar, 
and  fetch  us  up  a  bottle  of  tlie  Burgundy,  1678  ;  it  is  in  the 
fourth  bin  from  the  right-hand  turn.  And  I  say,  Craigie, 
you  may  fetch  up  half  a  dozen  while  you  are  aoout  it.  Egad, 
we'll  make  a  night  on't !  " 


CHAPTER   XXII 

And  soon  they  spied  the  merry-men  green, 
And  eke  the  coach  and  four. 

Duke  upon  Duke. 

Oraigengelt  set  forth  on  his  mission  so  soon  as  his  equi 
page  was  complete,  prosecuted  his  journey  with  all  diligence, 
and  accomplished  his  commission  with  all  the  dexterity  for 
which  Bucklaw  had  given  him  credit.  As  he  arrived  with 
credentials  from  Mr.  Hayston  of  Bucklaw,  he  was  extremely 
welcome  to  both  ladies  ;  and  those  who  are  prejudiced  in 
favor  of  a  new  acquaintance  can,  for  a  time  at  least,  dis- 
cover excellences  in  his  very  faults  and  perfections  in  his 
deficiencies.  Although  both  ladies  were  accustomed  to  good 
society,  yet,  being  predetermined  to  find  out  an  agreeable  and 
well-behaved  gentleman  in  Mr.  Hayston^s  friend,  they  suc- 
ceeded wonderfully  in  imposing  on  themselves.  It  is  true 
that  Craigengelt  was  now  handsomely  dressed,  and  that  was 
a  point  of  no  small  consequence.  But,  independent  of  out- 
ward show,  his  blackguard  impudence  of  address  was  con- 
strued into  honorable  bluntness,  becoming  his  supposed 
military  profession  ;  his  hectoring  passed  for  courage,  and  his 
sauciness  for  wit.  Lest,  however,  any  one  should  think  this 
a  violation  of  probability,  we  must  add,  in  fairness  to  the  two 
ladies,  that  tlieir  discernment  was  greatly  blinded,  and  their 
favor  propitiated,  by  the  opportune  arrival  of  Captain  Craig- 
engelt in  the  moment  when  they  were  longing  for  a  third 
hand  to  make  a  party  at  tredrille,  in  which,  as  in  all  games, 
whether  of  chance  or  skill,  that  worthy  person  was  a  great 
proficient. 

When  he  found  himself  established  in  favor,  his  next 
point  was  how  best  to  use  it  for  the  furtherance  of  his  patron's 
views.  He  found  Lady  Ashton  prepossessed  strongly  in  favor 
of  the  motion  which  Lady  Blenkensop,  partly  from  regard  to 
her  kinsman,  partly  from  the  spirit  of  match-making,  had  not 
hesitated  to  propose  to  her ;  so  that  his  task  was  an  eas}^  one. 
Bucklaw,  reformed  from  his  prodigality,  was  just  the  sort  of 
husband  which  she  desired  to  have  for  her  Shepherdess  of 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  lOT 

Lammermoor ;  and  while  the  marriage  gave  her  an  easy 
fortune,  and  a  respectable  country  gentleman  for  her  husband. 
Lady  Asliton  was  of  opinion  that  her  destinies  would  be 
fully  and  most  favorably  accomplished.  It  so  chanced,  also, 
that  Bucklaw,  among  his  new  acquisitions,  had  gained  the 
management  of  a  little  political  interest  in  a  neighboring 
county,  where  the  Douglas  family  originally  held  large  posses- 
sions. It  was  one  of  the  bosom-hopes  of  Lady  Aghton  that 
her  eldest  son,  Sholto,  should  represent  this  county  in  the 
British  Parliament,  and  she  saw  this  alliance  with  Bucklaw  as 
a  circumstance  which  might  be  highly  favorable  to  her 
wishes. 

Craigengelt,  who,  in  his  way,  by  no  means  wanted  sagacity, 
no  sooner  discovered  in  what  quarter  the  wind  of  Lady  Ash- 
ton's  wishes  sat,  than  he  trimmed  his  course  accordingly. 
''There  was  little  to  prevent  Bucklaw  himself  from  sitting 
for  the  county ;  he  must  carry  the  heat — must  walk  the 
course.  Two  cousins-german,  six  more  distant  kinsmen,  his 
factor  and  his  chamberlain,  were  all  hollow  votes ;  and 
the  Girnington  interest  had  always  carried,  betwixt  love  and 
fear,  about  as  many  more.  But  Bucklaw  cared  no  more 
about  riding  the  first  horse,  and  that  sort  of  thing,  than  he. 
Craigengelt,  did  about  a  game  at  birkie  :  it  was  a  pity  his  in- 
terest was  not  in  good  guidance." 

All  this  Lady  Ash  ton  drank  in  with  willing  and  attentive 
ears,  resolving  internally  to  be  herself  the  person  who  should 
take  the  management  of  the  jiolitical  influence  of  her  destined 
son-in-law,  for  the  benefit  of  her  eldest-born,  Sholto,  and  all 
other  parties  concerned. 

When  he  found  her  ladyship  thus  favorably  disposed,  the 
Captain  proceeded,  to  use  his  employer's  phrase,  to  set  spurs 
to  her  resolution,  by  hinting  at  the  situation  of  matters  at 
Eavenswood  Castle,  the  long  residence  which  the  heir  of  that 
family  had  made  with  the  Lord  Keej^er,  and  the  reports  which 
— though  he  M^ould  be  d — d  ere  he  gave  credit  to  either  of 
them — had  been  idly  circulated  in  the  neighborhood.  It  was 
not  the  Captain's  cue  to  appear  himself  to  be  uneasy  on  the 
subject  of  these  rumors  ;  but  he  easily  saw  from  Lady  Ash  ton's 
flushed  cheek,  hesitating  voice,  and  flashing  eye,  that  she  had 
caught  the  alarm  which  he  intended  to  communicate.  She 
had  not  heard  from  her  husband  so  often  or  so  regularly  as 
she  thought  him  bound  in  duty  to  have  written,  and  of  this 
very  interesting  intelligence  concerning  his  visit  to  the  Tower 
of  Wolf's  Crag,  and  the  guest  whom,  with  such  cordiality,  he 
had  received  at  Eavenswood  Castle,  he  had  suffered  his  lady 


198  WAVERLET  NOVELS 

to  ivjmain  altogether  ignorant,  until  she  now  learned  it  by  ilie 
chaace  information  of  a  stranger.  Such  concealment  ap- 
proached, in  her  apprehension,  to  a  misprision,  at  least,  of 
treason,  if  not  to  actual  rebellion  against  her  matrimonial 
authority ;  and  in  her  inward  soul  did  she  vow  to  take  ven- 
geance on  the  Lord  Keeper,  as  on  a  subject  detected  in 
meditating  revolt.  Her  indignation  burned  the  more  fiercely 
as  she  found  herself  obliged  to  suppress  it  in  presence  of 
Lady  Blenkensop,  the  kinswoman,  and  of  Craigengelt,  the  con- 
fidential friend,  of  Bucklaw,  of  whose  alliance  she  now 
became  trebly  desirous,  since  it  occurred  to  her  alarmed  im- 
agina\:ion  that  her  husband  might,  in  his  policy  or  timidity, 
prefer  that  of  Ravenswood. 

The  Captain  was  engineer  enough  to  discover  that  the 
train  was  fired ;  and  therefore  heard,  in  the  course  of  the 
same  day,  without  the  least  surprise,  that  Lady  Ashton  had 
resolved  to  abridge  her  visit  to  Lady  Blenkensop,  and  set 
fortli  with  the  peep  of  morning  on  her  return  to  Scotland, 
using  all  the  dispatch  which  the  state  of  the  roads  and  the 
mode  of  travelling  would  possibly  permit. 

Unhappy  Lord  Keeper  !  little  was  he  aware  what  a  storm 
was  travelling  towards  him  in  all  the  speed  with  which  an 
old-fashioned  coach  and  six  could  possibly  achieve  its  journey. 
He,  like  Don  Gayferos,  "forgot  his  lady  fair  and  true,"  and 
was  only  anxious  about  the  expected  visit  of  the  Marquis  ol 
A .  Soothfast  tidings  had  assured  him  that  this  noble- 
man was  at  length,  and  without  fail,  to  honor  his  castle  at 
one  in  the  afternoon,  being  a  late  dinner-hour  ;  and  much 
was  the  bustle  in  consequence  of  the  annunciation.  Tht 
Lord  Keeper  traversed  the  chambers,  held  consultation  with 
the  butler  in  the  cellars,  and  even  ventured,  at  the  risk  of  a 
demele  with  a  cook  of  a  spirit  lofty  enough  to  scorn  the  ad- 
monitions of  Lady  Ashton  herself,  to  peep  into  the  kitchen. 
Satisfied,  at  length,  that  everything  was  in  as  active  a  train 
of  preparation  as  was  possible,  he  summoned  Ravenswood  and 
his  daughter  to  walk  upon  the  terrace,  for  the  purpose  of 
watching,  from  that  commanding  position,  the  earliest  symp- 
toms of  his  lordship's  approach.  For  this  purpose,  with  slow 
and  idle  step,  he  paraded  the  terrace,  which,  flanked  with  a 
heavy  stone  battlement,  stretched  in  front  of  the  castle  upon 
a  level  with  the  first  story ;  while  visitors  found  access  to  the 
court  by  a  projecting  gateway,  the  bartizan  or  flat-leaded  roof 
of  which  was  accessible  from  the  terrace  by  an  easy  flight  of 
low  and  broad  steps.  The  whole  bore  a  resemblance  partly 
to  a  castle,  partly  to  a  nobleman's  seat ;  and  though  caion- 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  199 

lated,  in  some  respects,  for  defence,  evinced  that  it  had  been 
constructed  under  a  sense  of  the  power  and  security  of  the 
ancient  Lords  of  Eavenswood. 

This  pleasant  walk  commanded  a  beautiful  and  extensive 
view.  But  what  was  most  to  our  present  purpose,  there  were 
seen  from  the  terrace  two  roads,  one  leading  from  the  east, 
and  one  from  the  westward,  which,  crossing  a  ridge  opposed 
to  the  eminence  on  which  the  castle  stood,  at  different  angles, 
gradually  approached  each  other,  until  they  joined  not  far 
from  the  gate  of  the  avenue.  It  was  to  the  westward  approach 
that  the  Lord  Keeper,  from  a  sort  of  fidgeting  anxiety,  his 
daughter,  from  complaisance  to  him,  and  Eavenswood,  though 
feeling  some  symptoms  of  internal  impatience,  out  of  com- 
plaisance to  his  daughter,  directed  their  eyes  to  see  the  pre- 
cursors of  the  Marquis's  approach. 

They  were  not  long  of  presenting  themselves.  Two  run- 
ning footmen,  dressed  in  white,  with  black  jockey-caps,  and 
long  staffs  in  their  hands,  headed  the  train ;  and  such  was 
their  agility,  that  they  found  no  difficulty  in  keeping 
the  necessary  advance,  which  the  etiquette  of  their  station 
required,  before  the  carriage  and  horsemen.  Onward  thej 
came  at  a  long  swinging  trot,  arguing  unwearied  speed  in 
their  long-breathed  calling.  Such  running  footmen  are  often 
alluded  to  in  old  plays  (I  would  particularly  instance  Middle- 
ton's  Mad  World,  my  3£asfers),*  and  perhaps  may  be  still 
remembered  by  some  old  persons  in  Scotland,  as  part  of  the 
retinue  of  the  ancient  nobility  when  travelling  in  full  cere- 
mony. Behind  these  glancing  meteors,  who  footed  it  as  if 
the  Avenger  of  Blood  had  been  behind  them,  came  a  cloud  of 
dust,  raised  by  riders  who  preceded,  attended,  or  followed 
the  state-carriage  of  the  Marquis. 

The  privilege  of  nobility,  in  those  days,  had  something  in 
it  impressive  on  the  imagination.  The  dresses  and  liveries 
and  number  of  their  attendants,  their  style  of  travelling,  the 
imposing,  and  almost  warlike,  air  of  the  armed  men  who  sur- 
rounded them,  placed  them  far  above  the  laird,  who  travelled 
with  his  brace  of  footmen  ;  and  as  to  rivalry  from  the  mer- 
cantile part  of  the  community,  these  would  as  soon  have 
thought  of  imitating  the  state  equipage  of  the  Sovereign.     At 

f)resent  it  is  different ;  and  I  myself,  Peter  Pattieson,  in  a 
ate  journey  to  Edinburgh,  had  the  honor,  in  the  mail-coach 
phrase,  to  '-^  change  a  leg  "  with  a  peer  of  the  realm.  It  was 
not  so  in  the  days  of  which  I  write  ;  and  the  Marquis's  ap- 
proach, 60  long  expected  in  vain,  now  took  place  in  the  full 

*  See  Note  9. 


200  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

pomp  of  ancient  aristocracy.  Sir  William  Ashton  was  so 
much  interested  in  what  he  beheld,  and  in  considering  the 
ceremonial  of  reception,  in  case  any  circumstance  had  been 
omitted,  that  he  scarce  heard  his  son  Henry  exclaim,  "  There 
is  another  coach  and  six  coming  down  the  east  road,  papa  ; 

can  they  both  belong  to  the  Marquis  of  A ?  " 

At  length,  when  the  youngster  had  fairly  compelled  hi? 
attention  by  pulling  his  sleeve, 

He  turned  his  eyes,  and,  as  he  turn'd,  surveyed 
An  awful  vision. 

Sure  enough,  another  coach  and  six,  with  four  servants  or 
outriders  in  attendance,  was  descending  the  hill  from  the 
eastward,  at  such  a  pace  as  made  it  doubtful  Avhich  of  the  car- 
riages thus  approaching  from  different  quarters  would  first 
reach  the  gate  at  the  extremity  of  the  avenue.  The  one 
coach  was  green,  the  other  blue  ;  and  not  the  green  and  blue 
chariots  in  the  circus  of  Rome  or  Constantinople  excited  more 
turmoil  among  the  citizens  than  the  double  apparition  occa- 
sioned in  the  mind  of  the  Lord  Keeper. 

We  all  remember  the  terrible  exclamation  of  the  dying 
profligate,  when  a  friend,  to  destroy  what  he  supposed  the 
hypochondriac  idea  of  a  spectre  appearing  in  a  certain  shape 
at  a  given  hour,  placed  before  him  a  person  dressed  up  in  the 
manner  he  described.  "  Mon  Dieu  !  "  said  the  expiring  sin- 
ner, who,  it  seems,  saw  both  tlie  real  and  polygraphic  appari- 
tion, " il  y  671  a  deux!"  The  surprise  of  the  Lord  Keeper 
was  scarcely  less  unpleasing  at  the  duplication  of  the  expected 
arrival ;  his  mind  misgave  him  strangely.  There  was  no 
neighbor  who  would  have  approached  so  unceremoniously,  at 
a  time  when  ceremony  was  held  in  such  respect.  It  must  be 
Lady  Ashton,  said  his  conscience,  and  followed  up  the  hint 
with  an  anxious  anticipation  of  the  purpose  of  her  sudden  and 
unannounced  return.  He  felt  that  he  was  caught  "in  the 
manner.^'  That  the  company  in  which  she  had  so  unluckily 
surprised  him  was  likely  to  be  highly  distasteful  to  her,  there 
was  no  question ;  and  the  only  hope  which  remained  for  him 
was  her  high  sense  of  dignified  propriety,  which,  he  trusted, 
might  prevent  a  public  explosion.  But  so  active  were  his 
doubts  and  fears  as  altogether  to  derange  his  purposed  cere- 
monial for  the  reception  of  the  Marquis. 

These  feelings  of  apprehension  were  not  confined  to  Sir 
William  Ashton,  "  It  is  my  mother — it  is  my  mother  ! " 
said  Lucy,  turning  as  pale  as  ashes,  and  clasping  her  hands 
together  as  she  looked  at  Eavenswood. 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  301 

"And  if  it  be  Lady  Ash  ton,"  said  her  lover  to  her  in  a 
low  tone,  "what  can  be  the  occasion  of  such  alarm  ?  Surely 
the  return  of  a  lady  to  the  family  from  which  she  has  been 
so  long  absent  should  excite  other  sensations  than  those  of 
fear  and  dismay." 

"  You  do  not  know  my  mother,"  said  Miss  Asliton,  in  a 
tone  almost  breathless  with  terror ;  "  what  will  she  say  when 
she  sees  you  in  this  place  ! " 

"My  stay  has  been  too  long,"  said  Eavenswood,  somewhat 
haughtily,  "  if  her  displeasure  at  my  presence  is  likely  to  be 
so  formidable.  My  dear  Lucy,"  he  resumed,  in  a  tone  of 
soothing  encouragement,  "you  are  too  childishly  afraid  of 
Lady  Ash  ton  ;  she  is  a  woman  of  family — a  lady  of  fashion — 
a  person  who  must  know  the  world,  and  what  is  due  to  her 
husband  and  her  husband's  guests." 

Lucy  shook  her  head ;  and,  as  if  her  mother,  still  at  the 
distance  of  half  a  mile,  could  have  seen  and  scrutinized  her  de- 
portment, she  withdrew  herself  from  beside  Eavenswood,  and, 
taking  her  brother  Henry's  arm,  led  him  to  a  different  part  of 
the  terrace.  The  Keeper  also  shuffled  down  towards  the  por- 
tal of  the  great  gate,  without  inviting  Eavenswood  to  accom- 
pany him ;  and  thus  he  remained  standing  alone  on  the 
terrace,  deserted  and  shunned,  as  it  were,  by  the  inhabitants  of 
the  mansion. 

This  suited  not  the  mood  of  oiie  who  was  proud  in  propor- 
tion to  his  poverty,  and  who  thought  that,  in  sacrificing  his 
deep-rooted  resentments  so  far  as  to  become  Sir  William  Ash- 
ton's  guest,  he  conferred  a  favor,  and  received  none.  "  T  can 
forgive  Lucy,"  he  said  to  himself ;  "she  is  young,  timid,  and 
conscious  of  an  important  engagement  assumed  without  her 
mother's  sanction  ;  yet  she  should  remember  with  whom  it 
has  been  assumed,  and  leave  me  no  reason  to  suspect  that  she 
is  ashamed  of  her  choice.  For  tlie  Keeper,  sense,  spirit,  and 
expression  seem  to  have  left  his  face  and  manner  since  he  had 
the  first  glimpse  of  Lady  Ashton's  carriage.  I  must  watch 
how  this  is  to  end  ;  and,  if  they  give  me  reason  to  think  my- 
self an  unwelcome  guest,  my  visit  is  soon  abridged." 

With  these  suspicions  floating  on  his  mind,  he  left  the 
terrace,  and,  walking  towards  the  stables  of  the  castle,  gave 
directions  that  his  horse  should  be  kept  in  readiness,  in  case 
he  should  have  occasion  to  ride  abroad. 

In  the  mean  while,  the  drivers  of  the  tAVO  carriages,  the 
approach  of  which  had  occasioned  so  much  dismay  at  the  castle, 
had  become  aware  of  each  other's  presence,  as  they  approached 
upon  different  lines  to  the  head  of  the  avenue,  as  a  common 


203  WAVER  LEY  NOVELS 

centre.  Lady  Ashton's  driver  and  postilions  instantly  receive^ 
orders  to  get  foremost,  if  possible,  her  ladyshij)  being  desirous 
of  dispatching  her  first  interview  with  her  husband  before  the 
arrival  of  these  guests,  whoever  tliey  might  happen  to  be.  On 
the  other  hand,  the  coachman  of  the  Marquis,  conscious  of 
his  own  dignity  and  that  of  his  master,  and  observing  the 
rival  charioteer  was  mending  his  pace,  resolved,  like  a  true 
brother  of  the  whip,  whether  ancient  or  modern,  to  vindicate 
his  right  of  precedence.  So  that,  to  increase  the  confusion  of 
the  Lord  Keeper's  understanding,  he  saw  the  short  time  which 
remained  for  consideration  abridged  by  the  haste  of  the  con- 
tending coachmen,  who,  fixing  their  eyes  sternly  on  each 
other,  and  applying  the  lash  smartly  to  their  horses,  began  to 
thunder  down  the  descent  with  emulous  rapidity,  while  the 
horsemen  who  attended  them  were  forced  to  put  on  to  a  hand- 
gallop. 

Sir  William's  only  chance  now  remaining  was  the  possi- 
bility of  an  overturn,  and  that  his  lady  or  visitor  might  break 
their  necks.  I  am  not  aware  that  he  formed  any  distinct  wish 
on  the  subject,  but  I  have  no  reason  to  think  that  his  grief  in 
either  case  would  have  been  altogether  inconsolable.  This 
chance,  however,  also  disappeared  ;  for  Lady  Ashton,  though 
insensible  to  fear,  began  to  see  the  ridicule  of  running  a  race 
with  a  visitor  of  distinction,  the  goal  being  the  portal  of  her 
own  castle,  and  commanded  her  coachman,  as  they  approached 
the  avenue,  to  slacken  his  pace,  and  allow  precedence  to  the 
stranger's  equipage  ;  a  command  which  he  gladly  obeyed,  as 
coming  in  time  to  save  his  honor,  the  horses  of  the  Marquis's 
carriage  being  better,  or,  at  least,  fresher  than  his  own.  He 
restrained  his  pace,  therefore,  and  suffered  the  green  coach  to 
enter  the  avenue,  with  all  its  retinue,  which  pass  it  occupied 
with  the  speed  of  a  whirlwind.  The  Marquis's  laced  chari- 
oteer no  sooner  found  the  pass  d'avance  was  granted  to  him 
than  he  resumed  a  more  deliberate  pace,  at  which  he  advanced 
under  the  embowering  shade  of  the  lofty  elms,  surrounded  by 
all  the  attendants ;  while  the  carriage  of  Lady  Ashton  fol- 
lowed, still  more  slowly,  at  some  distance. 

In  the  front  of  the  castle,  and  beneath  the  portal  which  ad- 
mitted guests  into  the  inner  court,  stood  Sir  William  Ashton, 
much  perplexed  in  mind,  his  younger  son  and  daughter  be- 
side him,  and  in  their  rear  a  train  of  attendants  of  various 
ranks,  in  and  out  of  livery.  The  nobility  and  gentry  of  Scot- 
land, at  this  period,  were  remarkable  even  to  extravagance 
for  the  number  of  their  servants,  whose  services  were  easily 
purchased  in  a  country  where  men  were  numerous  beyoud 
proportion  to  the  means  of  employing  them. 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  208 

The  manners  of  a  man  trained  like  Sir  William  Av,iton 
are  too  much  at  his  command  to  remain  long  disconcerted 
with  the  most  adverse  concurrence  of  circumstances.  He  re- 
ceived the  Marquis,  as  he  alighted  from  his  equipage,  with 
the  usual  compliments  of  welcome  ;  and,  as  he  ushered  him 
into  the  great  hall,  expressed  his  hope  that  his  journey  had 
been  pleasant.  The  Marquis  was  a  tall,  well-made  man,  with 
a  thoughtful  and  intelligent  countenance,  and  an  eye  in  which 
the  fire  of  ambition  had  for  some  years  replaced  the  vivacity 
jf  youth ;  a  bold,  proud,  expression  of  countenance,  yet 
chastened  by  habitual  caution,  and  the  desire  which,  as  the 
head  of  a  party,  he  necessarily  entertained  of  acquiring  popu- 
larity. He  answered  with  courtesy  the  courteous  inquiries  of 
the  Lord  Keeper,  and  was  formally  presented  to  Miss  Ashton, 
In  the  course  of  which  ceremony  the  Lord  Keeper  gave  the 
first  symptom  of  what  was  chiefly  occupying  his  mind,  by 
Introducing  his  daughter  as  "  his  wife.  Lady  Ashton." 

Lucy  blushed  ;  the  Marquis  looked  surprised  at  the  ex- 
tremely juvenile  appearance  of  his  hostess,  and  the  Lord 
Keeper  with  difficulty  rallied  himself  so  far  as  to  explain. 
"  I  should  have  said  my  daughter,  my  lord  ;  but  the  truth  is, 
that  I  saw  Lady  Ashton's  carriage  enter  the  avenue  shortly 
after  your  lordship's,  and " 

"  Make  no  apology,  my  lord,"  replied  his  noble  guest  ; 
*'  let  me  entreat  you  will  wait  on  your  lady,  and  leave  me  to 
cultivate  Miss  Ashton's  acquaintance.  I  am  shocked  my  peo- 
ple should  have  taken  precedence  of  our  hostess  at  her  own 
gate  ;  but  your  lordship  is  aware  that  I  supposed  Lady  Ash- 
ton was  still  in  the  south.  Permit  me  to  beseech  you  will 
waive  ceremony,  and  hasten  to  welcome  her." 

This  was  precisely  what  the  Lord  Keeper  longed  to  do ; 
and  he  instantly  profited  by  his  lordship's  obliging  permission. 
To  see  Lady  Ashton,  and  encounter  the  first  burst  of  her  dis- 
pleasure in  private,  might  prepare  her,  in  some  degree,  to  re- 
ceive her  unwelcome  guests  with  due  decorum.  As  her  car- 
riage, therefore,  stopped,  the  arm  of  the  attentive  husband 
vas  ready  to  assist  Lady  Ashton  in  dismounting.  Looking 
as  if  she  saw  him  not,  she  put  his  arm  aside,  and  requested 
that  of  Captain  Craigengelt,  who  stood  by  the  coach  ^^ith  his 
laced  hat  under  his  arm,  having  acted  as  cavaUcre  servente, 
or  squire  in  attendance,  during  the  journey.  Taking  hold  of 
this  respectable  person's  arm  as  if  to  support  her.  Lady  Ash- 
ton traversed  the  court,  uttering  a  word  or  two  by  way  of  di- 
rection to  the  servants,  but  not  one  to  Sir  William,  who  in 
fain  endeavored  to  attract  her  attention,  as  he   rather  fol- 


304  WA  VERLEY  NOVELS 

lowed  than  accompanied  her  into  the  hall,  in  which  they 
found  the  Marquis  in  close  conversation  with  the  Master  of 
Ravenswood.  Lucy  had  taken  the  first  opportunity  of  es- 
caping.    There  was   embarrassment   on   every   countenance 

except  that  of  the  Marquis  of  A ;  for  even  Craigengelt's 

impudence  was  hardly  able  to  veil  his  fear  of  Ravenswood, 
and  the  rest  felt  the  awkwardness  of  the  position  in  which 
they  were  thus  unexpectedly  placed. 

After  waiting  a  moment  to  be  presented  by  Sir  William 
Ash  ton,  the  Marquis  resolved  to  introduce  himself.  "  The 
Lord  Keeper,'"  he  said,  bowing  to  Lady  Ashton,  "  has  just 
introduced  to  me  his  daughter  as  his  wife  ;  he  might  very 
easily  present  Lady  Ashton  as  his  daughter,  so  little  does  she 
differ  from  what  I  remember  her  some  years  since.  Will  she 
permit  an  old  acquaintance  the  privilege  of  a  guest  ?  " 

He  saluted  the  lady  with  too  good  a  grace  to  apprehend  a 
repulse,  and  then  proceeded — "  This,  Lady  Ashton,  is  a  peace- 
making visit,  and  therefore  I  presume  to  introduce  my  cousin, 
the  young  Master  of  Ravenswood,  to  your  favorable  notice.'' 

Lady  Ashton  could  not  choose  but  courtesy  ;  but  there 
was  in  her  obeisance  an  air  of  haughtiness  approaching  to 
contemptuous  repulse.  Ravenswood  could  not  choose  but 
bow  ;  but  his  manner  returned  the  scorn  with  which  he  had 
been  greeted. 

"Allow  me,"  she  said,  "'to  present  to  your  lordship  my 
friend."  Craigengelt,  with  the  forward  impudence  which 
men  of  his  cast  mistake  for  ease,  made  a  sliding  bow  to  the 
Marquis,  which  he  graced  by  a  flourish  of  his  gold-laced  hat. 
The  lady  turned  to  her  husband.  "  You  and  I,  Sir  William," 
she  said,  and  these  were  the  first  words  she  had  addressed  to 
him,  "have  acquired  new  acquaintances  since  we  parted  ;  let 
me  introduce  the  acquisition  I  have  made  to  mine — Captain 
Craigengelt." 

Another  bow,  and  another  flourish  of  the  gold-laced  hat, 
which  was  retv.rned  by  the  Lord  Keeper  without  intimation 
of  former  recognition,  and  with  that  sort  of  anxious  readi- 
ness which  intimated  his  wish  that  peace  and  amnesty  should 
take  place  betwixt  the  contending  parties,  including  the  aux- 
iliaries on  both  sides.  "  Let  me  introduce  you  to  the  Master 
of  Ravenswood,"  said  he  to  Captain  Craigengelt,  following 
np  the  same  amicable  system. 

But  the  Master  drew  up  his  tall  form  to  the  full  extent 
of  his  height,  and  without  so  much  as  looking  towards  the 
person  thus  introduced  to  him,  he  said,  in  a  marked  tone, 
"  Captain  Craigengelt  and  I  are  already  perfectly  well  ac- 
quainted with  each  other/*  . 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  aOft 

"  Perfectly — perfectly,"  replied  the  Captain,  in  a  mum- 
bling tone,  like  that  of  a  double  echo,  and  with  a  flourish  of 
his  hat,  the  circumference  of  which  was  greatly  abridged, 
compared  with  those  which  had  so  cordially  graced  his  intro- 
duction to  the  Marquis  and  the  Lord  Keeper. 

Lockhard,  followed  by  three  menials,  now  entered  with 
wine  and  refreshments,  which  it  was  the  fashion  to  offer  as  a 
whet  before  dinner ;  and  when  tliey  were  placed  before  the 
guests.  Lady  Ashton  made  an  apology  for  withdrawing  her 
husband  from  them  for  some  minutes  upon  business  of  special 
import.  The  Marquis,  of  course,  requested  her  ladyship 
would  lay  herself  under  no  restraint ;  and  Craigengelt,  bolt- 
ing with  speed  a  second  glass  of  racy  canary,  hastened  to 
leave  the  room,  feeling  no  great  pleasure  in  the  prospect  of 

being  left  alone  with  the   Marquis  of  A and  the  Master 

of  Ravenswood  ;  the  presence  of  the  former  holding  him  in 
awe,  and  that  of  the  latter  in  bodily  terror. 

Some  arrangements  about  his  horse  and  baggage  formed 
the  pretext  for  his  sudden  retreat,  in  which  he  persevered, 
although  Lady  Ashton  gave  Lockhard  orders  to  be  careful 
most  particidarly  to  accommodate  Captain  Craigengelt  with 
all  the  attendance  which  he  could  possibly  require.  The 
Marquis  and  the  Master  of  Ravenswood  were  thus  left  to 
communicate  to  e:ich  other  their  remarks  upon  the  reception 
which  they  had  met  with,  while  Lady  Ashton  led  the  way, 
and  her  lord  followed  somewhat  like  a  condemned  criminal, 
to  her  ladyship's  dressing-room. 

So  soon  as  the  spouses  had  both  entered,  her  ladyship 
gave  way  to  that  fierce  audacity  of  temper  which  she  had 
with  difficulty  suppressed,  out  of  respect  to  appearances. 
She  shut  the  door  behind  the  alarmed  Lord  Keeper,  took  the 
key  out  of  the  spring-lock,  and  with  a  countenance  which 
years  had  not  Ijereft  of  its  haughty  charms,  and  eyes  which 
spoke  at  once  resolution  and  resentment,  she  addressed  her 
astounded  husband  in  these  words  :  "  My  lord,  I  am  not  greatly 
surprised  at  the  connections  you  have  been  pleased  to  form 
during  my  absence,  they  are  entirely  in  conformity  with 
your  birth  and  breeding ;  and  if  I  did  expect  anything  else, 
I  heartily  own  my  error,  and  that  I  merit,  by  having  done  so, 
the  disappointment  you  had  prepared  for  me." 

''  My  dear  Lady  Ashton — my  dear  Eleanor  [Margaret]," 
said  the  Lord  Keeper,  "listen  to  reason  for  a  moment,  and 
I  will  convince  you  I  have  acted  with  ;ill  the  regard  due  to 
the  dignity,  as  well  as  the  interest,  of  my  family." 

"To  the  interest  of  your  family  I  conceive  you  perfectly 


m  WAVE  RLE  Y  NOVELS 

capable  of  attending,"  returned  the  indignant  lady,  ^'  and 
even  to  the  dignity  of  your  own  family  also,  as  far  as  it  re- 
quires any  looking  after.  But  as  mine  happens  to  be  inex- 
tricably involved  with  it,  you  will  excuse  me  if  I  choose  to 
give  my  own  attention  so  far  as  that  is  concerned," 

"  What  would  you  have,  Lady  Ashton  ? "  said  the  hus- 
band. "  What  is  it  that  displeases  you  ?  Why  is  it  that,  on 
your  return  after  so  long  an  absence,  I  am  arraigned  in  this 
manner  ?  " 

"  Ask  your  own  conscience.  Sir  William,  what  has 
prompted  you  to  become  a  renegade  to  your  political  party  and 
opinions,  and  led  you,  for  what  I  know,  to  be  on  the  point 
of  marrying  your  only  daughter  to  a  beggarly  Jacobite  bank- 
rupt, the  inveterate  enemy  of  your  family  to  the  boot." 

"  Why,  what,  in  the  name-  of  common  sense  and  common 
civility,  would  you  have  me  do,  madam  ? "  answered  her  hus- 
band. "  Is  it  possible  for  me,  with  ordinary  decency,  to  turn 
a  young  gentleman  out  of  my  house,  who  saved  my  daughter's 
life  and  my  own,  but  the  other  morning,  as  it  Avere  ?  " 

"  Saved  your  life  !  I  have  heard  of  that  story,"  said  the 
lady.  "  The  Lord  Keejier  was  scared  by  a  dun  cow,  and  he 
takes  the  young  fellow  who  killed  her  for  Guy  of  W^arwick  : 
any  butcher  from  Haddington  may  soon  have  an  equal  claim 
on  your  hospitality." 

"Lady  Ashton,"  stammered  the  Keeper,  ''this  is  intoler- 
able ;  and  when  I  am  desirous,  too,  to  make  you  easy  by  any 
sacrifice,  if  you  would  but  tell  me  what  you  would  be  at." 

"  Go  down  to  your  guests,"  said  the  imperious  dame,  "  and 
make  your  apology  to  Ravenswood,  that  the  arrival  of  Captain 
Craigengelt  and  some  other  friends  renders  it  impossible  for 
you  to  offer  him  lodgings  at  the  castle.  I  expect  young  Mr. 
Hayston  of  Bucklaw." 

'•'  Good  heavens,  madam  ! "  ejaculated  her  husband. 
"Ravenswood  to  give  place  to  Craigengelt,  a  common  gambler 
and  an  informer  !  It  was  all  I  could  do  to  forbear  desiring 
the  fellow  to  get  out  of  my  house,  and  I  was  much  surprised 
to  see  him  in  your  ladyship's  train." 

"Since  you  saw  him  there,  you  might  be  well  assured," 
answered  this  meek  helpmate,  "that  he  was  proper  society. 
As  to  this  Ravenswood,  he  only  meets  with  the  treatment 
which,  to  my  certain  knowledge,  he  gave  to  a  much-valued 
friend  of  mine,  who  had  the  misfortune  to  be  his  guest  some 
time  since.  But  take  your  resolution  ;  for,  if  Ravenswood 
does  not  quit  the  house,  I  will." 

Sir  William  Ashton  paced  up  and  down  the  apartment  ir 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  207 

the  most  distressing  agitation ;  fear,  and  shame,  and  anger 
contending  against  the  habitual  deference  he  was  in  the  use 
of  rendering  to  his  kdy.  At  length  it  ended,  as  is  usual  with 
timid  minds  placed  in  such  circumstances,  in  his  adopting  a 
mezzo  t ermine — a  middle  measure. 

"I  tell  you  frankly,  madam,  I  neither  can  nor  will  be 
guilty  of  the  incivility  you  proj^ose  to  the  Master  of  Eavens- 
wood  ;  he  has  not  deserved  it  at  my  hand.  If  you  will  be  so 
unreasonable  as  to  insult  a  man  of  quality  under  your  own 
roof,  I  cannot  prevent  you ;  but  I  will  not  at  least  be  the 
agent  in  such  a  j^reposterous  proceeding." 

"  You  will  not  ?"  asked  the  lady. 

"1^0,  by  heavens,  madam  !"  her  husband  replied;  '''ask 
me  anything  congruent  with  common  decency,  as  to  drop  hi? 
acquaintance  by  degrees,  or  the  like  ;  but  to  bid  him  leave  my 
house  is  what  I  will  not  and  cannot  consent  to." 

"  Then  the  task  of  supporting  the  honor  of  the  family  Avill 
fall  on  me,  as  it  has  often  done  before,"  said  the  lady. 

She  sat  down,  and  hastily  wrote  a  few  lines.  The  Lord 
Keeper  made  another  effort  to  prevent  her  taking  a  step  so 
decisive,  just  as  she  opened  the  door  to  call  her  female  at- 
tendant from  the  anteroom.  "'Think  what  you  are  doing, 
Lady  Ashton  :  you  are  making  a  mortal  enemy  of  a  young 
man  who  is  like  to  have  the  means  of  harming  us " 

''Did  you  ever  know  a  Douglas  who  feared  an  enemy  ^" 
answered  the  lady,  contemptuously. 

"  Ay,  but  he  is  as  proud  and  vindictive  as  a  hundred 
Douglasses,  and  a  hundred  devils  to  boot.  Think  of  it  for 
a  night  only." 

"  Not  for  another  moment,"  answered  the  lady. .  "  Here, 
Mrs.  Patullo,  give  this  billet  to  young  Eavenswood." 

"  To  the  Master,  madam  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Patullo. 

"Ay,  to  the  Master,  if  you  call  him  so." 

"  I  wash  my  hands  of  it  entirely,"  said  the  Keeper  ;  "  and 
I  shall  go  down  into  the  garden  and  see  that  Jardine  gathers 
the  winter  fruit  for  the  dessert." 

"Do  so,"  said  the  lady,  looking  after  him  with  glances  of 
infinite  contempt ;  "  and  thank  God  that  you  leave  one  be- 
hind you  as  fit  to  protect  the  honor  of  the  family  as  you  are 
to  look  after  pippins  and  pears." 

The  Lord  Keeper  remained  long  enough  in  the  garden  to 
give  her  ladyship's  mind  time  to  explode,  and  to  let,  as  he 
thought,  at  least  the  first  violence  of  Eavenswood's  displeasure 
blow  over.  When  he  entered  the  hall,  he  found  the  ]Marquis 
of  A giving  orders  to  some  of  his  attendants.     He  seemed 


208  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

in   high  displeasure,  and  interrupted  an  apology  which  Sk 
William  had  commenced  for  having  left  liis  lordship  alone. 

"  I  presume,  Sir  William,  you  are  no  stranger  to  this 
singular  billet  with  which  mii  kinsman  of  Eavenswood  [an 
emphasis  on  the  word  "•  my  "\  has  been  favored  by  your  lady  ; 
and,  of  course,  that  you  are  prepared  to  receive  my  adieus. 
My  kinsman  is  already  gone,  having  thought  it  unnecessary 
to  offer  any  on  his  part,  since  all  former  civilities  had  been 
cancelled  by  this  singular  insult." 

"I  protest,  my  lord,"  said  Sir  William,  holding  the  billet 
in  his  hand,  "'I  am  not  privy  to  the  contents  of  this  letter. 
I  know  Lady  Ashton  is  a  warm-tempered  and  prejudiced 
woman,  and  I  am  sincerely  sorry  for  any  offence  that  has  been 
given  or  taken  ;  but  I  hope  your  lordship  will  consider  that 
a  lady " 

'"Should  bear  herself  towards  persons  of  a  certain  rank 
with  the  breeding  of  one,"  said  the  Marquis,  comjDleting  the 
half -uttered  sentence. 

''True,  my  lord,"  said  the  unfortunate  Keeper;  "but 
Lady  Ashton  is  still  a  woman " 

"And  as  such,  methinks,"  said  the  Marauis.  again  inter- 
rupting him,  "should  be  taught  the  duties  which  correspond 
to  her  station.  But  here  she  comes,  and  I  will  learn  from 
her  own  mouth  the  reason  of  this  extraordinary  and  unex- 
pected affront  offered  to  my  near  relation,  while  both  lie  and 
I  were  her  ladyship's  guests." 

Lady  Ashton  accordingly  entered  the  apartment  at  this 
moment.  Her  dispute  with  Sir  William,  and  a  subsequent 
interview  with  her  daughter,  had  not  prevented  her  from  at- 
tending to  the  duties  of  her  toilette.  She  appeared  in  full 
dress  ;  and,  from  the  character  of  her  countenance  and  man- 
ner, well  became  the  splendor  with  which  ladies  of  quality 
then  appeared  on  sucli  occasions. 

The  Marquis  of  A bowed  haughtily,  and  she  returned 

the  salute  with  equal  pride  and  distance  of  demeanor.  He 
then  took  from  the  passive  hand  of  Sir  William  Asliton  the 
billet  he  had  given  him  the  moment  before  he  approached 
the  lady,  and  was  about  to  speak,  when  she  interrupted  him. 
*'I  perceive,  my  lord,  you  are  about  to  enter  upon  an  un- 
pleasant subject.  I  am  sorry  any  such  should  have  occurred 
at  this  time,  to  interrupt  in  the  slightest  degree  the  respect- 
ful reception  due  to  your  lordship  ;  but  so  it  is.  Mr.  Edgar 
Eavenswood,  for  whom  I  have  addressed  the  billet  in  your 
lordship's  hand,  has  abused  the  hospitality  of  this  family,  and 
Sir  William  Ashton's  softness  of  temper^  in  order  to  seduce  a 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  209 

young  person  into  engagements  without  her  parents'  consent, 
and  of  which  they  never  can  approve." 

Both  gentlemen  answered  at  once.  "My  kinsman  is  inca- 
pable  "  said  the  Lord  Marquis. 

"I  am  confident  that  my  daughter  Lucy  is  still  more  in- 
capable  "  said  the  Lord  Keeper. 

Lady  Ashton  at  once  interrupted  and  replied  to  them  both. 
"My  Lord  Marquis,  your  kinsman,  if  Mr.  Ravenswood  has 
the  honor  to  be  so,  has  made  the  attempt  privately  to  secure 
the  affections  of  this  young  and  inexperienced  girl.  8ir  Will- 
iam Ashton,  your  daughter  has  been  simple  enough  to  give 
more  encouragement  than  she  ought  to  have  done  to  so  very 
improper  a  suitor." 

"And  I  think,  madam,"  said  the  Lord  Keeper,  losing  his 
accustomed  temper  and  patience,  "that  if  3'Ou  had  nothing 
better  to  tell  us,  you  had  better  have  kept  this  family  secret 
to  yourself  also." 

"  You  will  pardon  me,  Sir  William,"  said  the  lady,  calmly  ; 
"^tlie  noble  Marquis  has  a  right  to  know  the  cause  of  the  treat- 
ment I  have  found  it  necessary  to  use  to  a  gentleman  whom 
he  calls  his  blood-relation." 

"It  is  a  cause,"  muttered  the  Lord  Keeper,  "which  has 
emerged  since  the  effect  has  taken  place  ;  for,  if  it  exists  at 
all,  I  am  sure  she  knew  nothing  of  it  when  her  letter  to  Ra- 
venswood was  written." 

"It  is  the  first  time  that  I  have  heard  of  this,"  said  the 
Marquis;  "but,  since  your  ladyship  has  tabled  a  subject  so 
delicate,  permit  me  to  say,  that  my  kinsman's  birth  and  con- 
nections entitled  him  to  a  patient  hearing,  and  at  least  a  civil 
refusal,  even  in  case  of  his  being  so  ambitious  as  to  raise  his 
eyes  to  the  daughter  of  Sir  William  Ashton." 

"  You  will  recollect,  my  lord,  of  what  blood  Miss  Lucy 
Ashton  is  come  by  the  mother's  side,"  said  the  la^j. 

"I  do  remember  your  descent — from  a  younger  branch  of 
the  house  of  Angus,"  said  the  Marquis  ;  "  and  your  ladyship 
— forgive  me,  lady — ought  not  to  forget  that  the  Ravenswoods 
have  thrice  intermarried  with  the  main  stem.  Come,  madam, 
I  know  how  matters  stand — old  and  long-fostered  prejudices 
are  difficult  to  get  over,  I  make  every  allowance  for  them  ;  I 
ought  not,  and  I  would  not,  otherwise  have  suffered  my  kins- 
man to  depart  alone,  expelled,  in  a  manner,  from  this  house, 
but  I  had  hopes  of  being  a  mediator.  I  am  still  unwilling  to 
leave  you  in  anger,  and  shall  not  set  forward  till  after  noon, 
as  I  rejoin  the  Master  of  Ravenswood  upon  the  road  a  few 
miles  from  hence.     Let  us  ^-alk  over  this  matter  more  coolly." 


210  WAVEBLEY  NOVELS 

''  It  is  what  I  anxiously  desire,  my  lord/'  said  Sir  William 
Ashton,    eagerly.      "Lady  Asliton,  we  will  not  permit  my 

Lord  of  A to  leave  us  in  displeasure.     We  must  compel 

him  to  tarry  dinner  at  the  castle." 

"■  The  castle,"  said  the  lady,  "  and  all  that  it  contains,  are 
at  the  command  o.f  the  Marquis,  so  long  as  he  chooses  to  honor 
It  with  his  residence ;  but  touching  the  farther  discussion  of 
this  disagreeable  topic " 

"Pardon  me,  good  madam,''  said  the  Marquis;  "  but  I 
cannot  allow  you  to  express  any  hasty  resolution  on  a  subject 
so  important.  I  see  that  more  company  is  arriving ;  and, 
since  I  have  the  good  fortune  to  renew  my  former  acquaint- 
ance with  Lady  Ashton,  I  hope  she  will  give  me  leave  to  avoid 
perilling  what  I  prize  so  highly  upon  any  disagreeable  subject 
of  discussion — at  least  till  we  have  talked  over  more  pleasant 
topics." 

The  lady  smiled,  courtesied,  and  gave  her  hand  to  tht 
Marquis,  by  whom,  with  all  the  formal  gallantry  of  the  time, 
which  did  not  permit  the  guest  to  tuck  the  lady  of  the  house 
under  the  arm,  as  a  rustic  does  his  sweetheart  at  a  wake,  she 
was  ushered  to  the  eating-room. 

Here  they  were  joined  by  Bucklaw,  Craigengelt.  and  other 
neighbors,  whom  the  Lord  Keeper  had  previously  invited  to 

meet  the  Marquis  of  A .     An  apology,  founded  upon  a 

slight  indisposition,  was  alleged  as  an  excuse  for  the  absence 
of  Miss  Ashton,  whose  seat  appeared  unoccupied.  The  enter- 
tainment was  splendid  to  profusion,  and  was  protracted  till  a 
late  hour. 


CHAPTER    XXIII 

Such  was  our  fallen  father's  fate, 

Yet  better  than  mine  own  ; 
He  shared  his  exile  Avith  his  mate, 

I'm  banish'd  forth  alone. 

Waller. 

I  WILL  not  attempt  to  describe  the  mixture  of  indignation 
and  regret  with  whicli  Kavenswood  left  the  seat  which  had 
belonged  to  his  ancestors.  The  terms  in  which  Lady  Ash- 
ton^s  billet  was  couched  rendered  it  impossible  for  him,  with- 
out being  deficient  in  that  spirit  of  which  he  perhaps  had 
too  much,  to  remain  an  instant  longer  within  its  walls.  The 
Marquis,  who  had  his  share  in  the  afEronl,  was,  nevertheless, 
still  willing  to  make  some  efforts  at  conciliation.  He  there- 
fore suffered  his  kinsman  to  depart  alone,  making  him 
promise,  however,  tliat  he  would  wait  for  him  at  the  small  inn 
called  the  Tod's  Hole,  situated,  as  our  readers  may  be  pleased 
to  recollect,  half-  way  betwixt  Eavenswood  Castle  and  Wolf's 
Drag,  and  about  five  Scottish  miles  distant  from  each.  Here 
the  Marquis  proposed  to  join  the  Master  of  Eavenswood, 
either  that  night  or  the  next  morning.  His  own  feelings 
would  have  induced  him  to  have  left  the  castle  directly,  but 
he  was  loth  to  forfeit,  without  at  least  one  effort,  the  advan- 
tages which  he  had  proposed  from  his  visit  to  the  Lord 
Keeper ;  and  the  Master  of  Eavenswood  was,  even  in  the  very 
heat  of  his  resentment,  unwilling  to  foreclose  any  chance  of 
reconciliation  which  might  arise  out  of  the  partiality  which 
Sir  William  Ashton  had  shown  towards  him,  as  well  as  the 
intercessory  arguments  of  his  noble  kinsman.  He  himself 
departed  without  a  moment's  delay,  farther  than  was  neces- 
sary to  make  this  arrangement. 

At  first  he  spurred  his  horse  at  a  quick  pace  through  an 
avenue  of  the  park,  as  if,  by  rapidity  of  motion,  he  could 
stupefy  the  confusion  of  feelings  with  which  he  was  assailed. 
But  as  the  road  grew  wilder  and  more  sequestered,  and  when 
the  trees  had  hidden  the  tiarrets  of  the  castle,  he  gradually 
slackened  his  pace,  as  if  to  indulge  the  painful  reflections 
which  he  had  in  vain  endeavored  to  repress.  The  path  in 
which  he  found  himself  led  him  to  the  Mermaiden's  Fountain, 

211 


213  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

and  to  the  cottage  of  Alice ;  and  the  fatal  inflnence  which 
superstitious  belief  attached  to  the  former  spot,  as  well  as  the 
admonitions  which  had  been  in  vain  offered  to  him  by  the  in- 
habitant of  the  latter,  forced  themselves  upon  his  memory. 
"  Old  saws  speak  truth,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  and  the  Mer- 
maiden's  Well  has  indeed  witnessed  the  last  act  of  rashness  of 
the  heir  of  Ravenswood.  Alice  spoke  well,"  he  continued, 
''and  I  am  in  the  situation  which  she  foretold ;  or  rather,  I 
am  more  deeply  dishonored — not  the  dependant  and  ally  of 
the  destroyer  of  my  father's  house,  as  the  old  sibyl  presaged, 
but  the  degraded  wretch  who  has  aspired  to  hold  that  subordi- 
nate character,  and  has  been  rejected  with  disdain," 

We  are  bound  to  tell  the  tale  as  we  have  received  it  ;  and, 
considering  the  distance  of  the  time,  and  propensity  of  those 
through  whose  mouths  it  has  passed  to  the  marvellous,  this 
could  not  be  called  a  Scottish  story  unless  it  manifested  a 
tinge  of  Scottish  superstition.  As  Ravenswood  approached 
the  solitary  fountain,  he  is  said  to  have  met  with  the  following 
singular  adventure :  His  horse,  which  was  moving  slowly 
forward,  suddenly  interrupted  its  steady  and  composed  pace, 
snorted,  reared,  and,  though  urged  by  the  spur,  refused  to 
]3roceed,  as  if  some  object  of  terror  had  suddenly  presented 
itself.  On  looking  to  the  fountain,  Ravenswood  discerned  a 
female  figure,  dressed  in  a  white,  or  rather  grayish,  mantle, 
placed  on  the  very  spot  on  which  Lucy  Ashton  had  reclined 
while  listening  to  the  fatal  tale  of  love.  His  immediate  im- 
pression was  that  she  had  conjectured  by  which  path  he  would 
traverse  the  park  on  his  departure,  and  placed  herself  at  this 
well-known  and  sequestered  place  of  rendezvous,  to  indulge  her 
own  sorrow  and  his  in  a  parting  interview.  In  this  belief  he 
jumped  from  his  horse,  and,  making  its  bridle  fast  to  a  tree, 
walked  hastily  towards  the  fountain,  pronouncing  eagerly, 
yet  under  his  breath,  the  words,  "  Miss  Ashton  ! — Lucy  ! " 

The  figure  turned  as  he  addressed  it,  and  displayed  to  his 
wondering  eyes  the  features,  not  of  Lucy  Ashton,  but  of  old 
blind  Alice.  The  singularity  of  her  dress,  which  rather  re- 
sembled a  shroud  than  the  garment  of  a  living  woman  ;  the 
appearance  of  her  person,  larger,  as  it  struck  him,  than  it 
usually  seemed  to  be  ;  above  all,  the  strange  circumstance  of 
a  blind,  infirm,  and  decrepit  person  being  found  alone  and  at 
a  distance  from  her  habitation  (considerable,  if  her  infirmities 
be  taken  into  account),  combined  to  impress  him  with  a  feeling 
of  wonder  approaching  to  fear.  As  he  approached,  she  arose 
slowly  from  her  seat,  held  her  shrivelled  hand  up  as  if  to  pre- 
vent his  coming  more  near,  and  her  withered  lips  moved  fast. 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  218 

although  no  sound  issued  from  them.  Kavenswood  stopped  ; 
and  as,  after  a  moment's  pause,  he  again  advanced  towards 
her,  Alice,  or  her  apparition,  moved  or  glided  backwards 
towards  the  thicket,  still  keeping  her  face  turned  towards 
him.  The  trees  soon  hid  the  form  from  his  sight,  and,  yielding 
to  the  strong  and  terrific  impression  that  the  being  which 
he  had  seen  was  not  of  this  world,  the  Master  of  Ravenswood 
remained  rooted  to  the  ground  whereon  he  had  stood  when  he 
caught  his  last  view  of  her.  At  length,  summoning  up  his 
courage,  he  advanced  to  the  spot  on  which  the  figure  had 
seemed  to  be  seated ;  but  neither  was  there  pressure  of  the 
grass  nor  any  other  circumstance  to  induce  him  to  believe 
that  what  he  had  seen  was  real  and  substantial. 

Full  of  those  strange  thoughts  and  confused  apprehensions 
which  awake  in  the  bosom  of  one  who  conceives  he  has  wit- 
nessed some  preternatural  appearance,  the  Master  of  Eavens- 
wood  walked  back  towards  his  horse,  frequently,  however, 
looking  behind  him,  not  without  apprehension,  as  if  expect- 
ing that  the  vision  would  reappear.  But  the  apparition, 
whether  it  was  real  or  whether  it  was  the  creation  of  a  heated 
and  agitated  imagination,  returned  not  again  ;  and  he  found 
his  horse  sweating  and  terrified,  as  if  experiencing  that  agony 
of  fear  with  which  the  presence  of  a  supernatural  being  is 
supposed  to  agitate  the  brute  creation.  The  Master  mounted, 
and  rode  slowly  forward,  soothing  his  steed  from  time  to 
time,  while  the  animal  seemed  internally  to  slirink  and  shud- 
der, as  if  expecting  some  new  object  of  fear  at  the  opening  of 
every  glade.  The  rider,  after  a  moments  consideration,  re- 
solved to  investigate  the  matter  farther.  *'  Can  my  eyes  have 
deceived  me,"  he  said,  "  and  deceived  me  for  such  a  space  of 
time  ?  Or  are  this  woman's  infirmities  but  feigned,  in  order 
to  excite  compassion  ?  And  even  then,  her  motion  resembled 
not  that  of  a  living  and  existing  person.  Must  I  adopt  the 
popular  creed,  and  think  that  the  unhappy  being  has  formed 
a  league  with  the  powers  of  darkness  ?  I  am  determined  to 
be  resolved  ;  I  will  not  brook  imposition  even  from  my  own 
eyes. " 

In  this  uncertainty  he  rode  up  to  the  little  wicket  of 
Alice's  garden.  Her  seat  beneatli  the  birch-tree  was  vacant, 
•■.hough  the  day  was  pleasant  and  the  sun  was  high.  He 
approached  the  hut,  and  heard  from  within  the  sobs  and 
wailing  of  a  female.  No  answer  was  returned  when  he 
knocked,  so  that,  after  a  moment's  pause,  he  lifted  the  latch 
and  entered.  It  was  indeed  a  house  of  solitude  and  sorrow. 
Stretched  upon  her  miserable  pallet  lay  the  corpse  of  the  last 


214  WAVERLEY  NO\^ELS 

retainer  of  the  house  of  Ravenswood  who  still  abode  on  their 
paternal  domains  !  Life  had  but  shortly  departed  ;  and  the 
little  girl  by  whom  she  had  been  attended  in  her  last  moments 
was  wringing  her  hands  and  sobbing,  betwixt  childish  fear 
and  sorrow,  over  the  body  of  her  mistress. 

The  Master  of  Ravenswood  had  some  difficulty  to  com- 
pose the  terrors  of  the  poor  child,  whom  his  unexpected 
appearance  had  at  first  rather  appalled  than  comforted  ;  and 
when  he  succeeded,  the  first  expression  which  the  girl  used 
intimated  that  "  he  had  come  too  late."  Upon  inquiring  the 
meaning  of  this  expression,  he  learned  that  the  deceased, 
upon  the  first  attack  of  the  mortal  agony,  had  sent  a  peasant 
to  the  castle  to  beseech  an  interview  of  the  Master  of  Ra- 
venswood, and  had  expressed  the  utmost  impatience  for  his 
return.  But  the  messengers  of  the  poor  are  tardy  and  negli- 
gent :  the  fellow  had  not  reached  the  castle,  as  was  afterwards 
learned,  until  Ravenswood  had  left  it,  and  had  then  found 
too  much  amusement  among  the  retinue  of  the  strangers  to 
return  in  any  haste  to  the  cottage  of  Alice.  Meantime  her 
anxiety  of  mind  seemed  to  increase  with  the  agony  of  her 
body  ;  and,  to  use  the  phrase  of  Babie,  her  only  attendant, 
"  she  prayed  powerfully  that  she  might  see  her  master^s  son 
once  more,  and  renew  her  warning."  She  died  just  as  the 
clock  in  the  distant  village  tolled  one  ;  and  Ravenswood  re- 
membered, with  internal  shuddering,  that  he  had  heard  the 
chime  sound  through  the  wood  just  before  he  had  seen  what 
he  was  now  much  disposed  to  consider  as  the  spectre  of  the 
deceased. 

It  was  necessary,  as  well  from  his  respect  to  the  departed 
as  in  common  humanity  to  her  terrified  attendant,  that  he 
should  take  some  measures  to  relieve  the  girl  from  her  dis- 
tressing situation.  The  deceased,  he  understood,  had  ex- 
pressed a  desire  to  be  buried  in  a  solitary  churchyard,  near 
the  little  inn  of  the  Tod's  Hole,  called  the  Hermitage,  or  more 
commonly  Armitage,  in  which  lay  interred  some  of  the  Ravens- 
wood family,  and  many  of  their  followers.  Ravenswood  con- 
ceived it  his  duty  to  gratify  this  predilection,  so  commonly 
found  to  exist  among  the  Scottish  peasantry,  and  dispatched 
Babie  to  the  neighboring  village  to  procure  the  assistance  of 
some  females,  assuring  her  that,  in  the  mean  while,  he  would 
himself  remain  with  the  dead  body,  which,  as  in  Thessaly  of 
old,  it  is  accounted  highly  unfit  to  leave  without  a  watch. 

Thus,  in  the  course  of  a  quarter  of  an  hour  or  little  more, 
he  found  himself  sitting  a  solitary  guard  over  the  inanimate 
corpse  of  her  whose  dismissed  spirit,  unless  his  eyes   had 


IHE  BRIDE  OF   LAMMERMOOR  21b 

strangely  deceived  him,  had  so  recently  manifested  itself  be- 
fore him.  Notwithstanding  his  natural  courage,  the  Master 
was  considerably  affected  by  a  concurrence  of  circumstances 
so  extraardinary.  "She  died  expressing  her  eager  desire  to 
see'me.  Can  it  be,  then/'  was  his  natural  course  of  reflection 
— "  can  strong  and  earnest  wishes,  formed  during  the  last 
agony  of  nature,  survive  its  catastrophe,  surmount  the  awful 
bounds  of  the  spiritual  world,  and  place  before  us  its  inhabi- 
tants in  tlie  hues  and  coloring  of  life  ?  And  why  was  that 
manifested  to  the  eye  which  could  not  unfold  its  tale  to  the 
e  ir  ?  and  wherefore  should  a  breach  be  made  in  the  laws  of 
nature,  yet  its  purpose  remain  unknown  ?  Vain  questions, 
which  only  death,  wlien  it  shall  make  me  like  the  pale  and 
withered  form  before  me,  can  ever  resolve." 

He  laid  a  cloth,  as  he  spoke,  over  the  lifeless  face,  upon 
whose  features  he  felt  unwilling  any  longer  to  dwell.  He  then 
took  his  place  in  an  old  carved  oaken  chair,  ornamented  with 
his  own  armorial  bearings,  which  Alice  had  contrived  to  ap- 
propriate to  her  own  use  in  the  pillage  which  took  place  among 
creditors,  offisers,  domestics,  and  messengers  of  the  law  when 
his  father  left  Eavenswood  Castle  for  the  last  time.  Thus 
saated,  he  banished,  as  much  as  he  could,  the  superstitious 
feelings  which  the  late  incident  inspired.  His  own  were  sad 
enough,  without  the  exaggeration  of  supernatural  terror,  since 
he  found  liimself  transferred  from  the  situation  of  a  success- 
ful lover  of  Lucy  Ashton,  and  an  lionored  and  respected  friend 
of  her  father^  into  the  melancholy  and  solitary  guardian  of 
the  abandoned  and  forsaken  corpse  of  a  comaion  pauper. 

He  was  relieved,  however,  from  his  sad  office  sooner  than 
he  could  reasonably  have  expected,  considering  the  distance 
betwixt  the  hut  of  the  deceased  and  the  village,  and  the  age 
and  infirmities  of  three  old  women  who  came  from  thence, 
in  military  phrase,  to  relieve  guard  upon  the  body  of  the  de- 
funct. On  any  other  occasion  the  speed  of  these  reverend 
sibyls  would  have  been  much  more  moderate,  for  the  first  was 
eighty  years  of  age  and  upwards,  the  second  was  paralytic, 
and  the  third  lame  of  a  leg  from  some  accident.  But  the 
burial  duties  rendered  to  the  deceased  are,  to  the  Scottish 
peasant  of  either  sex,  a  labor  of  love.  I  know  not  whether  it 
is  from  the  temper  of  the  people,  grave  and  enthusiastic  as  it 
certainly  is,  or  from  the  recollection  of  the  ancient  Catholic 
opinions,  when  the  funeral  rites  were  always  considered  as 
a  period  of  festival  to  the  living  ;  but  feasting,  good  cheer, 
and  even  inebriety,  were,  and  are,  the  frequent  accompani- 
ments of  A  ScottL«»h  old-fashioned  burial.     What  the  funeral 


216  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

feast,  or  "  dirgie,"  as  it  is  called,  was  to  the  men,  the  gloomy 
preparations  of  the  dead  body  for  the  coffin  were  to  the  women. 
To  straighten  the  contorted  limbs  upon  a  board  used  for  that 
melancholy  purpose,  to  array  the  corpse  in  clean  linen,  and 
over  that  in  its  woollen  shroud,  were  operations  committed 
always  to  the  old  matrons  of  the  village,  and  in  which  they 
found  a  singular  and  gloomy  delight. 

The  old  women  paid  the  Master  their  salutations  with  a 

fhastly  smile,  which  reminded  him  of  the  meeting  betwixt 
lacbeth  and  the  witches  on  the  blasted  heath  of  Forres.  He 
gave  them  some  money,  and  recommended  to  them  the  charge 
of  the  dead  body  of  their  contemporary,  an  office  which  they 
willingly  undertook  ;  intimating  to  him  at  the  same  time  that 
he  must  leave  the  hut,  in  order  that  they  might  begin  their 
mournful  duties.  Ravenswood  readily  agreed  to  depart,  only 
tarrying  to  recommend  to  them  due  attention  to  the  body, 
and  to  receive  information  where  he  was  to  find  the  sexton, 
or  beadle,  who  had  in  charge  the  deserted  churchyard  of  the 
Armitage,  in  order  to  prepare  matters  for  the  reception  of 
Old  Alice  in  the  place  of  repose  which  she  had  selected  for 
herself. 

"  Ye'll  no  be  pinched  to  find  out  Johnie  Mortsheugh,'^  said 
the  elder  sibyl,  and  still  her  withered  cheek  bore  a  grisly  smile  ; 
''he  dwells  near  the  Tod's  Hole,  a  house  of  entertain- 
ment where  there  has  been  mony  a  blithe  birling,  for  death 
and  drink-draining  are  near  neighbors  to  ane  anither." 

"Ay  !  and  that's  e'en  true,  cummer,"  said  the  lame  hag, 
propping  herself  Avith  a  cratch  which  supported  the  shortness 
of  her  left  leg,  "for  I  mind  when  the  father  of  this  Master  of 
Ravenswood  that  is  now  standing  before  us  sticked  young 
Blackball  with  his  whinger,  for  a  wrang  word  said  ower  their 
wine,  or  brandy,  or  what-not :  he  gaed  in  as  light  as  a  lark, 
and  he  came  out  wi'  his  feet  foremost.  I  was  at  the  winding 
of  the  corpse  ;  aiid  when  the  bluid  was  washed  off,  he  was  a 
bonny  bouk  of  man's  body." 

It  may  be  easily  believed  that  this  ill-timed  anecdote  has- 
tened the  Master's  purpose  of  quitting  a  company  so  evil- 
omened  and  so  odious.  Yet,  while  walking  to  the  tree  to 
which  his  horse  was  tied,  and  busying  himself  with  adjusting 
the  girths  of  the  saddle,  he  could  not  avoid  hearing,  through 
the  hedge  of  the  little  garden,  a  conversation  respecting  him- 
self, betwixt  the  lame  woman  and  the  octogenarian  sibyl.  The 
pair  had  hobbled  into  the  garden  to  gather  rosemary,  south- 
ern-wood, rue,  and  other  plants  proper  to  be  strewed  upon  the 
body,  and  burned  by  way  of  fumigation  in  the  chimney  of  the 


THE  BRTDE  OF  LA]\TMERMOOn  31* 

cottage.  Tlie  paralytic  wretcli,  almost  exhausted  by  the 
journey,  was  left  guard  upon  the  corpse,  lest  witches  or  fiends 
might  play  their  sport  with  it. 

The  following  low,  croaking  dialogue  was  necessarily  over- 
heard by  the  Master  of  Ravenswood  : 

"  That's  a  fresh  and  full-grown  hemlock,  Annie  "Winnie  ; 
mony  a  cummer  lang  syne  wad  hae  sought  nae  better  horse 
to  flee  over  hill  and  liow.  through  mist  and  moonlight,  and 
light  down  in  the  King  of  France's  cellar." 

"  Ay,  cummer  !  but  the  very  deil  has  turned  as  hard- 
liearted  now  as  the  Lord  Keeper  and  the  grit  folk,  that  hae 
breasts  like  whinstane.  They  prick  us  and  they  pine  us, 
and  they  pit  us  on  the  pinnywinkles  for  witches ;  and,  if  I 
say  my  prayers  backwards  ten  times  ower,  Satan  will  never 
gie  me  amends  o'  them." 

"  Did  ye  ever  see  the  foul  thief  ?  "  asked  her  neighbor. 

"Na  !"  replied  the  other  spokeswoman  ;  "  but  I  trow  I 
hae  dreamed  of  him  mony  a  time,  and  I  think  the  day  will 
come  they  will  burn  me  for't.  But  ne'er  mind,  cummer  I 
we  hae  this  dollar  of  the  Master's,  and  we'll  send  doun  for 
bread  and  for  yill,  and  tobacco,  and  a  drap  brandy  to  burn, 
and  a  wee  pickle  saft  sugar  ;  and  be  there  deil,  or  nadeil,  lass, 
we'll  hae  a  merry  night  o't." 

Here  her  leathern  chops  uttered  a  sort  of  cackling,  ghastly 
laugh,  resembling,  to  a  certain  degree,  the  cry  of  the  screech- 
owl. 

"'  He's  a  frank  man,  and  a  free-handed  man,  the  Master," 
said  Annie  Winnie,  "and  a  comely  personage — broad  in  the 
shouthers,  and  narrow  around  the  lunyies.  He  wad  mak  a 
bonnv  corpse  ;  I  wad  like  to  hae  the  streiking  and  winding  o' 
him.'' 

''It  is  written  on  his  brow,  Annie  Winnie,"  returned  the 
octogenarian,  her  companion,  "  that  hand  of  woman,  or  of 
man  either,  will  never  straught  him  :  dead-deal  will  never  be 
laid  on  his  back,  make  you  your  market  of  that,  for  I  hae  it 
frae  a  sure  hand." 

"•  Will  it  be  his  lot  to  die  on  the  battle-ground  then, 
Ailsie  Gourlay  ?  Will  he  die  by  the  sword  or  the  ball,  as  his 
forbears  hae  dune  before  him,  mony  ane  o'  them  ?  " 

"  Ask  nae  mair  questions  about  it — he'll  no  be  graced  sae 
far,"  replied  the  sage. 

"I  ken  ye  are  wiser  than  ither  folk,  Ailsie  Gourlay. 
But  whatelled  ye  this?" 

"Fashna  your  thumb  about  that,  Annie  Winnie,"  an,- 
Bwered  the  sibyl,  "I  hae  it  frae  a  hand  sure  eneugh." 


818  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

"  But  ye  said  ye  never  saw  the  foul  thief/'  reiterated  her 
inquisitive  companion, 

*''I  liae  it  frae  as  sure  a  hand,"  said  Ailsie,  **and  frae 
them  that  spaed  his  fortune  before  the  sark  gaed  ower  his 
head." 

''  Hark  !  I  hear  his  horse's  feet  riding  afF,"  said  the  other  ; 
''  they  dinna  sound  as  if  good  luck  was  wi'  them." 

"  Mak  haste,  sirs,"  cried  the  paralytic  hag  from  the  cot- 
tage, "  and  let  us  do  what  is  needfu',  and  say  what  is  fitting  ; 
for,  if  the  dead  corpse  binna  straughted,  it  will  girn  and 
thraw,  and  that  will  fear  the  best  o'  us." 

Ravenswood  was  now  out  of  hearing.  He  despised  most 
of  the  ordinary  prejudices  about  witchcraft,  omens,  and  vati- 
cination, to  which  his  age  and  country  still  gave  such  implicit 
credit  that  to  express  a  doubt  of  them  was  accounted  a  crime 
equal  to  the  unbelief  of  Jews  or  Saracens ;  he  knew  also  that 
the  prevailing  belief  concerning  witches,  operating  upon  the 
hypochondriac  habits  of  those  whom  age,  infirmity,  and  pov- 
erty rendered  liable  to  suspicion,  and  enforced  by  the  fear  of 
death  and  the  pangs  of  the  most  cruel  tortures,  often  extorted 
those  confessions  which  encumber  and  disgrace  the  criminal 
records  of  Scotland  during  the  17th  century.  But  the  vision 
of  that  morning,  whether  real  or  imaginary,  had  impressed 
his  mind  with  a  superstitious  feeling  which  he  in  vain  endeav- 
ored to  shake  off.  The  nature  of  the  business  which  awaited 
him  at  the  little  inn,  called  Tod's  Hole,  where  he  soon  after 
arrived,  was  not  of  a  kind  to  restore  his  spirits. 

It  was  necessary  he  should  see  Mortsheugh,  the  sexton  of 
the  old  burial-ground  at  Armitage,  to  arrange  matters  for  the 
funeral  of  Alice  ;  and,  as  the  man  dwelt  near  the  place  of  her 
late  residence,  the  Master,  after  a  slight  refreshment,  walked 
towards  the  place  where  the  body  of  Alice  was  to  be  deposited- 
It  was  situated  in  the  nook  formed  by  the  eddying  sweep  of  a 
stream,  which  issued  from  the  adjoining  hills.  A  rude  cavern 
in  an  adjacent  rock,  which,  in  the  interior,  was  cut  into  the 
shape  of  a  cross,  formed  the  hermitage,  where  some  Saxon 
saint  had  in  ancient  times  done  penance,  and  given  name  to 
the  place.  The  rich  Abbey  of  Coldinghame  had,  in  latter  days, 
established  a  chapel  in  the  neighborhood,  of  which  no  vestige 
was  now  visible,  though  the  churchyard  which  surrounded  it 
was  still,  as  upon  the  present  occasion,  used  for  the  interment 
of  particular  persons.  One  or  two  shattered  yew-trees  still 
grew  within  the  precincts  of  that  which  had  once  been  holy 
ground.  Warriors  and  barons  had  been  buried  there  of  old, 
but  their  names  were  forgotten,  and  their  monuments  de- 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  319 

molished.  The  only  sepulchral  memorials  which  remained 
were  the  upright  headstones  which  mark  the  graves  of  persons 
of  inferior  rank.  The  abode  of  the  sexton  was  a  solitary  cot- 
tage adjacent  to  the  ruined  wall  of  the  cemetery,  but  so  low 
that,  with  its  thatch,  which  nearly  reached  the  ground, 
covered  with  a  thick  crop  of  grass,  fog,  and  house-leeks,  ii 
resembled  an  overgrown  grave.  On  inquiry,  however.  Ravens- 
wood  found  that  the  man  of  the  last  mattock  was  absent  at  a 
bridal,  being  fiddler  as  well  as  grave-digger  to  the  vicinity. 
He  therefore  retired  to  the  little  inn,  leaving  a  message  that 
early  next  morning  he  would  again  call  for  the  person 
whose  double  occupation  connected  him  at  once  with  the 
house  of  mourning  and  the  house  of  feasting. 

An  outrider  of  the  Marquis  arrived  at  Tod's  Hole  shortly 
after  with  a  message,  intimating  that  his  master  would  Join 
Eavenswood  at  that  place  on  the  following  morning  ;  and  the 
Master,  who  would  otherwise  have  proceeded  to  his  old  retreat 
at  Wolf's  Crag,  remained  there  accordingly  to  give  meeting 
to  his  noble  kinsman. 


CHAPTEE   XXIV 

Hamlet.  Has   this  fellow    no  feeling  of  his  business?  he  sings  at 

grave-making. 
Horatio.  Custom  hath  made  it  in  him  a  property  of  easiness. 
Hamlet.  'Tis  e'en  so  :   the  hand  of    little    employment    hath  the 

daintier  sense. 

Hamlet,  Act  V.,  Scene  1 

The  sleep  of  Eavenswood  was  broken  by  ghastly  and  agitat- 
ing visions,  and  his  waking  intervals  disturbed  by  melancholy 
reflections  of  the  past  and  painful  anticipations  of  the  future. 
He  was  perhaps  the  only  traveller  who  ever  slept  in  that 
miserable  kennel  without  complaining  of  his  lodgings,  or 
feeling  inconvenience  from  their  deficiencies.  It  is  when 
'*■  the  mind  is  free  the  body's  delicate."  Morning,  however, 
found  the  Master  an  early  riser,  in  hopes  that  the  fresh  air  of 
the  \lawn  might  aiford  the  refreshment  which  night  had 
refused  him.  He  took  his  way  toward  the  solitary  burial- 
ground,  which  lay  aboitt  half  a  mile  from  the  inn. 

The  thin  blue  smoke,  which  already  began  to  curl  up- 
ward, and  to  distinguish  the  cottage  of  the  living  from  the 
habitation  of  the  dead,  aj^prised  him  that  its  inmate  had  re- 
turned and  was  stirring.  Accordingly,  on  entering  the  little 
churchyard,  he  saw  the  old  man  laboring  in  a  half-made 
grave.  "^My  destiny,"  thought  Eavenswood,  "seems  to  lead 
me  to  scenes  of  fate  and  of  death  ;  but  these  are  childi&h 
thoughts,  and  they  shall  not  master  me.  I  will  not  again 
suffer  my  imagination  to  beguile  my  senses."  The  old  man 
rested  on  his  spade  as  the  Master  approached  him,  as  if  to  re- 
ceive his  commands  :  and  as  he  did  not  immediately  speak; 
the  sexton  opened  the  discourse  in  his  own  way. 

"  Ye  will  be  a  wedding  customer,  sir,  I'se  warrant  ? 

"What  makes  you  think  so,  friend  ?"  replied  the  Master. 

"I  live  by  twa  trades,  sir,"  replied  the  blithe  old  man — 
"  fiddle,  sir,  and  spade  ;  filling  the  world,  and  emptying  of 
it ;  and  I  suld  ken  baith  cast  of  customers  by  head-mark  in 
thirty  years'  practice." 

"You  are  mistaken,  however,  this  morning,"  replied 
Eavenswood. 

" Am  If  said  the   old   man,  looking  keenly  at  hinv 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  331 

'•'troth  and  it  may  be  ;  since,  for  as  brent  as  your  brow  is, 
there  is  sometliing  sitting  npon  it  this  day  that  is  as  near  akin 
to  death  as  to  wedlock.  Weel — weel ;  the  pick  and  shovel  are 
as  ready  to  your  order  as  bow  and  fiddle." 

"I  wish  you,"  said  Ravenswood,  "  to  look  after  the  decent 
interment  of  an  old  woman,  Alice  Gray,  who  lived  at  the 
Craigfoot  in  Ravenswood  Park." 

"Alice  Gray! — blind  Alice!"  said  the  sexton;  "and  is 
she  gane  at  last  ?  that's  another  jow  of  the  bell  to  bid  me  be 
ready.  I  mind  when  Habbie  Gray  brought  hei'  down  to  this 
land  ;  a  likely  lass  she  was  then,  and  looked  ower  her  south- 
land nose  at  us  a\  I  trow  her  pride  got  a  downcome.  And 
is  she  e'en  gane  ?  " 

••  She  died  yesterday,"  said  Ravenswood  ;  "and  desired  to 
be  buried  here  beside  her  husband ;  you  know  where  he  lies, 
no  doubt  ?  " 

•'  Kenw  here  he  lies  1  "answered  the  sexton,  with  national 
indirection  of  response.  "  I  ken  whar  a'body  lies,  that  lies 
here.  But  ye  were  speaking  o'  her  grave  ?  Lord  help  us, 
it's  no  an  ordinar  grave  that  will  hand  her  in,  if  a's  true  that 
folk  said  of  Alice  m  her  auld  days  ;  and  if  I  gae  to  six  feet 
deep — and  a  warlock's  grave  shouldna  be  an  inch  mair  ebb,  oi- 
lier ain  witch  cummers  would  soon  whirl  her  out  of  her 
shroud  for  a'  their  auld  acquaintance — and  be't  six  feet,  or 
be't  three,  wlia's  to  pay  the  making  o't,  I  pray  ye  ?  " 

"I  will  pay  that,  my  friend,  and  all  other  reasonable 
charges. " 

"Reasonable  charges!"  said  the  sexton  ;"ou,  there's 
grund-mail — and  bell-siller,  though  the  bell's  broken,  nao 
doubt — and  the  kist — and  my  day's  Avark — and  my  bit  fee — - 
and  some  brandy  and  yill  to  the  dirgie ;  I  am  no  thinking 
that  you  can  inter  her,  to  ca'  decently,  under  saxteen  puna 
Scots." 

"  There  is  the  money,  my  friend,"  said  Ravenswood, 
"and  something  over.     Be  sure  you  know  the  grave." 

"  Ye'U  be  ane  o'  her  English  relations,  I'se  warrant,"  said 
the  hoary  man  of  skulls  ;  "I  hae  heard  she  married  far  be- 
low her  station.  It  was  very  right  to  let  her  bite  on  the 
bridle  when  she  was  living,  and  it's  very  right  to  gie  her  a 
decent  burial  now  she's  dead,  for  that's  a  matter  o' credit  to 
yoursell  rather  than  to  her.  Folk  may  let  their  kindred 
shift  for  themsells  when  they  are  alive,  and  can  bear  the  bur- 
den of  their  ain  misdoings  ;  but  it's  an  unnatural  thing  to  let 
them  be  buried  like  dogs,  when  a'  the  discredit  gangs  to  the 
kmdred.     What  kens  the  dead  corpse  about  it  ?" 


223  WAVERLEV  NOVELS 

"  You  would  not  have  people  neglect  their  relations  on  a 
bridal  occasion  neither  ?"  said  Kavenswood,  who  was  amused 
with  the  professional  limitation  of  the  grave-digger's  philan- 
thropy. 

The  old  man  cast  up  his  sharp  gray  eyes  with  a  shrewd 
smile,  as  if  he  understood  the  jest,  but  instantly  continued, 
with  his  former  gravity,  "  Bridals — wha  wad  neglect  bridals 
that  had  ony  regard  for  plenishing  the  earth  ?  To  be  sure, 
they  suld  be  celebrated  with  all  manner  of  good  cheer,  and. 
meeting  of  friends,  and  musical  instruments — harp,  sackbut, 
and  psaltery  ;  or  gude  fiddle  and  j^ipes,  when  these  auld-warld 
instruments  of  melody  are  hard  to  be  compassed." 

"  The  presence  of  tlie  fiddle,  I  dare  say,"  replied  Eavens- 
wood,  "would  atone  for  the  absence  of  all  the  others." 

The  sexton  again  looked  sharply  up  at  him,  as  he  an- 
swered, "jS^ae  doubt — nae  doubt,  if  it  were  weel  played; 
but  yonder,"  he  said,  as  if  to  change  the  discourse,  "  is  Hal- 
bert  Gray's  lang  hame,  that  ye  were  speering  after,  just 
the  third  bourock  beyond  the  muckle  through-stane  that 
stands  on  sax  legs  yonder,  abune  some  ane  of  the  Eavenswoods  ; 
for  there  is  mony  of  their  kin  and  followers  here,  deil  lift 
them  !  though  it  isna  just  their  main  burial-place." 

''They  are  no  favorites,  then,  of  yours,  these  Eavens- 
woods  ?  "  said  the  Master,  not  much  pleased  with  the  pass- 
ing benediction  which  was  thus  bestowed  on  his  family  and 
name. 

'*  I  kenna  wha  should  favor  them,"  said  the  grave-digger  ; 
"  when  they  had  lands  and  power,  they  were  ill  guides  of 
them  baith,  and  now  their  head's  down,  there's  few  care  how 
lang  they  may  be  of  lifting  it  again." 

"  Indeed  !"  said  Eavenswood  ;  "  I  never  heard  that  this 
nnhappy  family  deserved  ill-will  at  the  hands  of  their  country. 
I  graiit  their  poverty,  if  that  renders  them  contemptible." 

"  It  will  gang  a  far  way  till't,"  said  the  sexton  of  Hermit- 
age, "  ye  may  tak  my  word  for  that  ;  at  least,  I  ken  naething 
else  that  suld  mak  myself  contemptible,  and  folk  are  far  frae 
respecting  me  as  they  wad  do  if  I  lived  in  a  twa-lofted  sclated 
house.  But  as  for  the  Eavenswoods,  I  hae  seen  three  genera- 
tions of  them,  and  deil  ane  to  mend  other." 

"  I  thought  they  had  enjoyed  a  fair  character  in  the  coun- 
try," said  their  descendant. 

"Character  !  Ou,  ye  see,  sir,"  said  the  sexton,  "as  for 
the  auld  gudesire  body  of  a  lord.  I  lived  on  his  land  when  I 
was  a  swanking  young  chield,  and  could  hae  blawn  the  trum- 
pet wi'  onybody,  for  I  had  wind  eneugh  then  ;  and  touching 


THE  BRIDbJ  OF  LAMMERMOOR  223 

this  trumpeter  Marine  *  tlitit  I  had  heard  play  afore  the  lords 
of  the  circuit,  I  wad  liae  made  uae  mair  o'  him  than  of  a  bairn 
and  a  bawbee  whistle.  I  defy  him  to  hae  played  "  Boot  and 
saddle/  or  '  Horse  and  away/  or  '  Gallants,  come  trot/ 
with  me  ;  he  hadna  the  tones. " 

"  But  what  is  all  this  to  old  Lord  Ravenswood,  my  friend  ?  " 
said  the  Master,  who,  with  an  anxiety  not  unnatural  in  his 
circumstances,  was  desirous  of  prosecuting  the  musician's  first 
topic — "  what  had  his  memory  to  do  with  the  degeneracy  of 
the  trumpet  music  ?  " 

"Just  this,  sir/' answered  the  sexton,  "that  I  lost  my 
vrind  in  his  service.  Ye  see  I  was  trumpeter  at  the  castle, 
and  had  allowance  for  blawing  at  break  of  day,  and  at  dinner 
time,  and  other  whiles  when  there  was  company  about,  and  it 
pleased  my  lord  ;  and  when  he  raised  his  militia  to  caper  awa' 
to  Both  well  Brig  against  the  wrang-headed  wastland  Whigs, 
I  behoved,  reason  or  nane,  to  munt  a  horse  and  caper  awa'  wi' 
them." 

"  And  very  reasonable,"  said  Ravenswood  ;  "you  were  his 
servant  and  vassal." 

"  Servitor,  say  ye  ?  "  replied  the  sexton,  "  and  so  I  was  ; 
but  it  was  to  blaw  folk  to  their  warm  dinner,  or  at  the  warst 
to  a  decent  kirk^^ard,  and  no  to  skirl  them  awa'  to  a  bluidy 
braeside,  where  there  was  deil  a  bedral  but  the  hooded  craw. 
But  bide  ye,  ye  shall  hear  Avhat  cam  o't,  and  how  far  I  am 
bund  to  be  bedesman  to  the  Ravenswoods.  Till't,  ye  see,  we 
gaed  on  a  braw  simmer  morning,  twenty-fourth  of  June,  sax- 
teen  hundred  and  se'enty-nine,  of  a'  the  days  of  the  month 
and  year — drums  beat,  guns  rattled,  horses  kicked  and  tram- 
pled. Hackstoun  of  Rathillet  keepit  the  brig  wi'  musket  and 
carabine  and  pike,  sword  and  scythe  for  what  I  ken,  and  we 
horsemen  were  ordered  down  to  cross  at  the  ford, — I  hate 
fords  at  a'  times,  let  abee  when  there's  thousands  of  armed 
rasn  on  the  other  side.  There  was  auld  Ravenswood  bran- 
dishing his  Andrew  Ferrara  at  the  head,  and  crying  to  us  to 
come  and  buckle  to,  as  if  we  had  been  gaun  to  a  fair  ;  there 
was  Caleb  Balderstone,  that  is  living  yet,  flourishing  in  the 
rear,  and  swearing  Gog  and  Magog,  he  would  put  steel  through 
the  guts  of  ony  man  that  turned  bridle  ;  there  was  young 
Allan  Ravenswood,  that  was  then  Master,  wi'  a  bended  pistol 
in  his  hand — it  was  a  meroy  it  gaed  na  aff  ! — crying  to  me, 
that  had  scarce  as  much  wind  left  as  serve  the  necessary  pur- 
pose of  my  ain  lungs,  '  Sound,  you  poltroon  ! — sound,  you 
damned  cowardly  villain,  or  T  will  blow  your  brains  out !' 

•  See  Note  10. 


224  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

and,  to  be  sure,  I  blew  sic  points  of  war  that  the  scraugh  of  a 
clockin-hen  was  music  to  them." 

"Well,  sir,  cut  all  this  short,"  said  Kavenswood. 

"  Short !  I  had  like  to  liae  been  cut  short  mysell,  in  the 
flower  of  my  youth,  as  Scripture  says  ;  and  that's  the  very 
thing  that  I  compleen  o'.  Weel !  into  the  water  we  behoved 
a'  to  splash,  heels  ower  head,  sit  or  fa' — ae  horse  driving  on 
anither,  as  is  the  way  of  brute  beasts,  and  riders  that  hae  as 
little  sense  ;  the  very  bushes  on  the  ither  side  were  ableeze 
wi'  the  flashes  of  the  Whig  guns  ;  and  my  horse  had  just  taen 
the  grund,  when  a  blackavised  westland  carle — I  wad  mind 
the  face  o'  him  a  hundred  years  yet — an  ee  like  a  wild  falcon's, 
and  a  beard  as  broad  as  my  shovel — clapped  the  end  o'  his 
lang  black  gun  within  a  quarter's  length  of  my  lug  !  By  the 
grace  o'  Mercy,  the  horse  swarved  round,  and  I  fell  aff  at  the 
tae  side  as  the  ball  whistled  by  at  the  tither,  and  the  fell  auld 
lord  took  the  Whig  such  a  swank  wi'  his  broadsword  that  he 
made  twa  pieces  o'  his  head,  and  down  fell  the  lurdane  wi'  a' 
his  bouk  abune  me." 

"  You  were  rather  obliged  to  the  old  lord,  I  think,"  said 
Eavenswood. 

"Was  I  ?  my  sartie  !  flrst  for  bringing  me  into  jeopardy, 
would  I  nould  I,  and  then  for  whomling  a  chield  on  the  tap 
o'  me  that  dang  the  very  wind  out  of  my  body  ?  I  hae  been 
short-breathed  ever  since,  and  canna  gang  twenty  yards  with- 
out peghing  like  a  miller's  aiver." 

"You  lost,  then,  your  place  as  trumpeter  ?"  said  Ravens- 
wood. 

"Lost  it !  to  be  sure  I  lost  it,"  replied  the  sexton,  "for  I 
couldna  hae  played  pew  upon  a  dry  humlock ;  but  I  might 
hae  dune  weel  eneugh,  for  I  keepit  the  wage  and  the  free 
house,  and  little  to  dq  but  play  on  the  fiddle  to  them,  but 
for  Allan,  last  Lord  Eavenswood,  that  was  far  waur  than  ever 
his  father  was." 

"What,"  said  the  Master,  "did  my  father — I  mean,  did 
his  father's  son — this  last  Lord  Eavenswood,  deprive  you  of 
what  the  bounty  of  his  father  allowed  you  ?" 

"  Ay,  troth  did  he,"  answered  the  old  man  ;  "for  he  loot 
his  affairs  gang  to  the  dogs,  and  let  in  this  Sir  William  Ash- 
ton  on  us,  that  will  gie  naething  for  naething,  and  just  re- 
moved me  and  a'  the  puir  creatures  that  had  bite  and  soup  at 
the  castle,  and  a  hole  to  put  our  heads  in,  when  things  were 
in  the  auld  way." 

"If  Lord  Eavenswood  protected  his  people,  my  friend, 
while  he  had  the  means  of  doing  so,  I  think  they  might  spare 
his  memory,"  replied  the  Master. 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  225 

"Ye  are  welcome  to  your  ain  opinion,  sir,"  said  the  sex- 
ton ;  ''but  ye  winna  persuade  me  tluit  he  did  his  duty,  either 
to  himsell  or  to  huz  puir  dependent  creatures,  in  guiding  us 
the  gate  he  has  done  ;  he  might  liae  gien  us  life-rent  tacks  of 
our  bits  o'  houses  and  yards ;  and  me,  that^s  an  auld  man, 
living  in  yon  miserable  cabin,  that's  fitter  for  the  dead  than 
the  quick,  and  killed  wi'  rheumatise,  and  John  Smith  in  my 
dainty  bit  mailing,  and  his  window  glazen,  and  a'  because 
Ravenswood  gitided  his  gear  like  a  fule  ! " 

"It  is  but  too  true,"  said  Eavenswood,  conscience-struck  ; 
"the  penalties  of  extravagance  extend  far  beyond  the  prodi- 
gal's own  sufferings." 

"However,"  said  the  sexton,  "this  young  man  Edgar  is 
like  to  avenge  my  wrangs  on  the  haill  of  his  kindred." 

"Indeed  ?"  said  Ravenswood  ;  "why  should  you  suppose 
so?" 

"  They  say  he  is  about  to  marry  the  daughter  of  Leddy 
Ashton  ;  and  let  her  leddyship  get  his  head  ance  under  her 
oxter,  and  see  you  if  she  winna  gie  his  neck  a  thraw.  Sorra 
a  bit,  if  I  were  him  !  Let  her  alane  for  handing  a'thing  in 
het  water  that  draws  near  her.  Sae  the  warst  wish  I  shall 
wish  the  lad  is,  that  he  may  take  his  ain  creditable  gate  o't, 
and  ally  himsell  wi'  his  father's  enemies,  that  have  taken  his 
broad  lands  and  my  bonny  kail-yard  from  the  lawful  owners 
thereof." 

Cervantes  acutely  remarks,  that  flattery  is  pleasing  even 
from  the  mouth  of  a  madman  ;  and  censure,  as  well  as  praise, 
often  affects  us,  while  we  despise  the  opinions  and  motives  on 
which  it  is  founded  and  expressed.  Ravenswood,  abruptly 
reiterating  his  command  that  Alice's  funeral  should  be  at- 
tended to,  flung  away  from  the  sexton,  under  the  painful 
impression  that  the  great  as  well  as  the  small  vulgar  would 
think  of  his  engagement  with  Lucy  like  this  ignorant  and 
selfish  peasant. 

"  And  I  have  stooped  to  subject  myself  to  these  calum- 
nies, and  am  rejected  notwithstanding !  Lucy,  your  faitli 
must  be  true  and  perfect  as  the  diamond  to  compensate  for 
the  dishonor  which  men's  opinions,  and  the  conduct  of  your 
mother,  attach  to  the  heir  of  Ravenswood  ! " 

As  he  raised  his  eyes,  he  beheld  the  Marquis  of  A , 

who,  having  arrived  at  the  Tod's  Hole,  had  walked   forth  to 
look  for  his  kinsman. 

After  mutual  greetings,  he  made  some  apology  to  the 
Master  for  not  coming  forward  on  the  preceding  evening. 

It  was  his  wish,"  he  said,  "to  have  done  so,  but  he  had 


236  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

come  to  the  knowledge  of  some  matters  which  induced  hin? 
to  delay  his  purpose.  I  find,"  he  proceeded,  "  there  has 
been  a  love  affair  here,  kinsmaji ;  and  though  I  might  blame 
you  for  not  having  communicated  with  me,  as  being  in  some 
degree  the  chief  of  your  family " 

"With  your  lordship's  permission,"  said  Ravenswood,  "I 
am  deeply  grateful  for  the  interest  you  are  pleased  to  take  in 
me,  but  /am  the  chief  and  head  of  my  family." 

"  I  know  it — I  know  it,"  said  the  Marquis  ;  "in  a  strict 
heraldic  and  genealogical  sense,  you  certainly  are  so  ;  what  I 
mean  is,  that  being  in  some  measure  under  my  guardian- 
ship  " 

"  I  must  take  the  liberty  to  say,  my  lord "  answered 

Ravenswood,  and  the  tone  in  which  he  interrupted  the  Mar- 
quis boded  no  long  duration  to  the  friendship  of  the  noble 
relatives,  when  he  himself  was  interrupted  by  the  little  sex- 
ton, who  came  puffing  after  them,  to  ask  if  their  honors  would 
choose  music  at  the  change-house  to  make  up  for  short 
cheer. 

"  We  want  no  music,"  said  the  Master,  abruptly. 

"  Your  honor  disna  ken  what  ye're  refusing,  then,"  said 
the  fiddler,  with  the  impertinent  freedom  of  his  profession. 
"  I  can  play  "'  Wilt  thou  do't  again,'  and  '  The  Auld  Man's 
Mear's  Dead,'  sax  times  better  than  ever  Patie  Birnie.*  I'll 
get  my  fiddle  in  tlie  turning  of  a  coffin-screw.^ 

"Take  yourself  away,  sir,"  said  the  Marquis. 

"  And  if  your  honor  be  a  north-country  gentleman,"  said 
the  persevering  minstrel,  "  whilk  I  wad  judge  from  your 
tongue,  I  can  play  '  Liggeram  Cosh,'  and  '  Mullin  Dhu,'  and 
'  The  Cummers  of  A  thole.'  " 

"  Take  yourself  away,  friend  ;  you  interrupt  our  conver- 
sation." 

"Or  if,  under  your  honor's  favor,  ye  should  happen  to  be 
a  thought  honest,  I  can  play  [this  in  a  low  and  confidential 
tone]  '  Killiecrankie,'  and  'The  King  shall  hae  his  ain,'  and 
'  The  Auld  Stuarts  back  again  ; '  and  the  wife  at  the  change- 
house  is  a  decent,  discreet  body,  neither  kens  nor  cares  what 
toasts  are  drucken,  and  what  tunes  are  played,  in  her  house  ; 
she's  deaf  to  a'thing  but  the  clink  o'  the  siller." 

The  Marquis,  who  was  sometimes  suspected  of  Jacobitism, 
could  not  help  laughing  as  he  threw  the  fellow  a  dollar,  and 
bid  him  go  play  to  the  servants  if  he  had  a  mind,  and  leave 
them  at  peace. 

*  A  celebrated  fiddler  and  songster  of  Kinghorn.  See  Allan  Ramsay's  Collected 
Poems,  ed.  1781  {Laing). 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOH  227 

*'  Aweel,  gentlemen,"'  said  he,  "  I  am  wishing  your  honors 
gude  day.  I'll  be  a'  the  better  of  the  dollar,  and  ye'U  be  tlie  waur 
of  wanting  the  music,  I'se  tell  ye.  But  I"se  gang  hanie,  and 
finish  tlie  grave  in  the  tuning  o'  a  fiddle-string,  lay  by  my 
spade,  and  then  get  my  totlier  bread-winner;  andawa'  to  your 
folk,,  and  see  if  they  hae  oetter  lugs  tixan  their  masters/' 


OflAPTER  XXV 

True  love,  an  thou  be  true, 

Thou  has  ane  kittle  part  to  play ; 

For  fortune,  fashion,  fancy,  and  thou, 
Maun  strive  for  many  a  day. 

I've  kend  by  mony  a  friend's  tale, 
Far  better  by  this  heart  of  mine, 

What  time  and  change  of  fancy  avail 
A  true-love  knot  to  untwine. 

Hendersoitn. 

^'I  "WISHED  to  tell  you,  my  good  kinsman,"  said  the  Marquis, 
"  now  that  we  are  quit  of  that  impertinent  fiddler,  that  I  had 
tried  to  discuss  this  love  affair  of  yours  with  Sir  William 
Ashton's  daughter.  I  never  saw  the  young  lady  but  for  a  few 
minutes  to-day  ;  so,  being  a  stranger  to  her  personal  merits,  I 
pay  a  compliment  to  you,  and  offer  her  no  offence,  in  saying 
you  might  do  better." 

"My  lord,  I  am  much  indebted  for  the  interest  you  have 
taken  in  my  affairs,"  said  Ravenswood.  "  I  did  not  intend 
to  have  troubled  you  in  any  matter  concerning  Miss  Ashton. 
As  my  engagement  with  that  young  lady  has  reached  your 
lordship,  I  can  only  say,  that  you  must  necessarily  suppose 
that  I  was  aware  of  the  objections  to  my  marrying  into  her 
father's  family,  and  of  course  must  have  been  completely  sat- 
isfied with  the  reasons  by  which  these  objections  are  over- 
balanced, since  I  have  proceeded  so  far  in  the  matter," 

''  Nay,  Master,  if  you  had  heard  me  out,"  said  his  noble 
relation,  ''you  might  have  spared  that  observation  ;  for,  with- 
out questioning  that  you  had  reasons  Avhich  seemed  to  you  to 
counterbalance  every  other  obstacle,  I  set  myself,  by  every 
means  that  it  became  me  to  use  towards  the  Ashtons,  to  per- 
suade them  to  meet  your  views." 

"  I  am  obliged  to  your  lordship  for  your  unsolicited  inter- 
cession," said  Ravenswood;  "especially  as  I  am  sure  your 
lordship  would  never  carry  it  beyond  the  bounds  which  it  be- 
came me  to  use." 

"  Of  that,"  said  the  Marquis,  "you  may  be  confident ;  I 
myself  felt  the  delicacy  of  the  matter  too  much  to  place  a  gen- 


TH^  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  233 

tleman  nearly  connected  with  my  house  in  a  degrading  or 
dubious  situation  with  these  Ashtons,  But  I  pointed  out  all 
the  advantages  of  their  marrying  tlieir  daughter  into  a  house 
so  honorable,  and  so  nearly  related  with  the  hrst  in  Scotland  ; 
I  explained  the  exact  degree  of  relationship  in  which  the  Ra- 
venswoods  stand  to  ourselves;  and  I  even  hinted  how  political 
matters  were  like  to  tu;n,  and  what  cards  would  bo  trumps 
next  Parliament.  I  said  I  regarded  you  as  a  son — or  a  nephew, 
or  so — rather  than  as  a  more  distant  relation  ;  and  that  I 
made  your  affair  entirely  my  own." 

"And  what  was  the  issue  of  your  lordship's  explana- 
tion ?"  siid  Ravenswood,  in  some  doubt  whether  he  should 
resent  or  express  gratitude  for  his  interference. 

"  Why,  the  Lord  Keeioer  would  have  listened  to  reason," 
said  the  Marquis  ;  "he  is  rather  unwilling  to  leave  his  place, 
which,  in  the  present  view  of  a  change,  must  be  vacated  ;  and, 
to  say  truth,  he  seemed  to  have  a  liking  for  you,  and  to  be 
sensible  of  the  general  advantages  to  be  attained  by  such  a 
match.  But  his  lady,  who  is  tongue  of  the  trump,  Mas- 
ter  " 

"  What  of  Lady  Ash  ton,  my  lord  ?"  said  Ravenswood  ; 
"  let  me  know  the  issue  of  this  extraordinary  conference  :  I  can 
bear  it." 

"1  am  glad  of  that,  kinsman,"  said  the  Marquis,  "for  I  am 
ashamed  to  tell  you  half  what  she  said.  It  is  enough — her 
mind  is  made  up,  and  the  mistress  of  a  first-rate  boarding- 
school  could  not  have  rejected  with  more  haughty  indiffer- 
ence the  suit  of  a  half-pay  Irish  officer,  beseeching  permission 
to  wait  upon  the  heiress  of  a  West  India  23lanter,  than  Lady 
Ashton  spurned  every  proposal  of  mediation  which  it  could 
at  all  become  me  to  offer  in  behalf  of  you,  my  good  kinsman. 
I  cannot  guess  what  she  means.  A  more  honorable  connection 
she  could  not  form,  that's  certain.  As  for  money  and  land, 
that  used  to  be  her  husband's  business  rather  than  hers ;  I 
really  think  she  hates  you  for  having  the  rank  which  her 
husband  has  not,  and  perhaps  for  not  having  the  lands  that 
her  goodman  has.  But  I  should  only  vex  you  to  say  more 
about  it — here  we  are  at  the  change-house." 

The  Master  of  Ravenswood  paused  as  he  entered  the  cot- 
tage, which  reeked  through  all  its  crevices,  and  they  were  not 
few,  from  the  exertions  of  the  Marquis's  travelling-cooks  to 
supply  good  cheer,  and  spread,  as  it  were,  a  table  m  the  wil- 
derness. 

"  My  Lord  Marquis,"  said  Ravenswood,  "I  already  men- 
tioned that  accident  has  put  your  lordship  in  possession  of  a 


230  WAVERLEV  NOVELS 

secret  which,  with  my  consent,  should  have  remained  one  even 
to  you,  my  kinsman,  for  some  time.  Since  the  secret  was  to 
part  from  my  own  custody,  and  that  of  the  only  jDerson  be- 
sides who  was  interested  in  it,  I  am  not  sorry  it  should  have 
reached  your  lordship's  ears,  as  being  fully  aware  that  you 
are  my  noble  kinsman  and  friend." 

"You  may  believe  it  is  safely  lodged  with  me.  Master  of 
Ravenswood,"  said  the  Marquis;  "but  I  should  like  well  to 
hear  you  say  that  you  renounced  the  idea  of  an  alliance  which 
you  can  hardly  pursue  without  a  certain  degree  of  degrada- 
tion." 

"  Of  that,  my  lord,  I  shall  judge,"  answered  Ravenswood, 
"and  I  hope  with  delicacy  as  sensitive  as  any  of  my  friends. 
But  I  have  no  engagement  with  Sir  William  and  Lady  Ashton. 
It  is  with  Miss  Ashton  alone  that  I  have  entered  upon  the 
subject,  and  my  conduct  in  the  matter  shall  be  entirely  ruled 
by  hers.  If  she  continues  to  prefer  me  in  my  poverty  to  the 
wealthier  suitors  whom  her  friends  recommend,  I  may  well 
make  some  sacrifice  to  her  sincere  affection :  I  may  well 
surrender  to  her  the  less  tangible  and  less  palpable  advantages 
of  birth,  and  the  deep-rooted  prejudices  of  family  hatred. 
If  Miss  Lucy  Ashton  should  change  her  mind  on  a  subject  of 
such  delicacy,  I  trust  my  friends  will  be  silent  on  my  disap- 
pointment, and  I  shall  know  how  to  make  my  enemies  so." 

"  Spoke  like  a  gallant  young  nobleman,"  said  the  Mar- 
quis ;  "for  my  part,  I  have  that  regard  for  you,  that  I  should 
be  sorry  the  thing  went  on.  This  Sir  William  Ashton  was  a 
pretty  enough  pettifogging  kind  of  a  lawyer  twenty  years  ago, 
and  betwixt  battling  at  the  bar  and  leading  in  committees  of 
Parliament  he  has  got  well  on  ;  the  Darien  matter  lent  him  a 
lift,  for  he  had  good  intelligence  and  sound  views,  and  sold 
out  in  time  ;  but  the  best  work  is  had  out  of  him.  No  gov- 
ernment will  take  him  at  his  own,  or  rather  his  wife's  extrava- 
gant, valuation  ;  and  betwixt  his  indecision  and  her  insolence, 
from  all  I  can  guess,  he  will  outsit  his  market,  and  be  had 
cheap  when  no  one  will  bid  for  him.  I  say  nothing  of  Miss 
Ashton ;  but  I  assure  you,  a  connection  with  her  father  will 
be  neither  useful  nor  ornamental,  beyond  that  part  of  your 
father's  spoils  which  he  may  be  prevailed  upon  to  disgorge 
by  way  of  tocher-good  ;  and  take  my  word  for  it,  you  will 
get  more  if  you  have  spirit  to  bell  the  cat  with  him  in  the 
House  of  Peers.  And  I  will  be  the  man,  cousin,"  continued 
his  lordship,  "will  course  the  fox  for  you,  and  make  him 
rue  the  day  that  ever  he  refused  a  composition  too  honorable 
for  him,  and  proposed  by  me  on  the  behalf  of  a  kinsman." 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  im 

There  was  something  in  all  this  that,  as  it  were,  overshot 
the  mark.  Ravenswood  could  not  disguise  from  himself  that 
his  noble  kinsman  had  more  reasons  for  taking  offence  at  the 
reception  of  his  suit  than  regarded  his  interest  and  honor, 
yet  he  could  neither  complain  nor  be  surprised  that  it  should 
be  so.  He  contented  himself,  therefore,  with  repeating  that 
his  attachment  was  to  Miss  Ashton  personally  ;  that  he  desired 
neither  wealth  nor  aggrandizement  from  her  father's  means 
and  influence  ;  and  that  nothing  should  prevent  his  keeping 
his  engagement,  excepting  her  own  express  desire  that  it 
should  be  relinquished  ;  and  he  requested  as  a  favor  that  the 
matter  might  be  no  more  mentioned  betwixt  them  at  present, 

assuring  the  Marquis  of  A that  he  should  be  his  confidant 

in  its  progress  or  its  interruption. 

The  Marquis  soon  had  more  agreeable,  as  well  as  more  in- 
teresting, subjects  on  which  to  converse.  A  foot-post,  who 
had  followed  him  from  Edinburgh  to  Ravenswood  Castle, 
and  had  traced  his  steps  to  the  Tod's  Hole,  brought  him  a 
packet  laden  with  good  news.  The  political  calculations  of  the 
Marquis  had  proved  just,  both  in  London  and  at  Edinburgh, 
and  he  saw  almost  within  his  grasp  the  pre-eminence  for 
which  he  had  panted.  The  refreshments  which  the  servants 
had  prepared  were  now  put  on  the  table,  and  an  epicure 
would  perhaps  have  enjoyed  them  with  additional  zest  from 
the  contrast  which  such  fare  afforded  to  the  miserable  cabin 
in  which  it  was  served  up. 

The  turn  of  conversation  corresponded  with  and  added  to 
the  social  feelings  of  the  company.  The  Marquis  expanded 
with  pleasure  on  the  power  which  probable  incidents  were 
likely  to  assign  to  him,  and  on  tlie  use  which  he  hoped  to 
make  of  it  in  serving  his  kinsman  Ravenswood.  Ravenswood 
could  but  repeat  the  gratitude  which  he  really  felt,  even  when 
he  considered  the  topic  as  too  long  dwelt  upon.  The  wine 
was  excellent,  notwithstanding  its  having  been  brought  in  a 
runlet  from  Edinb^^rgh  ;  and  the  hal)its  of  the  Marquis,  when 
engaged  with  such  good  cheer,  were  somewhat  sedentary. 
And  so  it  fell  out  that  they  delayed  their  journey  two  hours 
later  than  was  their  original  purpose. 

"  But  what  of  that,  my  good  young  friend  ?  "  said  the  Mar- 
quis. "Your  Castle  of  Wolf's  Crag  is  but  at  five  or  six  miles' 
distance,  and  will  afford  the  same  hospitality  to  your  kinsman 

of  A that  it  gave  to  this  same  Sir  William  Ashton." 

"  Sir  William  took  the  castle  by  storm,"  said  Ravens- 
wood, ' '  and,  like  many  a  victor,  had  little  reason  to  congratu- 
late himself  on  his  conquest." 


S32  \VAV±Ji{L,JiJy  i\uv£jL.fi 

"  Well — well  \"  said  Lord  A ,  whose  dignity  was  some- 
thing relaxed  by  the  wiue  he  had  drunk,  '- 1  see  I  must  bribe 
you  to  harbor  me.  Come,  pledge  me  in  a  bumper  health  to 
the  last  young  lady  that  slept  at  Wolf's  Crag,  and  liked  her 
quarters.  My  bones  are  not  so  tender  as  hers,  and  I  am  re- 
solved to  occupy  her  apartment  to-night,  that  I  may  judge 
how  hard  the  couch  is  that  love  can  soften." 

"^  Your  lordship  may  choose  what  penance  you  please,'' 
said  Eavenswood  ;  "  but  I  assure  you,  I  should  expect  my  old 
servant  to  hang  himself,  or  throw  himself  from  the  battle- 
ments, should  your  lordship  visit  him  so  unexpectedly.  I  do 
assure  you,  we  are  totally  and  literally  unprovided." 

But  his  declaration  only  brought  from  his  noble  patron  an 
assurance  of  his  own  total  indifference  as  to  every  species  of 
accommodation,  and  his  determination  to  see  the  Tower  of 
Wolf's  Crag.  His  ancestor,  he  said,  had  been  feasted  there, 
when  he  went  forward  with  the  then  Lord  Eavenswood  to  the 
fatal  battle  of  Flodden,  in  which  they  both  fell.  Thus  hard 
pressed,  the  Master  offered  to  ride  forward  to  get  matters  put 
in  such  preparation  as  time  and  circumstances  admitted  ;  but 
the  Marquis  protested  his  kinsman  must  afford  him  his  com- 
pany, and  would  only  consent  that  an  avant-courier  should 
carry  to  the  destined  seneschal,  Caleb  Balderstone,  the  ujiex- 
pected  news  of  this  invasion. 

The  Master  of  Eavenswood  soon  after  accompanied  the 
Marquis  in  his  carriage,  as  the  latter  had  proposed ;  and  when 
they  became  better  acquainted  in  the  progress  of  the  journey, 
his  noble  relation  explained  the  very  liberal  views  which  he 
entertained  for  his  relation's  preferment,  in  case  of  the  success 
of  his  own  political  schemes.  They  related  to  a  secret  and 
highly  important  commission  beyond  sea,  which  could  only 
be  intrusted  to  a  person  of  rank,  talent,  and  perfect  confidence, 
and  which,  as  it  required  great  trust  and  reliance  on  the 
envoy  employed,  could  not  but  prove  both  honorable  and 
advantageous  to  him.  We  need  not  enter  into  the  nature 
and  purpose  of  this  commission,  farther  than  to  acquaint  our 
readers  that  the  charge  was  in  prospect  higlily  acceptable  to 
the  Master  of  Eavenswood,  who  hailed  with  pleasure  the  hope 
of  emerging  from  his  present  state  of  indigence  and  inaction 
into  independence  and  honorable  exertion. 

While  he  listened  thus  eagerly  to  the  details  with  which 
the  Marquis  now  thought  it  necessary  to  intrust  him,  the 
messenger  who  had  been  dispatched  to  the  Tower  of  Wolf's 
Crag  returned  with  Caleb  Balderstone's  humble  duty,  and  an 
assurance  that   "a'  should  be  in   seemly  order,   sic  as  the 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  233 

hurry  of  time  permitted,  to  receive  their  lordships  as  it  be- 
hoved." 

Ravenswood  was  too  well  accustomed  to  his  senesclial's 
mode  of  acting  and  speaking  to  hope  much  from  this  confi- 
dent assurance.  He  knew  that  Caleb  acted  upon  the  princi- 
ple of  the  Spanisli  generals,  in  the  campaign  of ,  who, 

much  to  the  perplexity  of  the  Prince  of  Orange,  their  com- 
mander-in-chief, used  to  report  their  troops  as  full  in  num- 
ber, and  possessed  of  all  necessary  points  of  equipment,  not 
considering  it  consistent  with  their  dignity,  or  the  honor  of 
Spain,  to  confess  any  deficiency  either  in  men  or  munition, 
until  the  want  of  both  was  unavoidably  discovered  in  the  day 
of  battle.  Accordingly,  Ravenswood  thought  it  necessary  to 
give  the  Marquis  some  hint  that  the  fair  assurance  which 
they  had  just  received  from  Caleb  did  not  by  any  means  insure 
them  against  a  very  indifferent  reception. 

'"You  do  yourself  injustice.  Master,"  said  the  Marquis, 
''or  you  wish  to  surprise  me  agreeably.  From  this  window 
I  see  a  great  light  in  the  direction  where,  if  I  remember 
aright.  Wolf's  Ci-ag  lies ;  and,  to  judge  from  the  splendor 
which  the  old  Tuwer  sheds  around  it,  the  preparations  for 
our  reception  must  be  of  no  ordinary  description.  I  remem- 
ber your  father  putting  tiie  same  deception  on  me,  Avlien  Ave 
went  to  the  Tower  for  a  few  days'  hawking,  about  twent}^ 
years  since,  and  yet  we  spent  our  time  as  jollily  at  Wolf's 
Crag  as  we  could  have  done  at  my  own  hunting  seat  at 
B ." 

"Your  lordship,  I  fear,  will  experience  that  the  faculty 
of  the  present  proprietor  to  entertain  his  friends  is  greatly 
abridged,"  said  Ravenswood;  "the  will,  I  need  hardly  say, 
remains  the  same.  But  I  am  as  much  at  a  loss  as  your  lord- 
ship to  account  for  so  strong  and  brilliant  a  light  as  is  now 
above  Wolf's  Crag ;  the  windows  of  the  Tower  are  few  and 
narrow,  and  those  of  the  lower  story  are  hidden  from  us  by 
the  walls  of  the  court.  I  cannot  conceive  that  any  illumina- 
tion of  an  ordinary  nature  could  afford  such  a  blaze  of  light." 

The  mystery  was  soon  explained  ;  for  the  cavalcade  almost 
instantly  halted,  and  the  voice  of  Caleb  Baldorstone  was 
heard  at  the  coach  window,  exclaiming,  in  accents  broken  by 
grief  and  fear,  "  Ocli,  gentlemen  !  Och,  my  gude  lords  ! 
Och,  baud  to  the  right !  Wolf's  Crag  is  burning,  bower  and 
ha' — a'  the  rich  plenishing  outside  and  inside — a'  the  fine 
graith,  pictures,  tapestries,  needle-wark,  hangings,  and  other 
decorements — a'  in  a  bleeze,  as  if  they  were  nae  mair  than  sae 
mony  peats,  or  as  muckle  pea-strae  !      Haud  to  the  right, 


234  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

gentlemen,  I  implore  ye  ;  there  is  some  sma'  provision  making 
at  Luckie  Sma' trash's  ;  but  0,  wae  for  this  night,  and  wae 
for  me  that  lives  to  see  it ! '' 

Ravenswood  was  at  first  stunned  by  this  new  and  unex- 
pected calamity  ;  but  after  a  moment's  recollection  he  sprang 
from  the  carriage,  and  hastily  bidding  his  noble  kinsman 
good-night,  was  about  to  ascend  the  hill  towards  the  castle, 
the  broad  and  full  conflagration  of  which  now  flung  forth  a 
high  column  of  red  light,  that  flickered  far  to  seaward  upon 
the  dashing  waves  of  the  ocean. 

"Take  a  horse.  Master,"  exlaimed  the  Marquis,  greatly 
aft'ected  by  this  additional  misfortune,  so  unexpectedly  heaped 
upon  his  young  protege ;  "and  give  me  my  ambling  pal- 
frey ;  and  haste  forward,  you  knaves,  to  see  what  can  be  done 
to  save  the  furniture,  or  to  extinguish  the  fire — ride,  you 
knaves,  for  your  lives  ! " 

The  attendants  bustled  together,  and  began  to  strike  their 
horses  with  the  spur,  and  call  upon  Caleb  to  show  them  the 
road.  But  the  voice  of  that  careful  seneschal  was  heard 
above  the  tumult,  "  0,  stop — sirs,  stop — turn  bridle,  for  the 
luve  of  Mercy  ;  add  not  loss  of  lives  to  the  loss  of  warld's 
gear  !  Thirty  barrels  of  powther,  landed  out  of  a  Dunkirk 
dogger  in  the  auld  lord's  time — a'  in  the  vau'ts  of  the  anld 
tower, — the  fire  canna  be  far  aff  it,  I  trow.  Lord's  sake,  to 
the  right,  lads — to  the  right ;  let's  pit  the  hill  atween  us  and 
peril, — a  wap  wi'  a  corner-stane  o'  Wolf's  Crag  wad  defy  the 
doctor!" 

It  will  readily  be  supposed  that  this  annunciation  hurried 
the  Marquis  and  his  attendants  into  the  route  which  Caleb 
prescribed,  dragging  Ravenswood  along  with  them,  although 
there  was  much  in  the  matter  which  he  could  not  possibly 
comprehend.  "  Gunpowder  ! "  he  exclaimed,  laying  hold  of 
Caleb,  who  in  vain  endeavored  to  escape  from  him,  "what 
gunpowder  ?  How  any  quantity  of  powder  could  be  in 
Wolf's  Crag  without  my  knowledge,  I  cannot  possibly  com- 
prehend." 

"  But  I  can,"  interrupted  the  Marquis,  whispering  him, 
"  I  can  comprehend  it  thoroughly  ;  for  God's  sake,  ask  him 
no  more  questions  at  present. " 

"  There  it  is,  now,"  said  Caleb,  extricating  himself  from 
his  master, and  adjusting  his  dress,  "your  honor  will  believe 
his  lordship's  honorable  testimony.  His  lordship  minds  weel 
how,  in  the  year  that  him  they  ca'd  King  Willie  died " 

"Hush  !  hush,  my  good  friend  !  "  said  the  Marquis  ;  "  I 
shall  satisfy  your  master  upon  that  subject." 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  235 

''  And  the  people  at  Wolf's  Hope,"  said  Riivenswood, 
^'  did  none  of  them  come  to  your  assistance  before  the  ilanie 
got  so  high  ?  " 

''  Ay  did  they,  inony  ane  of  them,  the  rapscallions  !  "  said 
Caleb  ;"••  bat  truly  I  was  in  nae  hurry  to  let  theru  into  the 
Tower,  where  there  were  so  much  plate  and  valuables." 

•'  Confound  you  for  an  impudent  liar ! "  said  Ravenswood, 
in  uncontrollable  ire,  "  there  was  not  a  single  ounce  of " 

"  I^'orbye,"  said  the  butler,  most  irreverently  raising  his 
voice  to  a  pitch  which  drowned  his  master's,  "  the  fire  made 
fast  on  us,  owing  to  the  store  of  tapestry  and  carved  timmer 
in  the  banqueting-ha',  and  the  loons  ran  like  scauded  rats  sae 
sune  as  they  heard  of  the  gunpouther." 

"I  do  entreat,"  said  the  Marquis  to  Ravenswood,  "you 
will  ask  him  no  more  questions." 

"  Only  one,  my  lord.     What  has  become  of  poor  Mysie  ?" 

"'  Mysie  !  "  said  Caleb,  "  I  had  nae  time  to  look  about  ony 
Mysie ;  she's  in  the  Tower,  I'se  warrant,  biding  her  awful 
doom." 

"  By  heaven,"  said  Ravenswood,  ''I  do  not  understand 
all  this  !  The  life  of  a  faithful  old  creature  is  at  stake  ;  my 
lord,  I  will  be  withheld  no  longer  ;  I  will  at  least  ride  up, 
and  see  whether  the  danger  is  as  imminent  as  this  old  fool 
pretends." 

"  Weel,  then,  as  I  live  by  bread,"  said  Caleb,  "Mysie  is 
weel  and  safe.  I  saw  her  out  of  the  castle  before  I  left  it 
inysell.     Was  I  ganging  to  forget  an  auld  fellow-servant  ?  " 

"What  made  you  tell  me  the  contrary  this  moment?" 
said  his  master. 

"Did  I  tell  you  the  contrary?"  said  Caleb;  "then  i 
maun  hae  been  dreaming  surely,  or  this  awsome  night  has 
turned  my  judgment ;  but  safe  she  is,  and  ne'er  a  living  soul 
in  the  castle,  a'  the  better  for  them  :  they  wad  have  gotten  an 
unco  heezy." 

The  Master  of  Ravenswood,  upon  this  assurance  being 
solemnly  reiterated,  and  notwithstanding  his  extreme  wish 
to  witness  the  last  explosion,  which  was  to  ruin  to  the  ground 
the  mansion  of  his  fathers,  suffered  himself  to  be  dragged  on- 
ward towards  the  village  of  Wolf's  Hope,  where  not  only  the 
change-house,  but  that  of  our  well-known  friend  the  cooper, 
were  all  prepared  for  reception  of  himself  and  his  noble 
guest,  with  a  liberality  of  provision  which  requires  some 
explanation. 

We  omitted  to  mention  in  its  {)lace,  that  Tiockhard  hav- 
ing fished  out  the  truth  concerning  the  mode  by  which  Caleb 


236  WAVEBLEY  NOVELS 

had  obtained  the  supplies  for  liis  banquet,  tlie  Lord  Keeper, 
amused  with  the  incident,  and  desirous  at  the  time  to  gratify 
Eavenswood,  had  recommended  the  cooper  of  Wolf's  Hope  to 
the  official  situation  under  government,  the  prosjDect  of  which 
had  reconciled  him  to  the  loss  of  his  wild-fowl.  Mr.  Girder's 
preferment  had  occasioned  a  pleasing  surprise  to  old  Caleb  ; 
for  when,  some  days  after  his  master's  departure,  he  found 
himself  absolutely  compelled,  by  some  necessary  business,  to 
visit  the  fishing  hamlet,  and  was  gliding  like  a  ghost  past  the 
door  of  the  cooper,  for  fear  of  being  summoned  to  give  some 
account  of  the  progress  of  the  solicitation  in  his  favor,  or, 
more  probably,  that  the  inmates  might  upbraid  him  with  the 
false  hope  he  had  held  out  upon  the  subject,  he  heard  him- 
self, not  without  some  apprehension,  summoned  at  once  in 
treble,  tenor,  and  bass — a  trio  performed  by  the  voices  of 
Mrs.  Girder,  old  Dame  Loup-the-Dyke,  and  the  goodman  of 
the  dwelling—''  Mr.  Caleb  !— Mr.  Caleb  !— Mr.  Caleb  Balder- 
stone  !  I  hope  ye  arena  ganging  dry-lipped  by  our  door,  and 
we  sae  muckle  indebted  to  you  ?  "' 

This  might  be  said  ironically  as  well  as  in  earnest.  Caleb 
augured  the  worst,  turned  a  deaf  ear  to  the  trio  aforesaid,  and 
was  moving  doggedly  on,  his  ancient  castor  pulled  over  his 
brows,  and  his  eyes  bent  on  the  ground,  as  if  to  count  the 
flinty  pebbles  with  which  the  rude  pathway  was  causew^ayed. 
But  on  a  sudden  he  found  himself  surrounded  in  his  progress, 
like  a  stately  merchantman  in  the  Gut  of  Gibraltar  (I  hope 
the  ladies  will  excuse  the  tarpaulin  phrase)  by  three  Algerine 
galleys. 

"  Gude  guide  us,  Mr,  Balderstone  ! "  said  Mrs.  Girder. 

"Wha  wad  hae  thought  it  of  an  auld  and  kenned 
friend  !  "  said  the  mother. 

"And  no  sae  muckle  as  stay  to  receive  our  thanks,"  said 
the  cooper  himself,  "and  frae  the  like  o' me  that  seldom 
offers  them  !  I  am  sure  I  hope  there's  nae  ill  seed  sawn  be- 
tween us,  Mr.  Balderstone.  Ony  man  that  has  said  to  ye  I 
am  no  gratef u'  for  the  situation  of  Queen's  cooper,  let  me 
hae  a  whample  at  him  wi'  mine  eatche,  that's  a'." 

''  My  good  friends — my  dear  friends,"  said  Caleb,  still 
doubting  how  the  certainty  of  the  matter  might  stand, 
"what  needs  a'  this  ceremony?  Ane  tries  to  serve  their 
friends,  and  sometimes  they  may  happen  to  prosper,  and 
sometimes  to  misgie.  Naething  1  care  to  be  fashed  wi'  less 
than  thanks  ;  I  never  could  bide  them." 

"Faith,  Mr.  Balderstone,  ye  suld  hae  been  fashed  wi' 
few  o'  mine,"  said  the  downright  man  of  staves  and  hoops,  "if 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  287 

I  had  only  your  gude-will  to  thaiik  ye  ior  :  I  suld  e'en  hae  set 
the  guse,  and  the  wikl  deukes,  and  the  runlet  of  sack  to  bal- 
ance that  account,  (iude-wiil,  man,  is  a  geizened  tub,  that 
hands  in  nae  liquor  ;  but  gude  deed's  like  tlie  cask,  tight, 
round,  and  sound,  that  will  baud  liquor  for  the  king." 

"  Have  ye  no  heard  of  our  letter,"'  said  the  mother-in- 
law,  *'  making  our  John  [Gibbie]  the  Queen's  cooper  for 
certain  ?  and  scarce  a  chield  that  had  ever  hammered  gird 
upon  tub  but  was  applying  for  it  ?  " 

"Have  I  heard!  !  !  "  said  Caleb,  who  now  found  how 
the  wind  set,  with  an  accent  of  exceeding  contempt  at  the 
doubt  expressed — "  have  I  heard,  quoth  she  !  !  ! "  and  as  he 
spoke  he  changed  his  shambling,  skulking,  dodging  pace 
into  a  manly  and  authoritative  step,  readjusted  his  cocked  hat, 
and  suffered  his  brow  to  emerge  from  under  it  in  all  the  pride 
of  aristocracy,  like  the  sun  from  behind  a  cloud. 

''  To  be  sure,  he  canna  but  hae  heard,"  said  the  good 
woman. 

"  Ay,  to  be  sure,  it's  impossible  but  I  should,"  said  Caleb  ; 
"  and  sae  I'll  be  the  first  to  kiss  ye,  joe,  and  wish  you,  cooper, 
much  joy  of  your  preferment,  naething  doubting  but  ye  ken 
wha  are  your  friends,  and  have  helped  ye,  and  can  help  ye. 
I  thought  it  right  to  look  a  wee  strange  upon  it  at  first," 
added  Caleb,  "just  to  see  if  ye  were  made  of  the  right 
mettle  ;  but  ye  ring  true,  lad — ye  ring  true  ! " 

So  saying,  with  a  most  lordly  air  he  kissed  tlie  women, 
and  abandoned  his  hand,  with  an  air  of  serene  patronage,  to 
the  hearty  shake  of  Mr.  Girder's  horn-hard  palm.  Upon  this 
complete,  and  to  Caleb  most  satisfactory,  information  he  did 
not,  it  may  readily  be  believed,  hesitate  to  accept  an  invita- 
tion to  a  solemn  feast,  to  which  were  invited,  not  only  all  the 
notables  of  the  village,  but  even  his  ancient  antagonist,  Mr. 
Dingwall,  himself.  At  this  festivity  he  was,  of  course,  the 
most  welcome  and  most  honored  guest ;  and  so  well  did  he  ply 
the  company  with  stories  of  what  he  could  do  with  his  master, 
his  master  with  the  Lord  Keeper,  the  Lord  Keeper  with  the 
council,  and  the  council  with  the  king  [queen],  that  before 
the  company  dismissed  (which  was,  indeed,  rather  at  an  early 
hour  than  a  late  one),  every  man  of  note  in  the  village  was 
ascending  to  the  top-gallant  of  some  ideal  preferment  by  the 
ladder  of  ropes  which  Caleb  had  presented  to  their  imagina- 
tion. Nay,  the  cunning  butler  regained  in  that  moment  not 
only  all  the  influence  he  possessed  formerly  over  the  villagers, 
when  the  baronial  family  which  he  served  were  at  the  proud- 
est, but  acquired  even   an    accession  of    importance.     The 


238  W AVE  RLE  Y  NOVELS 

writer — tue  very  attorney  himself,  such  is  the  thirst  of  pre« 
fermeut — felt  the  force  of  the  attraction,  and  taking  an  op- 
portunity to  draw  Caleb  into  a  corner,  spoke,  with  aflfectionate 
regret,  of  the  declining  health  of  the  sheriff-clerk  of  the 
county. 

"An  excellent  man — a  most  valuable  man,  Mr.  Caleb; 
but  fat  sail  I  say  !  we  are  peer  feckless  bodies,  here  the  day 
and  awa'  by  cock-screech  the  morn ;  and  if  he  failyies,  there 
maun  be  somebody  in  his  place  ;  and  gif  that  ye  could  airt  it 
my  way,  I  sail  be  thankful,  man — a  gluve  stuffed  wi'  gowd 
nobles  ;  an'  hark  ye,  man,  something  canny  till  yoursell,  and 
the  Wolf's  Hope  carles  to  settle  kindly  wi'  the  Master  of  Ea- 
venswood — that  is.  Lord  Eavenswood — God  bless  his  lord- 
ship ! " 

A  smile,  and  a  hearty  squeeze  by  the  hand,  was  the  suitable 
answer  to  this  overture  ;  and  Caleb  made  his  escape  from  the 
jovial  party,  in  order  to  avoid  committing  himself  by  any 
special  promises. 

"The  Lord  be  gude  to  me,"  said  Caleb,  when  he  found 
himself  in  the  open  air,  and  at  liberty  to  give  vent  to  the 
self -exultation  with  which  he  was,  as  it  were,  distended ; 
"  did  ever  ony  man  see  sic  a  set  of  green-gaislings  ?  The 
very  pick-maws  and  solan-geese  out-bye  yonder  at  the  Bass 
hae  ten  times  their  sense  !  God,  an  I  had  been  the  Lord 
High  Commissioner  to  the  Estates  o'  Parliament,  they  couldna 
hae  betlummed  me  mair ;  and,  to  speak  Heaven's  truth,  I 
could  hardly  hae  beflummed  them  better  neither !  But  the 
writer — ha  !  ha  !  ha ! — ah,  ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  mercy  on  me,  that  I 
suld  live  in  my  auld  days  to  gie  the  gang-bye  to  the  very 
writer  !  Sheriff-clerk  !  ! !  But  I  hae  an  auld  account  to 
settle  wi'  the  carle ;  and  to  make  amends  for  bye-ganes,  the 
office  shall  just  cost  him  as  much  time-serving  and  tide-serv- 
ing as  if  he  were  to  get  it  in  gude  earnest,  of  whilk  there  is 
sma'  appearance,  unless  the  Master  learns  mair  the  ways  of 
this  warld,  whilk  it  is  muckle  to  be  doubted  that  he  never 
will  do." 


Ci^APTER  XXVI 

Why  flames  yon  far  summit — why  shoot  to  the  blast 
Those  embers,  like  stars  from  the  firmament  cast? 
'Tis  tlie  fire-sliower  of  ruin,  all  dreadfully  driven 
From  thine  eyrie,  that  beacons  the  darkness  of  Heaven. 

Campbell. 

The  circumstances  announced  in  the  conclusion  of  the  last 
chapter  will  account  for  the  ready  and  cheerful  reception  of 

the  Marquis  of  A and  the  Master  of  Ravenswood  in  the 

village  of  Wolf's  Hope.  In  fact,  Caleb  had  no  sooner  an- 
nounced the  conflagration  of  the  tower  than  the  whole  hamlet 
were  upon  foot  to  hasten  to  extinguish  the  flames.  And 
although  that  zealous  adherent  diverted  their  zeal  by  inti- 
mating the  formidable  contents  of  the  subterranean  apart- 
ments, yet  the  check  only  turned  their  assiduity  into  another 
direction.  Never  had  there  been.such  slaughtering  of  capons, 
and  fat  geese,  and  barn-door  fowls  ;  never  such  boiling  of 
"  reested  "  hams  ;  never  such  making  of  car-cakes  and  sweet 
scones,  Selkirk  bannocks,  cookies,  and  petticoat-tails — deli- 
cacies little  known  to  the  present  generation.  Never  had 
there  been  such  a  tapping  of  barrels,  and  such  uncorking  of 
graybeards,  in  the  village  of  Wolf's  Hope.  All  the  inferior 
houses  were  tlarown  open  for  the  reception  of  the  Marquis's 
dependants,  Avho  came,  it  was  thought,  as  precursors  of  the 
shower  of  preferment  which  hereafter  was  to  leave  the  rest 
of  Scotland  dry,  in  order  to  distil  its  rich  dews  on  the  village 
of  Wolf's  Hope  under  Lammermoor.  The  minister  put  in 
his  claim  to  have  the  guests  of  distinction  lodged  at  tha 
manse,  having  his  eye,  it  was  thought,  upon  a  neighboring 
preferment,  where  the  incumbent  was  sickly  ;  but  Mr.  Balder- 
stone  destined  tliat  honor  to  the  cooper,  his  wife,  and  wife's 
mother,  who  danced  for  joy  at  the  preference  thus  assigned 
them. 

Many  a  beck  and  many  a  bow  welcomed  these  noble  guests 
to  as  good  entertainment  as  persons  of  such  rank  coiild  set 
before  such  visitors ;  and  the  old  dame,  who  had  formerly 
lived  in  Ravenswood  Castle,  and  knew,  as  she  said,  the  ways 


240  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

of  the  nobility,  was  in  no  whit  wanting  in  arranging  matters, 
as  well  as  circumstances  permitted,  according  to  the  etiquette 
of  the  times.  Tlie  cooper's  house  was  so  roomy  that  each 
guest  had  his  separate  retiring-room,  to  which  they  were 
ushered  with  all  due  ceremony,  wliile  the  plentiful  supper 
was  in  the  act  of  being  placed  upon  the  table. 

Eaveuswood  no  sooner  found  himself  alone  than,  impelled 
by  a  thousand  feelings,  he  left  the  apartment,  the  house,  and. 
the  village,  and  hastily  retraced  his  steps  to  the  brow  of  the 
hill,  which  rose  betwixt  the  village  and  screened  it  from  the 
tower,  in  order  to  view  the  final  fall  of  the  house  of  his 
fathers.  Some  idle  boys  from  the  hamlet  had  taken  the  same 
direction  out  of  curiosity,  having  first  witnessed  tlie  arrival  of 
the  coach  and  six  and  its  attendants.  As  they  ran  one  by  one 
past  the  Master,  calling  to  each  other  to  "  Come  and  see  the 
auld  tower  blaw  up  in  the  lift  like  the  peelings  of  an  ingan," 
he  could  not  but  feel  himself  moved  with  indignation.  *' And 
these  are  the  sons  of  my  father's  vassals,"  he  said — "of  men 
bound,  both  by  law  and  gratitude,  to  f  olloAv  our  steps  through 
battle,  and  fire,  and  flood  ;  and  now  the  destruction  of  their 
liege  lord's  house  is  but  a  holiday's  sight  to  tbem  !" 

These  exasperating  reflections  were  partly  expressed  in  the 
acrimony  with  which  he  exclaimed,  on  feeling  himself  pulled 
by  the  cloak — "What  do  you  want,  you  dog  ?" 

"I  am  a  dog,  and  an  auld  dog  too," answered  Caleb,  for 
it  was  he  who  had  taken  the  freedom,  *'  and  I  am  like  to  get 
a  dog's  wages  ;  but  it  does  not  signification  a  pinch  of  sneesh- 
ing,  for  I  am  ower  auld  a  dog  to  learn  new  tricks,  or  to  fol- 
low a  new  master." 

As  he  spoke,  Ravenswood  attained  the  ridge  of  the  hill 
from  which  Wolfs  Crag  was  visible  ;  the  flames  had  entirely 
sunk  down,  and,  to  his  great  surprise,  there  was  only  a  dusky 
reddening  upon  the  clouds  immediately  over  the  castle,  which 
seemed  the  reflection  of  the  embers  of  the  sunken  fire. 

"  The  place  cannot  have  blown  up,"  said  the  Master  ;  "  we 
must  have  heard  the  report :  if  a  quarter  of  the  gunpowder 
was  there  you  tell  me  of,  it  would  have  been  heard  twenty 
miles  off." 

"  It's  very  like  it  wad,"  said  Balderstone,  composedly. 

"Tben  the  fire  cannot  have  reached  the  vaults  ?" 

"It's  like  no,"  answered  Caleb,  with  the  same  impenetra- 
ble gravity. 

"  Hark  ye,  Caleb,"  said  his  master,  "  this  grows  a  little 
too  much  for  my  patience.  I  must  go  and  examine  how 
matters  stand  at  Wolf's  Crag  myself." 


THE  BRIDE  OJi   LAMMERMOOR  241 

*^Your  honor   is  ganging   to   gang  uae   bio   gate/'  said 
Caleb,  firmly. 

''And  why  not?"  said  Ravenswood,  sharply ;" who  or 
what  shall  prevent  me  ?  " 

"Even  I  mysell,"  said  Caleb,  with  the  same  determina- 
tion. 

"  You,  Balderstone  !"  replied  the  Master  ;  ''you  are  for- 
getting yourself,  I  think." 

"  But  [  think  no,"  said  Balderstone  ;  "for  I  can  just  tell 
ye  a'  about  the  castle  on  this  knowe-head  as  weel  as  if  ye  were 
at  it.  Ouly  dinna  pit  yoursell  into  a  kippage,  and  expose 
yoursell  before  the  weans,  or  before  the  Marquis,  when  ye 
gang  down- bye." 

"  Speak  out,  you  old  fool,"  replied  his  master,  "  and  let 
me  know  the  best  and  the  worst  at  once." 

"  Ou,  the  best  and  the  warstis,  just  that  the  tower  is  stand- 
ing haill  and  feir,  as  safe  and  as  empty  as  when  ye  left  it." 

"Indeed  !  and  the  fire  ?"  said  Ravens  wood. 

"  Not  a  gleed  of  fire,  then,  except  the  bit  kindling  peat, 
and  maybe  a  spunk  in  Mysie's  cutty-pipe,"  replied  Caleb. 

'•But  the  flame?"  demanded  Ravenswood — "the  broad 
blaze  which  might  have  been  seen  ten  miles  off — what  occa- 
sioned that  ?  " 

"  Hout  awa' !  it's  an  auld  saying  and  a  true — 

'"  Little's  the  light 

Will  be  seen  far  in  a  mirk  night.' 

A  wheen  fern  and  horse  litter  that  I  fired  in  the  courtyard, 
after  sending  bact  the  loon  of  a  footman  ;  and,  to  speak 
Heaven's  truth,  the  next  time  that  ye  send  or  bring  onybody 
here,  let  them  be  gentles  allenarly,  without  ouy  fremd  ser- 
vants, like  that  chield  Lockhard,  to  I)e  gledging  and  gleeing 
about,  and  looking  upon  the  wrang  side  of  ane's  housekeep- 
ing, to  the  discredit  of  tlie  family,  and  forcing  ana  to  damn 
their  souls  wi'  telling  ae  lee  after  another  faster  than  I  can 
count  them  :  I  wad  rather  set  fire  to  the  tower  in  gude  ear- 
nest, and  burn  it  ower  my  ain  head  into  the  bargain,  or  I  see 
the  family  dishonored  in  the  sort." 

"Upon  my  word.  I  am  infinitely  obliged  by  the  proposal, 
Caleb,"  said  his  master,  scarce  able  to  restrain  his  laughter, 
though  rather  angry  at  the  same  time.  "  But  the  gunpowder 
— is  there  such  a  thing  in  the  tower  ?  The  Marquis  seemed 
^  know  of  it." 

"The  pouther,  ha  I  ha  !  ha  ! — the  Marquis,  ha !  ha  !  ha  ! " 


843  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

replied  Caleb, — "  if  your  honor  were  to  brain  me,  I  behooved 
to  laugh, — the  Marquis — the  pouther  !  Was  it  there  ?  Ay, 
it  was  there.  Did  he  ken  o't  ?  My  certie  !  the  Marquis 
kenned  o't,  and  it  was  tlie  best  o'  the  game  ;  for,  when  I 
couldna  pacify  your  honor  wi'  a,'  that  I  could  say,  I  aye  threw 
out  a  word  mair  about  the  gunpouther,  and  garred  the  Mar- 
quis tak  the  job  in  hisain  hand." 

"  But  you  have  not  answered  my  question,"  said  the  Mas- 
ter, impatiently  ;  "how  came  the  powder  there,  and  where  is 
it  now  ?" 

"  Ou,  it  came  there,  an  ye  maun  needs  ken,"  said  Caleb, 
looking  mysteriously,  and  whispering,  "  when  there  was  like 
to  be  a  wee  bit  rising  here  ;  and  the  Marquis,  and  a'  the  gveni 
lords  of  the  north,  were  a'  in  it,  and  mony  a  gudely  gun  and 
broadsword  were  ferried  ower  f rae  Dunkirk  f orbye  the  pouther. 
Awf u^  wark  we  had  getting  them  into  the  tower  under  cloud 
o' night,  for  ye  maun  think  it  wasna  everybody  could  be  trusted 
wi^  sic  kittle  jobs.  But  if  ye  will  gae  hame  to  your  supper, 
I  will  tell  you  a'  about  it  as  ye  gang  down." 

*'  And  these  wretched  boys,"  said  Eavenswood,  "  is  it  your 
pleasure  they  are  to  sit  there  all  night,  to  wait  for  the  blow- 
ing up  of  a  tower  that  is  not  even  on  fire  ?" 

"  Surely  not,  if  it  is  your  honor's  pleasure  that  they  suld 
gang  hame  ;  although,"  added  Caleb,  "  it  wadna  do  them  a 
grain's  damage  :  they  wad  screigh  less  the  next  day,  and  sleep 
the  sounder  at  e'en.     But  just  as  your  honor  likes." 

Stepping  accordingly  towards  the  urchins  who  manned  tJie 
knolls  near  which  they  stood,  Caleb  informed  them,  in  an 
authoritative  tone,  that  their  honors  Lord   Ravenswood  and 

the  Marquis  of  A had  given  orders  that  the  tower  was  not 

to  blow  up  till  next  day  at  noon.  The  boys  dispersed  upon 
this  comfortable  assurance.  One  or  two,  however,  followed 
Caleb  for  more  information,  particularly  the  urchin  whom  he 
had  cheated  while  officiating  as  turnspit,  who  screamed, 
"Mr.  Balderstone  ! — Mr.  Balderstone!  then  the  castle's  gane 
out  like  an  auld  wife's  spunk  ?  "  ■ 

"  To  be  sure  it  is,  callant,"  said  the  butler  ;  '^  do  ye  think 
the  castle  of  as  great  a  lord  as  Lord  Eavenswood  wad  continue 
in  a  bleeze,  and  him  standing  looking  on  wi'  his  ain  very  een  ? 
It's  aye  right,"  continued  Caleb,  shaking  off  his  ragged  page, 
and  closing  in  to  his  master,  "  to  train  up  weans,  as  the  wise 
man  says,  in  the  way  they  should  go,  and,  aboon  a',  to  teach 
them  respect  to  their  superiors." 

"  But  all  this  while,  Caleb,  you  have  never  told  me  what 
became  of  the  arms  and  powder,"  said  Ravenswood. 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAM3IERM00R  243 

"  Why,  as  for  tlie  arms,"  said  Caleb,  "  it  was  just  like  the 
bairns*  rhyme — 

"  '  Some  gaed  east  and  some  gaed  west. 
And  some  gaed  to  the  craws  nest.' 

And  for  the  pouther,  I  e'en  changed  it,  as  occasion  served, 
with  the  skippers  o'  Dutch  luggers  and  French  vessels,  for 
gin  and  brandy,  and  it  served  the  house  mony  a  year — agude 
swap  too,  between  what  cheereth  the  soul  of  man  and  that 
which  dingeth  it  clean  out  of  his  body  ;  forbye,  I  keepit  a 
wheen  pounds  of  it  for  yoursell  when  ye  wanted  to  take  the 
pleasure  o'  shooting :  whiles,  in  these  latter  days,  I  wad 
hardly  hae  kenned  else  whar  to  get  pouther  for  your  pleasure. 
And  now  that  your  anger  is  ower,  sir,  wasna  that  weel  man- 
aged o'  me,  and  arena  ye  far  better  sorted  doun  yonder  than 
ye  could  hae  been  in  your  ain  auld  ruins  up-bye  yonder,  as 
the  case  stands  wi'  us  now  ?  the  mair's  the  pity  I " 

''I  believe  you  may  be  right,  Caleb  ;  but,  before  burning 
down  my  castle,  either  in  jest  or  in  earnest,"  said  Eavens- 
wood,  *'I  think  I  had  a  right  to  be  in  the  secret." 

"Fie  for  shame,  your  honor  ! "  replied  Caleb  ;  "it  fits  an 
auld  carle  like  me  weel  enough  to  tell  lees  for  the  credit  of 
tbe  family,  but  it  wadna  beseem  the  like  o'  your  honor's  sell ; 
besides,  young  folk  are  no  judicious  :  they  cannot  make  the 
maist  of  a  bit  figment.  Now  this  fire — for  a  fire  it  sail  be,  if 
I  suld  burn  the  auld  stable  to  make  it  mair  feasible — this 
fire,  besides  that  it  will  bean  excuse  for  asking  onything  we 
Avant  through  the  country,  or  doun  at  the  haven — this  fire 
will  settle  mony  things  on  an  honorable  footing  for  the  fam- 
ily's credit,  that  cost  me  telling  twenty  daily  lees  to  a  wheen 
idle  chaps  and  queens,  and,  what's  waur,  without  gaining 
credence." 

"  That  was  hard  indeed,  Caleb  ;  but  I  do  not  see  how  this 
fire  should  help  your  veracity  or  your  credit." 

"There  it  is  now!  "said  Caleb;  "wasna  I  saying  that 
young  folk  had  a  green  judgment  ?  How  suld  it  help  me, 
quotha  ?  It  will  be  a  creditable  apology  for  the  honor  of  the 
family  for  this  score  of  years  to  come,  if  it  is  weel  guided. 
MVhere's  the  family  pictures?'  says  ae  meddling  body. 
'  The  great  fire  at  Wolf's  Crag.'  answers  I.  '  Where's  the 
family  plate?'  says  another.  'The  great  fire,'  says  I; 
'wha  was  to  think  of  plate,  when  life  and  limb  were  in  dan- 
ger ?'  'Where's  the  wardrobe  and  the  linens  ? — where's  the 
tapestries  and  the  decorements  ? — beds  of  state,  twilts,  pands 
and   testors,  napery  and    broidered  wark  ?'     'The  fire — the 


244  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

fire — the  fire.'  Guide  the  fire  weel,  and  it  will  serve  ye  for 
a'  that  ye  suld  have  and  have  not ;  and,  in  some  sort,  a  gude 
excuse  is  better  than  the  things  themselves  ;  for  they  maun 
crack  and  wear  out,  and  be  consumed  by  time,  whereas  a 
gude  offcome,  prudently  and  creditably  handled,  may  serve  a 
nobleman  and  his  family,  Lord  kens  how  lang  ! " 

Ravenswood  was  too  well  acquainted  with  his  butler's  per- 
tinacity and  self-opinion  to  dispute  the  point  with  him  any 
f  irther.  Leaving  Caleb,  therefore,  to  the  enjoyment  of  his 
own  successful  ingenuity,  he  returned  to  the  hamlet,  where 
he  found  the  Marquis  and  the  good  women  of  the  mansion 
under  some  anxiety — the  former  on  account  of  his  absence, 
the  others  for  the  discredit  their  cookery  might  sustain  by 
the  delay  of  the  supper.  All  were  now  at  ease,  and  heard 
with  pleasure  that  the  fire  at  the  castle  had  burned  out  of  it- 
self without  reaching  the  vaults,  which  was  the  only  informa- 
tion that  Ravenswood  thought  it  proper  to  give  in  public 
concerning  the  event  of  his  butler's  stratagem. 

They  sat  down  to  an  excellent  supper.  No  invitation 
could  prevail  on  Mr,  and  Mrs.  Girder,  even  in  their  own  house, 
to  sit  down  at  table  with  guests  of  such  high  quality.  They 
remained  standing  in  the  apartment,  and  acted  the  part  of 
respectful  and  careful  attendants  on  the  company.  Such  were 
the  manners  of  the  time.  The  elder  dame,  confident  through 
her  age  and  connection  with  the  Ravenswood  family,  w;w  less 
scrupulously  ceremonious.  She  played  a  mixed  part  bstwixt 
that  of  the  hostess  of  an  inn  and  the  mistress  of  a  privatt 
house,  who  receives  guests  above  her  own  degree.  She  recora 
mended,  and  even  pressed,  what  she  thought  best,  and  was 
herself  easily  entreated  to  take  a  moderate  share  of  the  good 
cheer,  in  order  to  encourage  her  guests  by  her  own  example. 
Of  tea  she  interrupted  herself,  to  express  her  regret  that  "my 
lord  did  not  eat ;  that  the  Master  was  pyking  a  bare  bane  : 
that,  to  be  sure,  there  was  naething  there  fit  to  set  before 
their  honors ;  that  Lord  Allan,  rest  his  saul,  used  to  like  a 
pouthered  guse,  and  said  it  was  Latin  for  a  tass  o'  brandy  ; 
that  the  brandy  came  frae  France  direct ;  for,  for  a'  the  Eng- 
lish laws  and  gangers,  the  Wolf's  Hope  brigs  hadna  forgotten 
the  ^ite  to  Dunkirk." 

Here  the  cooper  admonished  his  mother-in-law  with  his 
elbow,  which  procured  him  the  following  special  notice  in  the 
progress  of  her  speech  : 

"Ye  needna  be  dunshin  that  gate,  John  [Gibbie],"  con 
tinned  the  old  lady;  "naebodysays  that  ye  ken  whar  the 
brandy  comes  frae  ;  and  it  wadna.  be  fitting  ye  should,  and  vou 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  246 

tlie  Queen's  cooper  ;  and  what  signifies't,"  continued  she, 
addressing  Lord  Ravensvvood,  "to  king,  queen,  or  kaiser 
whar  an  auld  wife  like  me  buys  her  pickle  sneeshin,  or  her 
drap  brandy-wine,  to  hand  her  heart  up  ?  " 

Having  thus  extricated  herself  from  her  supposed  false 
step.  Dame  Loup-the-Dyke  proceeded,  during  the  rest  of  the 
evening,  to  supply,  with  great  animation,  and  very  little  as- 
sistance from  her  guests,  the  funds  necessary  for  the  support 
of  the  conversation,  until,  declining  any  farther  circulation 
of  their  glass,  her  guests  requested  her  permission  to  retire  to 
cheir  apartments. 

The  Marquis  occupied  the  chamber  of  dais,  which,  in 
3very  house  above  the  rank  of  a  mere  cottage,  was  kept  sa- 
bred for  such  high  occasions  as  the  present.  The  modern 
finishing  with  plaster  was  then  unknown,  and  tapestry  was 
confined  to  the  houses  of  the  nobility  and  superior  gentry. 
The  cooper,  therefore,  who  vv'as  a  man  of  some  vanity,  as  well 
as  some  wealth,  had  imitated  tlie  fashion  observed  by  the  in- 
ferior landholders  and  clergy,  who  usually  ornamented  their 
•state  apartments  with  hangings  of  a  sort  of  stamped  leather, 
manufactured  in  the  Netherlands,  garnished  with  trees  and 
animals  executed  in  copper  foil,  and  with  many  a  pithy  sen- 
tence of  morality,  which,  although  couched  in  Low  Dutch, 
were  perhaps  as  much  attended  to  in  i^ractice  as  if  written  in 
broad  Scotch.  The  whole  had  somewhat  of  a  gloomy  aspect ; 
i)ut  the  fire,  composed  of  old  pitch -barrel  staves,  blazed  mer- 
rily up  the  chimney  ;  the  bed  was  decorated  with  linen  of 
aiosc  fresh  and  dazzling  whiteness,  which  had  never  before 
been  used,  and  might,  perhaps,  have  never  been  used  at  all, 
but  for  this  high  occasion.  On  the  toilette  beside,  stood  an 
old-fashioned  mirror,  in  a  fillagree  frame,  part  of  the  dis- 
persed finery  of  the  neighboring  castle.  It  was  flanked  by  a 
iong-necked  bottle  of  Florence  wine,  by  which  stood  a  glass 
nearly  as  tall,  resembling  in  shape  that  which  Teniers  usually 
places  in  the  hands  of  his  own  portrait,  when  he  paints  him- 
self as  mingling  in  the  revels  of  a  country  village.  To  coun- 
terbalance those  foreign  sentinels,  there  mounted  guard  on 
the  other  side  of  the  mirror  two  stout  warders  of  Scottish 
lineage  ;  a  jug,  namely,  of  double  ale,  which  held  a  Scotch 
pint,  and  a  quaigh,  or  bicker,  of  ivory  and  ebony,  hooped 
with  silver,  the  work  of  John  Girder's  own  hands,  and  the 
pride  of  his  heart.  Besides  these  preparations  against  thirst, 
there  was  a  goodly  diet-loaf,  or  sweet  cake  ;  so  that,  with  such 
auxiliaries,  the  apartment  seemed  victualled  against  a  siege  O'^ 
two  or  three  days. 


846  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

It  only  remains  to  say,  that  the  Marquis's  valet  was  in  at- 
tendance, displaying  his  master's  brocaded  nightgown,  and 
richly  embroidered  velvet  cap,  lined  and  faced  with  Brussels 
lace,  upon  a  liuge  leathern  easy-chair,  wheeled  round  so  as  to 
have  the  full  advantage  of  the  comfortable  fire  which  we  have 
already  mentioned.  We  therefore  commit  that  eminent  per- 
son to  his  night's  repose,  trusting  he  profited  by  the  ample 
preparations  made  for  his  accommodation — preparations 
which  we  have  mentioned  in  detail,  as  illustrative  of  ancient 
Scottish  manners. 

It  is  not  necessary  we  should  be  equally  minute  in  describ- 
ing the  sleeping  apartment  of  the  Master  of  Eavenswood, 
which  was  that  usually  occupied  by  the  goodman  and  good- 
wife  themselves.  It  was  comfortably  hung  with  a  sort  of 
warm-colored  worsted,  manufactured  in  Scotland,  approach- 
ing in  texture  to  what  is  now  called  shalloon.  A  staring 
picture  of  John  [Gibbie]  Girder  himself  ornamented  this  dor- 
mitory, painted  by  a  starving  Frenchman,  who  had,  God 
knows  how  or  why,  strolled  over  from  Flushing  or  Dunkirk 
to  Wolf's  Hope  in  a  smuggling  dogger.  The  features  were, 
indeed,  those  of  the  stubborn,  opinionative,  yet  sensible  ar- 
tisan, but  Monsieur  had  contrived  to  throw  a  French  grace 
into  the  look  and  manner,  so  utterly  inconsistent  with  the 
dogged  gravity  of  the  original,  that  it  was  impossible  to  look 
at  it  without  laughing.  John  and  his  family,  however,  piqued 
themselves  not  a  little  upon  this  picture,  and  were  propor- 
tionably  censured  by  the  neighborhood,  who  pronounced  that 
the  cooper,  in  sitting  for  the  same,  and  yet  more  in  presuming 
to  ha]ig  it  up  in  his  bedchamber,  had  exceeded  his  privilege 
as  the  richest  man  of  the  village ;  at  once  stejDped  beyond  the 
bounds  of  his  own  rank,  and  encroached  upon  those  of  the 
superior  orders ;  and,  in  fine,  had  been  guilty  of  a  very 
overweening  act  of  vanity  and  presumption.  Respect  for  the 
memory  of  my  deceased  friend,  Mr.  Eichard  Tinto,  has 
obliged  me  to  treat  this  matter  at  some  length  ;  but  I  spar*^ 
the  reader  his  prolix  though  curious  observations,  as  well  upon 
the  character  of  the  French  school  as  upon  the  state  of  paint- 
ing in  Scotland  at  the  beginning  of  the  18th  century. 

The  other  preparations  of  the  Master's  sleeping  apartment 
were  similar  to  those  in  the  chamber  of  dais. 

At  the  usual  early  hour  of  that  period,  the  Marquis  of 

A and  his  kinsman  prepared  to  resume  their  journey. 

This  could  not  be  done  without  an  ample  breakfast,  in  which 
cold  meat  and  hot  meat,  and  oatmeal  flummery,  wine  and 
spirits,  and  milk  varied  by  every  possible  mode  of  preparation, 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  241 

evinced  the  same  desire  to  do  honor  to  their  guests  which  had 
been  shown  by  the  hospitable  owners  of  the  mansion  upon  the 
evening  before.  All  the  bustle  of  preparation  for  departure 
now  resounded  through  Wolf's  Hope.  There  was  paying  of 
bills  and  shaking  of  hands,  and  saddling  of  horses,  and 
harnessing  of  carriages,  and  distributing  of  drink-money. 
The  Marquis  left  a  broad  piece  for  the  gratification  of  John 
Girder's  household,  which  he,  the  said  John,  was  for  some 
time  disposed  to  convert  to  his  own  use  ;  Dingwall,  the  writer, 
assuring  him  he  was  justified  in  so  doing,  seeing  he  was  the 
disburser  of  those  expenses  which  were  the  occasion  of  the 
gratification.  But,  notwithstanding  this  legal  authority, 
John  could  not  find  in  his  heart  to  dim  the  splendor  of  his 
late  hospitality  by  pocketing  anything  in  the  nature  of  a 
gratuity.  He  only  assured  his  menials  he  would  consider 
them  as  a  damned  ungrateful  pack  if  they  bought  a  gill  of 
brandy  elsewhere  than  out  of  his  own  stores  ;  and  as  the 
drink-money  was  likely  to  go  to  its  legitimate  use,  he  com- 
forted himself  that,  in  this  manner,  the  Marquis's  donative 
would,  without  any  impeachment  of  credit  and  character, 
come  ultimately  into  his  own  exclusive  possession. 

While  arrangements  were  making  for  departure.  Ravens- 
wood  made  blithe  the  heart  of  his  ancient  butler  by  inform- 
ing him,  cautiously  however  (for  he  knew  Caleb's  warmth  of 
imagination),  of  the  probable  change  which  was  about  to 
take  place  in  his  fortunes.  He  deposited  with  Balderstoue, 
at  the  same  time,  the  greater  part  of  his  slender  funds,  with 
an  assurance,  which  he  was  obliged  to  reiterate  more  than 
once,  that  he  himself  had  sufficient  supplies  in  certain  pros- 
pect. He  therefore  enjoined  Caleb,  as  he  valued  his  favor,  to 
desist  from  all  farther  manoeuvres  against  the  inhabitants  of 
Wolf's  Hope,  their  cellars,  poultry-yards,  and  substance 
whatsoever.  In  this  prohibition,  the  old  domestic  acquiesced 
more  readily  than  his  master  expected. 

'*'  It  was  doubtless,"  he  said,  "  a  shame,  a  discredit,  and  a 
sin  to  harry  the  puir  creatures,  when  the  family  were  in  cir- 
cumstances to  live  honorably  on  their  ain  means  ;  and  there 
might  be  wisdom,"  he  added,  "  in  giving  them  a  while's 
breathing-time  at  any  rate,  that  they  might  be  the  more 
readily  brought  forward  upon  his  honor's  future  occasions." 

This  matter  being  settled,  and  having  taken  an  affection- 
ate farewell  of  his  old  domestic,  the  Master  rejoined  his  noble 
relative,  who  was  now  ready  to  enter  his  carriage.  The  two 
landladies,  old  and  young,  having  received  in  all  kindly 
greeting  a  kiss  from  each  of  their  noble  guests,  stood  simper- 


248  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

ing  at  the  door  of  their  house,  as  the  coach  and  six,  followed 
by  its  train  of  clattering  horsemen,  thundered  out  of  the  vil- 
lage. John  Girder  also  stood  upon  his  threshold,  now  look- 
ing at  his  honored  right  hand,  wliich  had  been  so  lately 
shaken  by  a  marquis  and  a  lord,  and  now  giving  a  glance 
into  the  interior  of  his  mansion,  which  manifested  all  the 
disarray  of  the  late  revel,  as  if  balancing  the  distinction 
which  he  had  attained  with  the  expenses  of  the  entertain- 
ment. 

At  length  he  opened  his  oracular  jaws.  "  Let  every  man 
and  woman  here  set  about  their  ain  business,  as  if  there  was 
nae  sic  thing  as  marquis  or  master,  duke  or  drake,  laird  or 
lord,  in  this  world.  Let  the  house  be  redd  up,  the  broken 
meat  set  by,  and  if  there  is  onything  totally  uneatable,  let 
it  be  glen  to  the  puir  folk  ;  and,  gudemother  and  wife,  I  hae 
just  ae  thing  to  entreat  ye,  that  ye  will  never  speak  to  me  a 
single  word,  good  or  bad,  anent  a'  this  nonsense  wark,  but 
keep  a*  your  cracks  about  it  to  yoursells  and  your  kimmers,  for 
my  head  is  weel-nigh  dung  donnart  vvi'  it  already." 

As  John's  authority  was  tolerably  absolute,  all  departed  to 
their  usual  occupations,  leaving  him  to  build  castles  in  the 
air,  if  he  had  a  mind,  upon  the  court  favor  whicli  he  had  ae- 
quired  by  the  expenditure  of  his  worldly  substance. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

Why,  now  I  have  Dame  Fortune  by  the  forelock, 
And  if  she  escapes  my  grasp,  the  fault  is  mine  ; 
He  that  hath  buffeted  with  stern  adversity 
Best  knows  to  shape  his  course  to  favoring  breezes. 

Old  Play. 

OuK  travellers  reached  Edinburgh  without  any  farther  adven- 
ture, and  the  Master  of  Ravenswood,  as  had  been  previously 
settled,  took  up  his  abode  with  his  noble  friend. 

In  the  mean  time,  the  political  crisis  which  had  been  ex- 
pected took  place,  and  the  Tory  party  obtained  in  the  Scot- 
tish, as  in  the  English,  councils  of  Queen  Anne  a  short-lived 
ascendency,  of  which  it  is  not  our  business  to  trace  either  the 
cause  or  consequences.  Suffice  it  to  say,  that  it  affected  the 
different  political  parties  according  to  the  nature  of  their  prin- 
ciples. In  England,  many  of  the  High  Church  party,  with 
Harley,  afterwards  Earl  of  Oxford,  at  their  head,  affected  to 
separate  their  principles  from  those  of  the  Jacobites,  and,  on 
that  account,  obtained  the  denomination  of  Whimsicals.  The 
Scottish  High  Church  party,  on  the  contrary,  or,  as  they 
termed  themselves,  the  Cavaliers,  were  more  consistent,  if  not 
so  prudent,  in  their  politics,  and  viewed  all  the  changes  now 
made  as  preparatory  to  calling  to  the  throne,  upon  the  queen's 
demise,  her  brother,  the  Chevalier  de  St.  George.  Those  who 
had  suffered  in  his  service  now  entertained  the  most  unreason- 
able hopes,  not  only  of  indemnification,  but  of  vengeance  upon 
their  political  adversaries  ;  while  families  attached  to  the 
Whig  interest  saw  nothing  before  them  but  a  renewal  of  the 
hardships  they  had  undergone  during  the  reigns  of  Charles 
the  Second  and  his  brother,  and  a  retaliation  of  the  confisca- 
tion which  had  been  inflicted  upon  the  Jacobites  during  that 
of  King  William. 

But  the  most  alarmed  at  the  change  of  system  was  that 
prudential  set  of  persons,  some  of  whom  are  found  in  all  gov- 
ernments, but  who  abound  in  a  provisional  administration  like 
that  of  Scotland  during  the  period,  and  who  are  what  Crom- 
well called  waiters  upon  Providence,  or,  in  other  words,  uni- 
form adherents  to  the  party  who  are  uppermost.     Many  of 

9» 


350  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

these  hastened  to  read  their  recantation  to  the  Marquis  of 

A ;  and,  as  it  was  easily  seen  that  he  took  a  deep  interest 

in  the  affairs  of  his  kinsman,  the  Master  of  Ravenswood,  they 
were  the  first  to  suggest  measures  for  retrieving  at  least  a  part 
of  his  property,  and  for  restoring  him  in  blood  against  his 
father's  attainder. 

Old  Lord  Turntippet  professed  to  be  one  of  the  most 
anxious  for  the  success  of  these  measures  ;  for  "  it  grieved 
him  to  the  very  saul,'"  he  said,  '"to  see  so  brave  a  young  gen- 
tleman, of  sic  auld  and  undoubted  nobility,  and,  what  was 

mair  than  a'  that,  a  bluid  relation  of  the  Marquis  of  A , 

the  man  whom,"  he  swore,  "  he  honored  most  upon  the  face 
of  the  yearth,  brought  to  so  severe  a  pass.  For  his  ain  puir 
peculiar,"  as  he  said,  ''and  to  contribute  something  to  the 
rehabilitation  of  sae  auld  ane  house,"  the  said  Turntippet  sent 
in  three  family  pictures  lacking  the  frames,  and  six  high- 
backed  chairs,  with  worked  Turkey  cushions,  having  the  crest 
of  Ravenswood  broidered  thereon,  without  charging  a  penny 
either  of  the  principal  or  interest  they  had  cost  him,  when  he 
bought  them,  sixteen  years  before,  at  a  roup  of  the  furniture 
of  Lord  Ravenswood's  lodgings  in  the  Canongate. 

Much  more  to  Lord  Turntippet's  dismay  than  to  his  sur- 
prise, although  he  affected  to  feel  more  of  the  latter  than  the 
former,  the  Marquis  received  his  gift  very  dryly,  and  observed, 
that  his  lordship's  restitution,  if  he  expected  it  to  be  received 
by  the  Master  of  Ravenswood  and  his  friends,  must  compre- 
hend a  pretty  large  farm,  which,  having  been  mortgaged  to 
Turntippet  for  a  very  inadequate  sum,  he  had  contrived, 
during  the  confusion  of  the  family  affairs,  and  by  means  well 
understood  by  the  lawyers  of  that  period,  to  acquire  to  him- 
self in  absolute  property. 

The  old  time-serving  lord  winced  excessively  under  this 
requisition,  protesting  to  Grod,  that  he  saw  no  occasion  the 
lad  could  have  for  the  instant  possession  of  the  land,  seeing  he 
would  doubtless  now  recover  the  bulk  of  his  estate  from  Sir 
William  Ashton,  to  which  he  was  ready  to  contribute  by  every 
means  in  his  power,  as  was  just  and  reasonable  ;  and  finally 
declaring,  that  he  was  willing  to  settle  the  land  on  the  young 
gentleman  after  his  own  natural  demise. 

But  all  these  excuses  availed  nothing,  and  he  was  com- 
pelled to  disgorge  the  property,  on  receiving  back  the  sum  for 
which  it  had  been  mortgaged.  Having  no  other  means  of 
making  peace  with  the  higher  powers,  he  returned  home  sor- 
rowful and  malcontent,  complaining  to  his  confidants,  ''That 
every  mutation  or  change  in  the  estate  had  hitherto  been  pro- 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  251 

ductive  of  some  sma'  advantage  to  him  in  hisaiu  quiet  affairs  , 
but  that  the  present  had — pize  upon  it ! — cost  him  one  of  the 
best  pen-feuthers  o'  his  wing." 

Simihir  measures  were  threatened  against  others  who  had 
profited  by  the  wreck  of  the  fortune  of  Ravenswood  ;  and  Sir 
William  Ashton,  in  particular,  was  menaced  with  an  appeal 
to  the  House  of  Peers,  a  court  of  equity,  against  the  judicial 
sentences,  proceeding  upon  a  strict  and  severe  construction 
of  the  letter  of  the  law,  under  which  he  held  the  castle  and 
barony  of  Ravenswood.  With  him,  however,  the  Master,  as 
well  for  Lucy's  sake  as  on  account  of  the  hospitality  he  had 
received  from  him,  felt  himself  under  the  necessity  of  pro- 
ceeding with  great  candor.  He  wrote  to  the  late  Lord 
Keeper,  for  he  no  longer  held  that  office,  stating  frankly  the 
engagement  which  existed  between  him  and  Miss  Ashton, 
requesting  his  permission  for  their  union,  and  assuring  him 
of  his  willingness  to  put  the  settlement  of  all  matters  between 
them  upon  such  a  footing  as  Sir  William  himself  should  think 
favorable. 

The  same  messenger  was  charged  with  a  letter  to  Lady 
Ashton,  deprecating  any  cause  of  displeasure  which  the  Master 
might  unintentionally  have  given  her,  enlarging  upon  his  at- 
tachment to  Miss  Ashton,  and  the  length  to  which  it  had  pro- 
ceeded, and  conjuring  the  lady,  as  a  Douglas  in  nature  as 
well  as  in  name,  generously  to  forget  ancient  prejudices  and 
misunderstandings,  and  to  believe  that  the  family  had  acquired 
a  friend,  and  she  herself  a  respectful  and  attached  humble 
servant,  in  him  who  subscribed  himself  "Edgar,  Master  of 
Ravenswood." 

A  third  letter  Ravenswood  addressed  to  Lucy,  and  the 
messenger  was  instructed  to  find  some  secret  and  secure 
means  of  delivering  it  into  her  own  hands.  It  contained  the 
strongest  protestations  of  continued  affection,  and  dwelt  upon 
the  approaching  change  of  the  writer's  fortunes,  as  chiefly 
valuable  by  tending  to  remove  the  impediments  to  their 
union.  He  related  the  steps  he  had  taken  to  overcome  the 
prejudices  of  her  parents,  and  especially  of  her  mother,  and 
expressed  his  hope  they  might  prove  effectual.  If  not,  he 
still  trusted  that  his  absence  from  Scotland  upon  an  impor- 
tant and  honorable  mission  might  give  time  for  prejudices  to 
die  away ;  while  he  hoped  and  trusted  Miss  Ashton's  con- 
stancy, on  which  he  had  the  most  implicit  reliance,  would 
baffle  any  effort  that  might  be  used  to  divert  her  attachment. 
Much  more  there  was,  which,  however  interesting  to  the 
lovers  themselves,  would  afford  the  reader  neither  interest 


3SS  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

nor  information.  To  each  of  these  three  letters  the  Mastei 
of  Ravenswood  received  an  answer,  but  by  different  means  of 
conveyance,  and  certainly  couched  in  very  different  styles. 

Lady  Ashton  answered  his  letter  by  his  own  messenger, 
who  was  not  allowed  to  remain  at  Ravenswood  a  moment 
longer  than  she  was  engaged  in  penning  these  lines.  "  For 
the  hand  of  Mr.  Ravenswood  of  Wolf's  Crag — These  • 

"  SlE,  UNKNOWN, 

"I  have  received  a  letter,  signed  'Edgar,  Master  of 
Ravenswood,'  concerning  the  writer  whereof  I  am  uncertain, 
seeing  that  the  honors  of  such  a  family  were  forfeited  for  high 
treason  in  the  person  of  Allan,  late  Lord  Ravenswood.  Sir, 
if  you  shall  happen  to  be  the  person  so  subscribing  yourself, 
you  will  please  to  know,  that  I  claim  the  full  interest  of  a 
parent  in  Miss  Lucy  Ashton,  which  I  have  disposed  of  irrev- 
ocably in  behalf  of  a  worthy  person.  And,  sir,  were  tiiis 
otherwise,  I  would  not  listen  to  a  proposal  from  you,  or  any 
of  your  house,  seeing  their  hand  has  been  uniformly  held  up 
against  the  freedom  of  the  subject  and  the  immunities  of 
Grod's  kirk.  Sir,  it  is  not  a  flightering  blink  of  prosperity 
which  can  change  my  constant  opinion  in  this  regard,  seeing 
it  has  been  my  lot  before  now,  like  holy  David,  to  see  the 
wicked  great  in  power  and  flourishing  like  a  green  bay-tree  ; 
nevertheless  I  passed,  and  they  were  not,  and  the  place  thereof 
knew  them  no  more.  Wishing  you  to  lay  these  things  to  your 
heart  for  your  own  sake,  so  far  as  they  may  concern  you,  I 
pray  you  to  take  no  farther  notice  of  her  who  desires  to  re- 
main your  unknown  servant, 

"Margaret  Douglas, 

"  otherwise  AshtoN"/' 

About  two  days  after  he  had  received  this  very  unsatis  • 
factory  epistle,  the  Master  of  Ravenswood,  while  walking  up 
the  High  Street  of  Edinburgh,  was  jostled  by  a  person,  in 
whom,  as  the  man  pulled  off  his  hat  to  make  an  apology,  he 
recognized  Lockhard,  the  confidential  domestic  of  Sir  Will- 
iam Ashton.  The  man  bowed,  slipped  a  letter  into  his  hand, 
and  disappeared.  The  packet  contained  four  close-written 
folios,  from  which,  however,  as  is  sometimes  incident  to  the 
compositions  of  great  lawyers,  little  could  be  extracted,  ex- 
cepting that  the  writer  felt  himself  in  a  very  puzzling  pre- 
dicament. 

Sir  William  spoke  at  length  of  his  high  value  and  regard 
for  his  dear  young  friend,  the  Master  of  Ravenswood,  and  of 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  268 

his  very  extreme  high  value  and  regard  for  the  Marquis  of 

A ,  his  very  dear  old  friend  ;  he  trusted  that  any  measures 

that  they  might  adopt,  in  which  he  was  concerned,  would  be 
carried  on  with  due  regard  to  the  sanctity  of  decreets  and 
judgments  obtained  in  foro  contentioso;  protesting,  before 
men  and  angels,  that  if  the  law  of  Scotland,  as  declared  in 
her  supreme  courts,  were  to  undergo  a  reversal  in  the  Eng- 
lish House  of  Lords,  the  evils  which  would  thence  arise  to 
the  public  would  inflict  a  greater  wound  upon  his  heart  than 
any  loss  he  might  himself  sustain  by  such  irregular  proceed- 
ings. He  flourished  much  on  generosity  and  forgiveness  of 
mutual  injuries,  and  hinted  at  the  mutability  of  human 
affairs,  always  favorite  topics  with  the  weaker  party  in  poli- 
tics. He  pathetically  lamented,  and  gently  censured,  the 
haste  which  had  been  used  in  depriving  him  of  his  situation 
of  Lord  Keeper,*  which  his  experience  had  enabled  him  to 
fill  with  some  advantage  to  the  public,  without  so  much  as 
giving  him  an  opportunity  of  explaining  how  far  his  own 
views  of  general  politics  might  essentially  differ  frcm  those 

now  in  power.     He  was  convinced  the  Marquis  of  i^ had 

as  sincere  intentions  towards  the  public  as  himself  or  any 
man  ;  and  if,  upon  a  conference,  they  could  have  agreed  upon 
the  measures  by  which  it  was  to  be  pursued,  his  experience 
and  his  interest  should  have  gone  to  support  the  present  ad- 
ministration. Upon  the  engagement  betwixt  Eavenswood 
and  his  daughter,  he  spoke  in  a  dry  and  confused  manner. 
He  regretted  so  premature  a  step  as  the  engagement  of  the 
young  people  should  have  been  taken,  and  conjured  the  Mas- 
ter to  remember  he  had  never  given  any  encouragement  there- 
unto ;  and  observed  that,  as  a  transaction  inter  minor es,  and 
without  concurrence  of  his  daughter's  natural  curators,  the 
engagement  was  inept,  and  void  in  law.  This  precipitate 
measure,  he  added,  had  produced  a  very  bad  effect  upon  Lady 
Ashton's  mind,  which  it  was  impossible  at  present  to  remove. 
Her  son,  Colonel  Douglas  Ashton,  had  embraced  her  preju- 
dices in  the  fullest  extent,  and  it  was  impossible  for  Sir  Will- 
iam to  adopt  a  course  disagreeable  to  them  without  a  fatal 
and  irreconcilable  breach  in  his  family ;  which  was  not  at 
present  to  be  thought  of.  Time,  the  great  physician,  he 
hoped,  would  mend  all. 

In  a  postscript,  Sir  William  said  something  more  explic- 
itly, which  seemed  to  intimate  that,  rather  than  the  law  of 
Scotland  should  sustain  a  severe  wound  through  his  sides,  by 

*  This  obviously  cannot  apply  to  Sir  James  Dalrymple.  Lord  Stair,  who  was 
then  dead,  and  liad  never  been  deprived  of  any  sucli  office  (Laing). 


264  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

a  reversal  of  the  judgment  of  her  supreme  courts,  in  the 
case  of  the  barony  of  Ravenswood,  through  the  intervention 
of  what,  with  all  submission,  he  must  term  a  foreign  court  of 
appeal,  he  himself  would  extrajudicially  consent  to  consider- 
able sacrifices. 

From  Lucy  Ashton,  by  some  unknown  conveyance,  the 
Master  received  the  following  lines  :  "I  received  yours,  but 
it  was  at  the  utmost  risk  ;  do  not  attempt  to  write  again  till 
better  times.  I  am  sore  beset,  but  I  will  be  true  to  my  word, 
while  the  exercise  of  my  reason  is  vouchsafed  to  me.  That 
you  are  happy  and  prosperous  is  some  consolation,  and  my 
situation  requires  it  all."     The  note  was  signed  "  L.  A." 

This  letter  filled  Ravenswood  with  the  most  lively  alarm. 
He  made  many  attempts,  notwithstanding  her  prohibition,  to 
convey  letters  to  Miss  Ashton,  and  even  to  obtain  an  interview  ; 
but  his  plans  were  frustrated,  and  he  had  only  the  mortifica- 
tion to  learn  that  anxious  and  effectual  precautions  had  been 
taken  to  prevent  the  possibility  of  their  correspondence.  The 
Master  was  the  more  distressed  by  these  circumstances,  as  it 
became  impossible  to  delay  his  departure  from  Scotland,  upon 
the  important  mission  which  had  been  confided  to  him.  Be- 
fore his  departure,  he  put  Sir  William  Ashton's  letter  into  the 

hands  of  the  Marquis  of  A ,  who  observed  with  a  smile, 

that  Sir  William's  day  of  grace  was  past,  and  that  he  had  now 
to  learn  which  side  of  the  hedge  the  sun  had  got  to.  It  was 
with  the  greatest  difficulty  that  Ravenswood  extorted  from 
the  Marquis  a  promise  that  he  would  compromise  the  pro- 
ceedings in  Parliament,  providing  Sir  William  should  be  dis- 
posed to  acquiesce  in  a  union  between  him  and  Lucy  Ashton. 

"  I  would  hardly,"  said  the  Marquis,  "  consent  to  your 
throwing  away  your  birtliright  in  this  manner,  were  I  not 
perfectly  confident  that  Lady  Ashton,  or  Lady  Douglas,  or 
whatever  she  calls  herself,  will,  as  Scotchmen  say,  keep  her 
threep  ;  and  that  her  husband  dares  not  contradict  her." 

''  But  yet,"  said  the  Master,  "  I  trust  your  lordship  will 
consider  ray  engagement  as  sacred." 

"  Believe  my  word  of  honor,"  said  the  Marquis,  ''I  would 
be  a  friend  even  to  your  follies  ;  and  having  thus  told  you  my 
opinion,  I  will  endeavor,  as  occasion  offers,  to  serve  you  ac- 
cording to  your  own." 

The  Master  of  Ravenswood  could  but  thank  his  generous 
kinsman  and  patron,  and  leave  him  full  power  to  act  in  all 
his  affairs.  He  departed  from  Scotland  upon  his  mission, 
which,  it  was  supposed,  might  detain  him  upon  the  continent 
for  some  montbx. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

Was  ever  woman  in  tliis  humor  wooed  ? 
Was  ever  woman  in  this  humor  won  ? 
I'll  have  her. 

Richard  III. 

Twelve  months  had  passed  away  since  the  Master  of  Ravens- 
wood's  departure  for  the  continent,  and,  although  his  return 
to  Scothmd  had  been  expected  in  a  much  shorter  space,  yet 
the  affairs  of  his  mission,  or,  according  to  a  prevailing  report, 
others  of  a  nature  personal  to  himself,  still  detained  him 
abroad.  In  the  mean  time,  the  altered  state  of  affairs  in  Sir 
William  Ashton's  family  may  be  gathered  from  the  following 
conversation  which  took  place  betwixt  Bucklaw  and  his  con- 
fidential bottle  companion  and  dependent,  the  noted  Captain 
Craigengelt. 

They  were  seated  on  either  side  of  the  huge  sepulchral- 
looking  freestone  chimney  in  the  low  hall  at  Girnington.  A 
wood  tire  blazed  merrily  in  the  grate  ;  a  round  oaken  table, 
placed  Ijetween  t!iem,  supported  a  stoup  of  excellent  claret, 
two  rummer  glasses,  and  other  good  cheer  ;  and  yet,  with  all 
these  appliances  and  means  to  boot,  the  countenance  of  the 
patron  was  dubious,  doubtful,  and  unsatisfied,  while  the  in- 
vention of  his  dependant  was  taxed  to  the  utmost  to  parry 
what  he  most  dreaded,  a  fit,  as  he  called  it,  of  the  sullens,  on 
the  part  of  his  protector.  After  a  long  jiause,  only  interrupted 
by  the  devil's  tattoo,  which  Bucklaw  kept  beating  against 
the  hearth  with  the  toe  of  his  boot,  Craigengelt  at  last  ven- 
tured to  break  silence.  "  May  I  be  double  distanced,"  said 
he,  "  if  ever  I  saw  a  man  in  my  life  have  less  the  air  of  a 
bridegroom  !  Cut  me  out  of  feather,  if  you  have  not  more 
the  look  of  a  man  condemned  to  be  hanged  ! " 

"  My  kind  thanks  for  the  compliment,"  replied  Bucklaw  ; 
"  but  I  suppose  you  think  upon  the  predicament  in  which  you 
yourself  are  most  likely  to  be  placed  ;  and  pray.  Captain 
Craigengelt,  if  it  please  your  worship,  why  should  I  look 
merry,  when  I'm  sad,  and  devilish  sad  too  ?  " 

''And  that's  what  vexes  me,"  said  Craigengelt.  "  Here 
is  this  match,  the  best  in  the  whole  country,  and  which  yon 


256  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

were  so  anxious  about,  is  on  the  point  of  being  concluded, 
and  you  are  as  sulky  as  a  bear  that  has  lost  its  whelps/' 

"  I  do  not  know,"  answered  the  Laird,  doggedly,  "  whether 
I  should  conclude  it  or  not,  if  it  was  not  that  I  am  too  far 
forwards  to  leap  back." 

''  Leap  back  I "  exclaimed  Craigenfelt,  with  a  well-assumed 
air  of  astonishment,  "'  that  would  be  playing  the  back-game 
with  a  witness  !  Leap  back  !  Why,  is  not  the  girl's  for- 
tune  " 

"  The  young  lady's,  if  you  please,"  said  Hayston,  inter- 
rupting him. 

'•  Well — well,  no  disrespect  meant.  Will  Miss  Ashton's 
tocher  not  weigh  against  any  in  Lothian  ?" 

"  Granted,"  answered  Bucklaw ;  "but  I  care  not  a  penny 
for  her  tocher  ;  I  have  enough  of  my  own." 

"And  the  mother,  that  loves  you  like  her  own  child  ?" 

"Better  than  some  of  her  children,  I  believe,"  said  Buck- 
law,  "  or  there  would  be  little  love  wared  on  the  matter." 

"  And  Colonel  Sliolto  Douglas  Ashton,  who  desires  the 
marriage  above  all  earthly  things  ?" 

"Because,"  said  Bucklaw,  "he  expects  to  carry  the 
county  of through  my  interest." 

"  And  the  father,  who  is  as  keen  to  see  the  match  con- 
cluded as  ever  I  have  been  to  win  a  main  ?" 

"Ay,"  said  Bucklaw,  in  the  same  disparaging  manner, 
"it  lies  with  Sir  William's  policy  to  secure  the  next  best 
match,  since  he  cannot  barter  his  child  to  save  the  great 
Ravenswood  estate,  which  the  English  House  of  Lords  are 
about  to  wrench  out  of  his  clutches." 

"  What  say  you  to  the  young  lady  herself  ?  "  said  Craigeu- 
gelt ;  "  the  finest  young  woman  in  all  Scotland,  one  that  you 
used  to  be  so  fond  of  when  she  was  cross,  and  now  she  con- 
sents to  have  you,  and  gives  up  her  engagement  with  Ravens- 
wood,  you  are  for  Jibbing.  I  must  say,  the  devil's  in  ye, 
when  ye  neither  know  what  you  would  have  nor  what  you 
would  want." 

"'  I'll  tell  you  my  meaning  in  a  word,"  answered  Bucklaw, 
getting  up  and  walking  through  the  room  ;  "I  want  to  know 
what  the  devil  is  the  cause  of  Miss  Ashton's  changing  her 
mind  so  suddenly  ?  " 

"  And  what  need  you  care,"  said  Craigengelt,  "  since  the 
change  is  in  your  favor  ?  " 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  it  is,"  returned  his  patron,  "I  never 
knew  much  of  that  sort  of  fine  ladies,  and  I  believe  they  may 
be  as  capricious  as  the  devil ;  but  there  is  something  in  Miss 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOH  '<»7 

Ashton's  change  a  devilish  deal  too  sudden  and  too  serious 
for  a  mere  flisk  of  her  own,  I'll  be  bound.  Lady  Ashtoii 
understands  every  machine  for  breaking  in  the  human  miTid, 
ftnd  there  are  as  many  as  there  are  cannon-bits,  martingales, 
and  cavessons  for  young  colts." 

"  And  if  that  were  not  the  case/'  said  Craigengelt,  **  how 
the  devil  should  we  ever  get  tliem  into  training  at  all  ?  " 

"  And  that's  true  too/'  said  Bucklaw,,  suspending  his 
march  through  the  dining-room,  and  leaning  upon  the  back 
of  a  chair.  *'  And  besides,  here's  Ravenswood  in  the  way 
still ;  do  you  think  he'll  give  up  Lucy's  engagement  ?" 

*'  To  be  sure  he  will,"  answered  Craigengelt ;  "  what  good 
can  it  do  him  to  refuse,  since  he  wishes  to  marry  another 
woman,  and  she  another  man  ?  " 

•'  And  you  be'ieve  seriously,"  said  Bucklaw,  "  that  he  is 
going  to  marry  tlie  foreign  lady  we  heard  of  ?" 

"  You  hearu  yourself,"  answered  Craigengelt,  "  what 
Captain  Westenho  said  about  it,  and  the  great  preparation 
made  for  their  blithesome  bridal." 

"  Captain  Westenho,"  replied  Bucklaw,  "  has  rather  too 
much  of  your  own  cast  about  him,  Craigie,  to  make  what  Sir 
William  would  call  a  '  famous  witness.''  He  drinks  deep, 
plays  deep,  swears  deep,  and  I  suspect  can  lie  and  cheat  a 
little  into  the  bargain  ;  useful  qualities  Craigie,  if  kept  in 
their  proper  sphere,  but  which  have  a  little  too  much  of  the 
freebooter  to  make  a  figure  in  a  court  of  evidence." 

"  Well,  then,"  said  Craigengelt,  "  will  you  believe  Colonel 

Douglas  Ashton,  who  heard  the  Marquis  of  A say  in  v 

public  circle,  but  not  aware  that  he  was  within  ear-shot,  that 
his  kinsman  had  made  a  better  arrangement  for  himself  than 
to  give  his  father's  land  for  the  pale-cheeked  daughter  of  a 
broken-down  fanatic,  and  that  Bucklaw  was  welcome  to  the 
wearing  of  Ravenswood's  shaughled  shoes." 

"  Did  he  say  so,  by  heavens  ! "  cried  Bucklaw,  brctiking 
out  into  one  of  those  uncontrollable  fits  of  passion  to  wliich 
he  was  constitutionally  subiect ;  "  if  I  had  heard  him,  I  would 
have  torn  :he  tongue  out  of  his  throat  before  all  his  peats 
and  minion:,  and  Highland  bullies  into  the  bargain.  Why 
did  not  Ashton  ri  n  him  through  the  body  ?" 

"  Capot  me  if  I  know,"  said  the  Captain.  "  He  deserved 
it  sure  enough  ;  but  he  is  an  old  man.  and  a  minister  of  state, 
and  there  would  be  more  risk  than  credit  in  meddling  with 
him.  You  had  more  need  to  think  of  making  up  to  Miss 
Lucy  Ashton  the  disgrace  that's  like  to  fall  upon  her  than 
of  interfering  with  a  man  too  old  to  fight,  and  on  too  nigh 
a  stool  for  your  hand  to  reach  him." 


258  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

"It  shall  reach  him,  though,  one  day/' said  Bucklaw, 
"  aud  his  kinsman  Ravenswood  to  boot.  In  the  mean  time, 
I'll  take  care  Miss  Ashton  receives  no  discredit  for  the  slight 
they  have  put  upon  her.  It's  an  awkward  job,  however,  and 
I  wish  it  were  ended  ;  I  scarce  know  how  to  talk  to  her, — 
but  fill  a  bumper,  Craigie,  and  we'll  drink  her  health.  It 
grows  late,  and  a  night-cowl  of  good  claret  is  worth  all  the 
considering-caps  in  Europe/' 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

it  was  the  copy  of  ouv  conference. 
In  bed  she  slept  not,  for  my  urging  it ; 
At  board  she  fed  not,  for  my  urging  it ; 
Alone,  it  was  the  subject  of  my  theme  ; 
In  company  I  often  glanced  at  it. 

Comedy  of  Errora. 

The  next  morning  saw  Bucklaw  and  his  faithful  Achates, 
Craigengelt,  at  Ravenswood  Castle.  They  were  most  courte- 
ously received  by  the  kuight  and  his  lady,  as  well  as  by  their 
son  and  heir.  Colonel  Ashton.  After  a  good  deal  of  stam- 
mering and  blushing — for  Bucklaw,  notwithstanding  his 
audacity  in  other  matters,  had  all  the  sheepish  bashfulness 
common  to  those  who  have  lived  in  respectable  society — he 
contrived  at  length  to  explain  his  wish  to  be  admitted  to  a 
conference  with  Miss  Ashton  upon  the  subject  of  their  ap- 
proaching union.  Sir  William  and  his  son  looked  at  Lady 
Ashton,  who  replied  with  the  greatest  composure,  *'  That 
Lucy  would  wait  upon  Mr.  Hayston  directly.  I  hope,"  she 
added  with  a  smile,  "  that  as  Lucy  is  very  young,  and  has 
been  lately  trepanned  into  an  engagement  of  which  she  is 
now  heartily  ashamed,  our  dear  Bucklaw  will  excuse  her 
wish  that  I  should  be  present  at  tlieir  interview  ?" 

*'  In  truth,  my  dear  lady,"*  said  Bucklaw,  *'it  is  the  very 
thing  that  I  would  have  desired  on  my  own  account ;  for  1 
have  been  so  little  accustomed  to  what  is  called  gallantry, 
that  I  shall  certainly  fall  into  some  cursed  mistake  unless  I 
have  the  advantage  of  your  ladyship  as   an  interpreter.'" 

It  was  thus  that  Bucklaw,  in  the  perturbation  of  his  em- 
barrassment upon  this  critical  occasion,  forgot  the  just  appre- 
hensions he  had  entertained  of  Lady  Ashton's  overbearing 
ascendency  over  her  daughter's  mind,  and  lost  an  opportunity 
of  ascertaining,  by  his  own  investigation,  the  real  state  of 
Lucy's  feelings. 

The  other  gentlemen  left  the  room,  and  in  a  short 
time  Lady  Ashton,  followed  by  her  daughter,  entered  the 
apartment.  She  appeared,  as  he  had  seen  her  on  former 
occasions,  rather  composed  than  agitated ;  but  a  nicer  judge 
than  he  could  scarce  have  determined  whether  her  calmness 
was  that  of  despair  or  of  indifference.    Bucklaw  was  too  much 

959 


260  WA  VERLEY  A  O  VEL  S 

agitated  by  his  own  feelings  minutely  to  scrutinize  those  of 
the  lady.  He  stammered  out  an  unconnected  address,  con- 
founding together  the  two  or  three  topics  to  which  it  related, 
and  stopped  short  before  he  brought  it  to  any  regular  conclu- 
sion. Miss  Asliton  listened,  or  looked  as  if  she  listened,  but 
returned  not  a  single  word  in  answer,  continuing  to  fix  her 
eyes  on  a  small  piece  of  embroidery  on  which,  as  if  by  instinct 
or  habit,  her  fingers  were  busily  employed.  Lady  Ashton  sat 
at  some  distance,  almost  screened  from  notice  by  the  deep 
embrasure  of  the  window  in  which  she  had  placed  her  chair. 
From  this  she  whispered,  in  a  tone  of  voice  which,  though 
soft  and  sweet,  had  something  in  it  of  admonition,  if  not 
command — "  Lucy,  my  dear,  remember — have  you  heard 
what  Bucklaw  has  been  saying  ?  " 

The  idea  of  her  mother's  presence  seemed  to  have  slipped 
from  the  unhappy  girl's  recollection.  She  started,  dropped 
her  needle,  and  repeated  hastily,  and  almost  in  the  same 
breath,  the  contradictory  answers,  *'  Yes,  madam — no,  my 
lady — I  beg  pardon,  I  did  not  hear.'* 

"  You  need  not  blush,  my  love,  and  still  less  need  you  look 
so  pale  and  frightened,"  said  Lady  Ashton,  coming  forward  ; 
**  we  know  that  maiden's  ears  must  be  slow  in  receiving  a  gen- 
tleman's language;  but  you  must  remember  Mr.  Hayston 
speaks  on  a  subject  on  which  you  have  long  shice  agreed  to 
give  him  a  favorable  hearing.  You  know  how  much  your 
father  and  I  have  our  hearts  set  upon  an  event  so  extremely 
desirable.** 

lu  Lady  Ashton*s  voice,  a  tone  of  impressive,  and  even 
stern,  innuendo  was  sedulously  and  skilfully  concealed  under 
an  appearance  of  the  most  affectionate  maternal  tenderness. 
The  manner  was  for  Bucklaw,  who  was  easily  enough  imposed 
upon  ;  the  matter  of  the  exhortation  was  for  the  terrified 
Lucy,  who  well  knew  how  to  interpret  her  mother's  hints, 
however  skilfully  their  real  purport  might  be  veiled  f row  gen- 
eral observation. 

Miss  Ashton  sat  upright  in  her  chair,  cast  round  her  a 
glance  in  which  fear  was  mingled  with  a  still  wilder  expres- 
sion, but  remained  perfectly  silent.  Bucklaw,  who  had  in  the 
meantime  paced  the  room  to  and  fro,  until  he  had  recovered 
his  composure,  now  stopped  within  two  or  three  yards  of  her 
chair,  and  broke  out  as  follow  :  "  I  believe  I  have  been  f 
d — d  fool,  Miss  Asliton  ;  I  have  tried  to  speak  to  you  as  peo- 
ple tell  me  young  ladies  like  to  be  talked  to,  and  I  don't  think 
you  comprehend  what  I  have  been  saying  ;  and  no  wonder, 
for  d — n  me  if  I  understand  it  myself  !     But,  however,  once 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOB  261 

for  all,  and  in  broad  Scotch,  your  father  and  mother  like  what 
is  proposed,  and  if  you  eau  take  a  plain  young  fellow  for  your 
husband,  who  will  never  cross  you  in  anything  you  have  a 
mind  to,  I  will  place  you  at  the  head  of  the  best  establishment 
in  the  three  Lothians  ;  you  shall  have  Lady  Girnington's 
lodging  in  the  Canongate  of  Edinburgh,  go  where  you  please, 
do  what  you  please,  and  see  what  you  please — and  that's  fair. 
Only  I  must  have  a  corner  at  the  board-end  for  a  worthless 
old  playfellow  of  mine,  Avhose  company  I  would  rather  want 
than  have,  if  it  were  not  that  the  d — d  fellow  has  persuaded 
me  that  I  can't  do  without  him  ;  and  so  I  hope  you  won't  ex- 
cept against  Craigie,  although  it  might  be  easy  to  find  much 
better  company." 

''Now,  out  upon  you,  Bucklaw," said  Lady  Ashton, again 
interposing  ;  "  how  can  you  think  Lucy  can  have  any  objec- 
tion to  that  blunt,  honest,  good-natured  creature.  Captain 
Craigengelt  ?  " 

"Why,  madam/' replied  Bucklaw,  "as  to  Craigie's  sin- 
cerity, honesty,  and  good-nature,  they  are,  I  believe,  pretty 
much  upon  a  par  ;  but  that's  neither  here  nor  there — the  fel- 
low knows  my  ways,  and  has  got  useful  to  me,  and  I  cannot 
well  do  without  him,  as  I  said  before.  But  all  this  is  noth- 
ing to  the  purpose  ;  for,  since  I  have  mustered  up  courage  to 
make  a  plain  proposal,  I  would  fain  hear  Miss  Ashton,  from 
her  own  lips,  give  me  a  plain  answer." 

"  My  dear  Bucklaw,"  said  Lady  Ashton,  "  let  me  spare 
Lucy's  bashfulness.  I  tell  you,  in  her  presence,  that  she  has 
already  consented  to  be  guided  by  her  father  and  me  in  this 
matter.  Lucy,  my  love,"  she  added,  with  that  singular  com- 
bination of  suavity  of  tone  and  pointed  energy  which  we  have 
already  noticed — "Lucy,  my  dearest  love  !  speak  for  yourself, 
is  i^  not  as  I  say  ? " 

Her  victim  answered  in  a  tremulous  and  hollow  voice,  "  I 
have  promised  to  obey  you — but  upon  one  condition ! " 

"She  means,"  said  Lady  Ashton,  turning  to  Bucklaw, 
"  she  expects  an  answer  to  the  demand  which  she  has  made 
upon  the  man  at  Vienna,  or  Ratisbon,  or  Paris — or  where  is 
he  ? — for  restitution  of  the  engagement  in  which  he  had  the 
art  to  involve  her.  You  will  not,  I  am  sure,  my  dear  friend, 
think  it  is  wrong  that  she  should  feel  much  delicacy  upon  this 
head  ;  indeed,  it  concerns  us  all." 

"  Perfectly  right — quite  fair,"  said  Bucklaw,  half  hnm- 
ming,  half  speaking  the  end  of  the  old  song — 

"  '  It  is  best  to  be  off  wi'  the  old  love 
Before  you  be  on  wi'  the  new. ' 


263  WAVERLEY  NCrVELS 

But  I  thought/' said  he,  pausing,  '''you  might  have  had  an 
answer  six  times  told  from  Ravenswood.  D — n  me,  if  I  have 
not  a  mind  to  go  and  fetch  one  myself,  if  Miss  Ashton  will 
honor  me  with  the  commission." 

"By  no  means,"  said  Lady  Ashton;  "we  have  had  the 
utmost  difficulty  of  preventing  Douglas,  for  whom  it  would 
be  more  proper,  from  taking  so  rash  a  step  ;  and  do  you  think 
we  could  permit  you,  my  good  friend,  almost  equally  dear  to 
us,  to  go  to  a  desperate  man  upon  an  errand  so  desperate  ? 
In  fact,  all  the  friends  of  the  family  are  of  opinion,  and  my 
dear  Lucy  herself  ought  so  to  think,  that,  as  this  unworthy 
person  has  returned  no  answer  to  her  letter,  silence  must  on 
this,  as  in  other  cases,  be  held  to  give  consent,  and  a  contract 
must  be  supposed  to  be  given  up,  when  the  party  waives  in- 
sisting upon  it.  Sir  William,  who  should  know  best,  is  clear 
upon  this  subject ;  and  therefore,  my  dear  Lucy " 

"  Madam,"  said  Lucy,  with  unwonted  energy,  "urge  me 
no  farther  ;  if  this  unhappy  engagement  be  restored,  I  have 
already  said  you  shall  dispose  of  me  as  you  will ;  till  then  I 
should  commit  a  heavy  sin  in  the  sight  of  God  and  man  in 
doing  what  you  require." 

"  But,  my  love,  if  this  man  remains  obstinately  silent " 

"He  will  nothQ  silent,"  answered  Lucy  ;  "it  is  six  weeks 
since  I  sent  him  a  double  of  my  former  letter  by  a  sure  hand." 

"  You  have  not — you  could  not — you  durst  not,"  said  Lady 
Ashton,  with  violence  inconsistent  with  the  tone  she  had  in- 
tended to  assume;  but  instantly  correcting  herself,  "My 
dearest  Lucy,"  said  she,  in  her  sweetest  tone  of  expostulation, 
"  how  could  you  think  of  such  a  thing  ?" 

"No  matter,"  said  Bucklaw  ;  "  I  respect  Miss  Ashton  for 
her  sentiments,  and  I  only  wish  I  had  been  her  messenger 
myself." 

"  And  pray  how  long.  Miss  Ashton,"  said  her  mother, 
ironically,  "are  we  to  wait  the  return  of  your  Pacolet — your 
fairy  messenger — since  our  humble  couriers  of  flesh  and 
blood  could  not  be  trusted  in  this  matter  ?  " 

"  I  have  numbered  weeks,  days,  hours,  and  minutes," 
said  Miss  Ashton  ;  "  within  another  week  I  shall  have  an 
answer,  unless  he  is  dead.  Till  that  time,  sir,"  she  said, 
addressing  Bucklaw,  "let  me  be  thus  far  beholden  to  you, 
that  you  will  beg  my  mother  to  forbear  me  upon  this  sub- 
ject." 

"I  will  make  it  my  particular  entreaty  to  Lady  Ashton," 
said  Bucklaw.  "  By  my  honor,  madam,  I  respect  your  feel- 
ings ;  and,  although  the  prosecution  of  this  affair  be  rendered 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  263 

dearer  to  me  than  evei%  yet,  as  I  am  a  gentleman,  I  would 
renounce  it,  were  it  so  urged  as  to  give  you  a  moment's  pain." 

"Mr.  Hayston,  I  think,  cannot  apprehend  that,"  said 
Lady  Ash  ton,  looking  pale  with  anger,  "  when  the  daughter's 
liappinesB  lieu  in  the  bosom  of  the  mother.  Let  me  ask  you, 
MiSB  Aghton,  in  what  terms  your  last  letter  was  couched  ?" 

*'  Exactly  in  the  same,  madam,"  answered  Lucy,  "  which 
yon  dictated  on  a  former  occasion." 

'*  When  eight  days  have  elapsed,  then,"  said  her  mother, 
''esuming  he''  tone  of  tenderness,  ''we  shall  hope,  my  dearest 
love,  that  you.  will  end  this  suspense." 

**  Miss  Ashtoa  must  not  be  hurried,  madam,"  said  Buck- 
law,  whose  blnutness  of  feeling  did  not  by  any  means  arise 
from  want  of  good-nature  ;  "  messengers  may  be  stopped  or 
delayed.  I  have  known  a  day's  journey  broke  by  the  casting 
of  a  fore-shoe.  Stay,  let  me  see  my  calendar  :  the  twentieth 
day  from  this  is  St.  Jude's,  and  the  day  before  I  must  be  at 
Caverton  Edge,  to  see  the  match  between  the  Laird  of  Kit- 
tlsgirth's  black  mare  and  Johnston  the  meal-monger's  four- 
year-old  colt ;  but  I  can  ride  all  night,  or  Craigie  can  bring 
me  word  how  the  match  goes  ;  and  I  hope,  in  the  mean  time, 
as  I  shall  not  myself  distress  Miss  Asliton  with  any  farther 
importunity,  that  your  ladyship  yourself,  and  Sir  William, 
and  Colonel  Douglas  will  have  the  goodness  to  allow  her 
uninterrupted  time  for  making  up  her  mind." 

'Sir,"  said  Miss  Ashton,  "  you  are  generous." 

"  As  for  that,  madam,"  answered  Bucklaw,  "I  only  pre- 
tend to  be  a  plain,  good-humored  young  fellow,  as  I  said 
before,  who  Avill  willingly  make  you  hapj)y  if  you  will  permit 
him,  and  show  him  how  to  do  so." 

Having  said  this,  he  saluted  her  with  more  emotion  than 
was  consistent  with  his  usual  train  of  feeling,  and  took  his 
leave  ;  Lady  Ashton,  as  she  accompanied  him  out  of  the  apart- 
ment, assuring  him  that  her  daughter  did  full  justice  to  the 
sincerity  of  his  attachment,  and  requesting  him  to  see  Sir 
William  before  his  departure,  "  since,"  as  she  said,  with  a  keen 
glance  reverting  towards  Lucy,  "against  St.  Jude's  day,  we 
must  all  be  ready  to  sign  and  seal," 

"  To  sign  and  seal  ! "  echoed  Lucy  in  a  muttering  tone,  as 
the  door  of  the  apartment  closed — "  to  sign  and  seal — to  do 
and  die  ! "  and,  clasping  her  extenuated  hands  together,  she 
sank  back  on  the  easy-chair  she  occupied,  in  a  state  resembling 
stupor. 

From  this  she  was  shortly  after  awakened  by  the  boisterous 
entrv  of  her  brother  Henry,  who  clamorousl\  reminded  her 


264  WAVERLEY  JSOVELS 

of  a  promise  to  give  him  two  yards  of  carnatiou  ribbon  to 
make  knots  to  his  new  garters.  With  the  most  patient  com- 
posure Lucy  arose,  and  opening  a  little  ivory  cabinet,  sought 
out  the  ribbon  the  lad  wanted,  measured  it  accurately,  cut 
it  oft  into  proper  lengths,  and  knotted  it  into  the  fashion  his 
boyish  wliim  required. 

"  Dinna  shut  the  cabinet  yet,"  said  Henry,  ''for  I  must 
have  some  of  your  silver  wire  to  fasten  the  bells  to  my  hawk's 
jesses, — and  yet  the  new  falcon's  not  worth  them  neither  ; 
for  do  you  know,  after  all  the  plague  we  had  to  get  her  from 
an  eyrie,  all  the  way  at  Posso,  in  Manner  Water,  she's  going 
to  prove,  after  all,  notliing  better  than  a  rifler  :  she  just  wets 
her  singles  in  the  blood  of  the  partridge,  and  then  breaks  away, 
and  lets  her  fly  ;  and  what  good  can  the  poor  bird  do  after 
that,  you  know,  except  pine  and  die  in  the  first  heather-cow 
or  whin-bush  she  can  crawl  into  ?" 

"  Right,  Henry — right — very  right,"  said  Lucy,  mourn- 
fully, holding  the  boy  fast  by  the  hand,  after  she  had  given 
him  the  wire  he  wanted  ;  "  but  there  are  more  riflers  in  the 
world  than  your  falcon,  and  more  wounded  birds  that  seek 
but  to  die  in  quiet,  that  can  find  neither  brake  nor  whin-bush 
to  hide  their  heads  in." 

"  Ah  !  that's  some  speech  out  of  your  romance,"  said  the 
boy  ;  "  and  Sholto  says  they  have  turned  your  head.  But  I 
hear  Norman  whistling  to  the  hawk ;  I  must  go  fasten  on 
the  jesses." 

And  he  scampered  away  with  the  thoughtless  gayety  of 
boyhood,  leaving  his  sister  to  the  bitterness  of  her  own  re- 
flections. 

"  It  is  decreed,"  she  said,  **  that  every  living  creature, 
even  those  who  owe  me  most  kindness,  are  to  shun  me,  and 
leave  me  to  those  by  whom  I  am  beset.  It  is  just  it  should 
be  thus.     Alone  and  uncounselled,  I  involved  myself  in  these 

Serils  :  alone  and  ancounselled,  I  must  extricate  myself  or 
ie." 


CHAPTER  XXX 

What  doth  ensue 
But  moody  and  dull  melancholy, 
Kinsman  to  grim  and  comfortless  despair, 
And,  at  her  heels,  a  huge  infectious  troop 
Of  pale  distemperatures,  and  foes  to  life? 

Comedy  of  Errors. 

A.S  some  vindication  of  the  ease  with  which  Bucklaw  (who 
otherwise,  as  he  termed  himself,  was  really  a  very  good- 
humored  fellow)  resigned  his  judgment  to  the  management 
of  Lady  Ashton,  while  paying  his  addresses  to  her  daughter, 
the  reader  must  call  to  mind  the  strict  domestic  discipline 
which,  at  this  period,  was  exercised  over  the  females  of  a 
Scottish  family. 

The  manners  of  the  country  in  this,  as  in  many  other 
respects,  coincided  with  those  of  France  before  the  Revolu- 
tion. Young  women  of  the  higher  ranks  seldom  mingled  in 
society  until  after  marriage,  and,  both  in  law  and  fact,  were 
held  to  be  under  the  strict  tutelage  of  their  parents,  who 
were  too  apt  to  enforce  tlie  views  for  their  settlement  in  life 
without  paying  any  regard  to  the  inclination  of  the  parties 
chiefly  interested.  On  such  occasions,  the  suitor  expected 
little  more  from  his  bride  than  a  silent  acquiescence  in  the 
will  of  her  parents  ;  and  as  few  opportunities  of  acquaintance, 
far  less  of  intimacy,  occurred,  he  made  his  choice  by  the 
outside,  as  the  lovers  in  the  Merchant  of  Venice  select  the 
casket,  contented  to  trust  to  chance  the  issue  of  the  lottery  in 
which  he  had  hazarded  a  venture. 

It  was  not  therefore  suprising,  such  being  the  general 
manners  of  the  age,  that  Mr.  Hayston  of  Bucklaw,  whom 
dissipated  habits  had  detached  in  some  degree  from  the  best 
society,  should  not  attend  particularly  to  those  feelings  in 
his  elected  bride  to  which  many  men  of  more  sentiment, 
experience,  and  reflection  would,  in  all  probability,  have  been 
equally  indifferent.  He  knew  what  all  accounted  the  princi- 
pal point,  that  her  parents  and  friends,  namely,  were  de- 
cidedly in  his  favor,  and  that  there  existed  most  powerful 
reasons  for  their  predilection. 

see 


266  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

In  truth,  the    conduct  of  the  Marquis  of  A ,  since 

Ravenswood's  departure,  had  been  such  as  almost  to  bar  the 
possibility  of  his  kinsman's  union  with  Lucy  Ashton.  The 
Marquis  was  Ravenswood's  sincere  but  misjudging  friend  ;  or 
rather,  like  many  friends  and  patrons,  he  consulted  what  he 
considered  to  be  his  relation's  true  interest,  although  he  knew 
that  in  doing  so  he  run  counter  to  his  inclinations. 

The  Marquis  drove  on,  therefore,  with  the  plenitude  of 
ministerial  authority,  an  appeal  to  the  British  House  of  Peers 
against  those  judgments  of  the  courts  of  law  by  which  Sir 
William  became  possessed  of  Ravenswood's  hereditary  prop- 
erty. As  this  measure,  enforced  with  all  the  authority  of 
power,  was  new  in  Scottish  judicial  proceedings,  though  now 
so  frequently  resorted  to,  it  was  exclaimed  against  by  the 
lawyers  on  the  opposite  side  of  politics,  as  an  interference 
with  the  civil  judicature  of  the  country,  equally  new,  arbi- 
trary, and  tyrannical.  And  if  it  thus  affected  even  strangers 
connected  with  them  only  by  political  party,  it  may  be  guessed 
what  the  Ashton  family  themselves  said  and  thought  under 
so  gross  a  dispensation.  Sir  William,  still  more  worldly- 
minded  than  he  was  timid,  was  reduced  to  despair  by  the  loss 
by  which  he  was  threatened.  His  son's  haughtier  spirit  was 
exalted  into  rage  at  the  idea  of  being  deprived  of  his  expected 
patrimony.  But  to  Lady  Ashton's  yet  more  vindictive  tem- 
per the  conduct  of  Ravenswood,  or  rather  of  his  patron,  ap- 
peared to  be  an  offence  challenging  the  deepest  and  most  im- 
mortal revenge.  Even  the  quiet  and  confiding  temper  of 
Lucy  herself,  swayed  by  the  opinions  expressed  by  all  around 
her,  could  not  but  consider  the  conduct  of  Ravenswood  as 
precipitate,  and  even  unkind.  "  It  was  my  father,"  she  re- 
peated with  a  sigh,  ''who  welcomed  him  to  this  place,  and 
encouraged,  or  at  least  allowed,  the  intimacy  between  us. 
Should  he  not  have  remembered  this,  and  requited  it  with 
at  least  some  moderate  degree  of  procrastination  in  the  asser- 
tion of  his  own  alleged  rights  ?  I  would  have  forfeited  for 
him  double  the  value  of  these  lands,  which  he  pursues  with 
an  ardor  that  shows  he  has  forgotten  how  much  I  am  impli- 
cated in  the  matter." 

Lucy,  however,  could  only  murmur  these  things  to  her- 
self, unwilling  to  increase  the  prejudices  against  her  lover 
entertained  by  all  around  her,  who  exclaimed  against  the 
steps  pursued  on  his  account  as  illegal,  vexatious,  and  tyran- 
nical, resembling  the  worst  measures  in  the  worst  times  of 
the  worst  Stuarts,  and  a  degradation  of  Scotland,  the  decis- 
ions of  whose  learned  judges  were  thus  subjected  to  the  re- 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  267 

view  of  a  court  composed  indeed  of  men  of  the  higliest  rank, 
but  wlio  were  not  trained  to  the  study  of  any  municipal  law, 
and  might  be  supposed  specially  to  hold  in  contempt  that  of 
Scotland.  As  a  natural  consequence  of  the  alleged  injustice 
meditated  towards  her  father,  every  means  was  resorted  to, 
and  every  argument  urged,  to  induce  Miss  Ashton  to  break 
off  her  engagement  with  Eavenswood,  as  being  scandalous, 
shameful,  and  sinful,  formed  with  the  mortal  enemy  of  her 
family,  and  calculated  to  add  bitterness  to  the  distress  of  her 
parents. 

Lucy's  spirit,  however,  was  high,  and,  although  unaided 
and  alone,  she  could  have  borne  much  :  she  could  have  en- 
dured the  repinings  of  her  father  ;  his  murmurs  against 
what  he  called  the  tyrannical  usage  of  the  ruling  party  ;  his 
ceaseless  charges  of  ingratitude  against  Eavenswood  ;  his 
endless  lectures  on  the  various  means  by  which  contracts  may 
be  voided  and  annulled  ;  his  quotations  from  the  civil,  the 
municipal,  and  the  canon  law  ;  and  his  prelections  upon  the 
patria  potestas. 

She  might  have  borne  also  in  patience,  or  repelled  with 
scorn,  the  bitter  taunts  and  occasional  violence  of  her  brother. 
Colonel  Douglas  Ashton,  and  the  impertinent  and  intrusive 
interference  of  other  friends  and  relations.  But  it  was  be- 
yond her  power  effectually  to  withstand  or  elude  the  con- 
stant and  unceasing  persecution  of  Lady  Ashton,  who,  laying 
every  other  wish  aside,  had  bent  the  whole  efforts  of  her 
powerful  mind  to  break  her  daughter's  contract  with  Eavens- 
wood, and  to  place  a  perpetual  bar  between  the  lovers,  by 
effecting  Lucy's  union  with  Bucklaw.  Far  more  deeply 
skilled  than  her  husband  in  the  recesses  of  the  human  heart, 
she  was  aware  that  in  this  way  she  might  strike  a  blow  of 
deep  and  decisive  vengeance  upon  one  whom  she  esteemed  as 
her  mortal  enemy  ;  nor  did  she  hesitate  at  raising  her  arm, 
although  she  knew  that  the  wound  must  be  dealt  through  the 
bosom  of  her  daughter.  With  this  stern  and  fixed  purpose, 
she  sounded  every  deep  and  shallow  of  her  daughter's  soul, 
assumed  alternately  every  disguise  of  manner  which  could 
serve  her  object,  and  prepared  at  leisure  every  species  of  dire 
machinery  by  which  the  human  mind  can  be  wrenched  from 
its  settled  determination.  Some  of  these  were  of  an  obvious 
description,  and  require  only  to  be  cursorily  mentioned  ; 
others  were  characteristic  of  the  time,  the  country,  and  the 
persons  engaged  in  this  singular  drama. 

It  was  of  the  last  consequence  that  all  intercourse  betwixt 
the   lovers   should   be  stopped,  and,   by   dint   of   gold    and 


368  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

authority.  Lady  Asliton  contrived  to  possess  herself  of  such 
a  complete  command  of  all  who  were  placed  around  her 
daughter,  that,  in  fact,  no  leaguered  fortress  was  ever  more 
completely  blockaded  ;  while,  at  the  same  time,  to  all  out- 
ward appearance  Miss  Ashton  lay  under  no  restriction.  The 
verge  of  her  parents'  domains  became,  in  respect  to  her,  like 
the  viewless  and  enchanted  line  drawn  around  a  fairy  castle, 
where  nothing  unpermitted  can  either  enter  from  without  or 
escape  from  within.  Thus  every  letter,  in  which  Eavens 
wood  conveyed  to  Lucy  Ashton  the  indis2Densable  reasons 
which  detained  him  abroad,  and  more  than  one  note  which 
poor  Lucy  had  addressed  to  him  through  what  she  thought 
a  secure  channel,  fell  into  the  hands  of  her  mother.  It 
could  not  be  but  that  the  tenor  of  these  intercepted  letters, 
especially  those  of  Eavenswood,  should  contain  something  to 
irritate  the  passions  and  fortify  the  obstinacy  of  her  into 
whose  hands  they  fell ;  but  Lady  Ashton's  passions  were  too 
deep-rooted  to  require  this  fresh  food.  She  burnt  the  papers 
as  regularly  as  she  perused  them  ;  and  as  they  consumed  into 
vapor  and  tinder,  regarded  them  with  a  smile  upon  her  com- 
pressed lips,  and  an  exultation  in  her  steady  eye,  which 
showed  her  confidence  that  the  hopes  of  tlie  writers  should 
soon  be  rendered  equally  unsubstantial. 

It  usually  happens  that  fortune  aids  the  machinations  of 
those  who  are  prompt  to  avail  themselves  of  every  chance  that 
offers.  A  report  was  wafted  from  the  continent,  founded,  like 
others  of  the  same  sort,  upon  many  plausible  circumstances, 
but  without  any  real  basis,  stating  the  Master  of  Eavenswood 
to  be  on  the  eve  of  marriage  with  a  foreign  lady  of  fortune  and 
distinction.  This  was  greedily  caught  up  by  both  the  politi- 
cal parties,  who  were  at  once  struggling  for  power  and  for 
popular  favor,  and  who  seized,  as  usual,  upon  the  most  pri- 
vate circumstances  in  the  lives  of  each  other's  partisans  to 
convert  them  into  subjects  of  political  discussion. 

The  Marquis  of  A gave  his  opinion  aloud  and  publiclyj 

not  indeed  in  the  coarse  terms  ascribed  to  him  by  Captain 
Craigengelt,  but  in  a  manner  sufficiently  offensive  to  the 
Ashtons.  *'He  thought  the  report,"  he  said,  *•  highly  prob- 
able, and  heartily  wished  it  might  be  true.  Such  a  match 
was  fitter  and  far  more  creditable  for  a  spirited  young  fellow 
than  a  marriage  with  the  daughter  of  an  old  Whig  lawyer, 
whose  chicanery  had  so  nearly  ruined  his  father." 

The  other  party,  of  course,  laying  out  of  view  the  opposi- 
tion which  the  Master  of  Eavenswood  received  from  Miss 
Ashton's  family,  cried  shame  upon  his  fickleness  and  perfidy. 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  268 

as  if  he  had  seduced  the  young  lady  into  an  engagement,  \.i\\d 
wilfully  and  causelessly  abandoned  her  for  another. 

Sufficient  care  was  taken  that  this  report  should  find  its 
way  to  Ravenswood  Castle  through  every  various  channel, 
Lady  Ashton  being  well  aware  that  the  very  reiteration  of  the 
same  rumor,  from  so  many  quarters,  could  not  but  gv. «  it  a 
semblance  of  truth.  By  some  it  was  told  as  a  piece  of  ordi- 
nary news,  by  some  communicated  as  serious  intelligence  ; 
now  it  was  whispered  to  Lucy  Ashton's  ear  in  the  tone  of 
malignant  pleasantry,  and  now  transmitted  to  her  as  a  matter 
of  grave  and  serious  warning. 

Even  the  boy  Henry  was  made  the  instrument  of  adding 
to  his  sister's  torments.  One  morning  he  rushed  into  the 
room  with  a  willow  branch  in  his  hand,  which  he  told  her  had 
arrived  that  instant  from  Germany  for  her  special  wearing. 
Lucy,  as  we  have  seen,  was  remarkably  fond  of  her  younger 
brother,  and  at  that  moment  his  wanton  and  thoughtless  un- 
kindness  seemed  more  keenly  injurious  than  even  the  studied 
insults  of  her  elder  brother.  Her  grief,  however,  had  no 
shade  of  resentment ;  she  folded  her  arms  about  the  boy's 
neck,  and  saying  faintly,  "  Poor  Henry  !  you  speak  but  what 
they  tell  you,"  she  burst  into  a  flood  of  unrestrained  tears. 
The  boy  was  moved,  notwithstanding  the  thoughtlessness  of 
his  age  and  character.  "  The  devil  take  me,"  said  he,  "  Lucy, 
if  I  fetch  you  any  more  of  these  tormenting  messages  again  ; 
for  I  like  you  better,"  said  he,  kissing  away  the  tears,  "  than 
tlie  whole  pack  of  them  ;  and  you  shall  have  my  gray  pony  to 
ride  on,  and  you  shall  canter  him  if  you  like, — ay,  and  ride 
beyond  the  village  too,  if  you  have  a  mind." 

"  Who  told  you,"  said  Lucy,  "  that  I  am  not  permitted  to 
ride  where  I  please  ?  " 

•*  That's  a  secret,"  said  the  boy  ;  "  but  you  will  find  you 
can  never  ride  beyond  the  village  but  your  horse  will  cast  a 
shoe,  or  fall  lame,  or  the  castle  bell  will  ring,  or  something 
will  happen  to  bring  you  back.  But  if  I  tell  you  more  of 
these  things,  Douglas  will  not  get  me  tlie  pair  of  colors  they 
have  promised  me,  and  so  good-morrow  to  you." 

This  dialogue  plunged  Lucy  in  still  deeper  dejection,  as 
it  tended  to  show  her  plainly  what  she  had  for  some  time  sus- 

Eected,  that  she  was  little  better  than  a  prisoner  at  large  in 
er  father's  house.  We  have  described  her  in  the  outset  of 
our  story  as  of  a  romantic  disposition,  delighting  in  tales  of 
love  and  wonder,  and  really  identifying  herself  with  the  sit- 
uation of  those  legendary  heroines  with  those  adventures, 
for  want  of  better  reading  her  memory  had  become  stocked. 


270  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

The  fairy  wand,  with  which  in  her  solitude  she  had  delighted 
to  raise  visions  of  enchantment,  became  now  the  rod  of  a 
magician,  the  bond  slave  of  evil  genii,  serving  only  to  invoke 
spectres  at  which  the  exorcist  trembled.  She  felt  herself 
the  object  of  suspicion,  of  scorn,  of  dislike  at  least,  if  not  of 
hatred,  to  her  own  family  ;  and  it  seemed  to  her  that  she 
was  abandoned  by  the  very  person  on  whose  account  she  was 
exposed  to  the  enmity  of  all  around  her.  Indeed,  the  evi- 
dence of  Eavenswood's  infidelity  began  to  assume  every  day 
a  more  determined  character. 

A  soldier  of  fortune,  of  the  name  of  Westenho,  an  old 
familiar  of  Craigengelt's,  chanced  to  arrive  from  abroad  about 
this  time.  The  worthy  Captain,  though  without  any  precise 
communication  with  Lady  Ashton,  always  acted  most  regu- 
larly and  sedulously  in  support  of  her  plans,  and  easily  pre- 
vailed upon  his  friend,  by  dint  of  exaggeration  of  real 
circumstances  and  coining  of  others,  to  give  explicit  testi- 
mony to  the  truth  of  Eavenswood's  approaching  marriage. 

Thus  beset  on  all  hands,  and  in  a  manner  reduced  to 
despair,  Lucy's  temper  gave  way  under  the  pressure  of 
constant  affliction  and  persecution.  She  became  gloomy  and 
abstracted,  and,  contrary  to  her  natural  and  ordinary  habit 
of  mind,  sometimes  turned  with  spirit,  and  even  fierceness,  on 
those  by  whom  she  was  long  and  closely  annoyed.  Her 
health  also  began  to  be  shaken,  and  her  hectic  cheek  and 
wandering  eye  gave  symptoms  of  what  is  called  a  fever  upon 
the  spirits.  In  most  mothers  this  would  have  moved  com- 
passion ;  but  Lady  Ashton,  compact  and  firm  of  purpose, 
saw  these  waverings  of  health  and  intellect  with  no  greater 
sympathy  than  that  with  which  the  liostile  engineer  regards 
the  towers  of  a  beleagured  city  as  they  reel  under  the  dis- 
charge of  his  artillery  ;  or  rather,  she  considered  these  starts 
and  inequalities  of  temper  as  symptoms  of  Lucy's  expiring 
resolution  ;  as  the  angler,  by  the  throes  and  convulsive  exer- 
tions of  the  fish  which  he  has  hooked,  becomes  aware  that  he 
soon  will  be  able  to  land  him.  To  accelerate  the  catas- 
trophe in  the  present  case,  Lady  Ashton  had  recourse  to  an 
expedient  very  consistent  with  the  temper  and  credulity  of 
those  times,  but  which  the  reader  wiU  probably  pronounce 
truly  detestable  and  diabolical. 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

In  which  a  witch  did  dwell,  in  loathly  weeds, 

And  wilful  want,  all  careless  of  her  needs  ; 

So  choosing  solitary  to  abide. 

Far  from  all  neighbors,  that  her  devilish  deeds 

And  hellish  arts  from  people  she  might  hide, 

And  hurt  far  off,  unknown,  whome'er  she  envied. 

Faerie  Queene. 

The  health  of  Lucy  Ashton  soon  required  the  assistance  of 
a  person  more  skilful  in  the  office  of  a  sick-nurse  than  the 
female  domestics  of  the  family.  Ailsie  Gourlay,  sometimes 
called  the  Wise  Woman  of  Bowden,  was  the  person  whom, 
for  hei-  own  strong  reasons,  Lady  Ashton  selected  as  an  attend- 
ant upon  her  daughter. 

This  woman  had  acquired  a  considerable  reputation  among 
the  ignorant  by  the  pretended  cures  which  she  performed, 
especially  in  '-oncomes,''  as  the  Scotch  call  them,  or 
mysterious  diseases,  which  baffle  the  regular  physician.  Her 
pharmacopoeia  consisted  partly  of  herbs  selected  in  planetary 
hoars,  partly  of  words,  signs,  and  charms,  which  sometimes, 
perhaps,  produced  a  favorable  influence  upon  the  imagination 
of  her  patients.  Such  was  the  avowed  profession  of  Luckie 
Grourlay,  which,  as  may  well  be  siipposed,  was  looked  upoi: 
with  a  suspicious  eye,  not  only  by  her  neighbors,  but  even  by 
the  clergy  of  the  district.  In  private,  however,  she  traded 
more  deeply  in  the  occult  sciences  ;  for,  notwithstanding  the 
dreadful  punishments  inflicted  upon  the  supposed  crime  of 
witchcraft,  there  wanted  not  those  who,  steeled  by  want  and 
bitterness  of  spirit,  were  willing  to  adopt  the  hateful  and 
dangerous  character,  for  the  sake  of  the  influence  which  its 
terrors  enabled  them  to  exercise  in  the  vicinity,  and  the 
wretched  emolument  which  they  could  extract  by  the  ])ractice 
of  their  supposed  art. 

Ailsie  Gourlay  was  not  indeed  fool  enough  to  acknowledge 
a  compact  with  the  Evil  One,  which  would  have  been  a  swift 
and  ready  road  to  the  stake  and  tar-barrel.  Her  fairy,  she 
said,  like  Caliban's,  was  a  harmless  fairy.  Nevertheless,  she 
**  spaed  fortunes,"  read  dreams,  composed  philters,  discovered 


272  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

stolen  goods,  and  made  and  dissolved  matches  as  successfully 
as  if,  according  to  the  belief  of  the  whole  neighborhood,  she 
had  been  aided  in  those  arts  by  Beelzebub  hipiself.  The 
worst  of  tlie  pretenders  to  these  sciences  was,  that  they  were 
generally  persons  who,  feeling  themselves  odious  to  humanity, 
were  careless  of  what  they  did  to  deserve  the  public  hatred.  Keal 
crimes  were  often  committed  under  pretence  of  magical  im- 
posture ;  and  it  somewhat  relieves  the  disgust  with  which  we 
read,  in  the  criminal  records,  the  conviction  of  these  wretches, 
to  be  aware  that  many  of  them  merited,  as  poisoners,  suborners, 
and  diabolical  agents  in  secret  domestic  crimes,  the  severe 
fate  to  which  they  were  condemned  for  the  imaginary  guilt 
of  witchcraft. 

Such  was  Ailsie  Gourlay,  whom,  in  order  to  attain  the 
absolute  subjugation  of  Lucy  Ashton^s  mind,  her  mother 
thought  it  fitting  to  place  near  her  j)erson.  A  woman  of  less 
consequence  than  Lady  Asliton  had  not  dared  to  take  such  a 
step ;  but  her  high  rank  and  strength  of  character  set  her 
above  the  censure  of  the  world,  and  she  was  allowed  to  have 
selected  for  her  daughter's  attendant  the  best  and  most  ex- 
perienced sick-nurse  and  "^mediciner"  in  the  neighborhood, 
where  an  inferior  person  would  have  fallen  under  the  reproach 
of  calling  in  the  assistance  of  a  partner  and  ally  of  the  great 
Enemy  of  mankind. 

The  beldam  caught  her  cue  readily  and  by  innuendo,  with- 
out giving  Lady  Ashton  the  pain  of  distinct  explanation. 
She  was  in  many  respects  qualified  for  the  part  she  played, 
which  indeed  could  not  be  efficiently  assumed  without  some 
knowledge  of  the  human  heart  and  passions.  Dame  Gourlay 
perceived  that  Lucy  shuddered  at  her  external  appearance, 
which  we  have  already  described  when  we  found  her  in  the 
death-chamber  of  blind  Alice  ;  and  while  internally  she  hated 
the  poor  girl  for  the  involuntary  horror  with  which  she  saw 
she  was  regarded,  she  commenced  her  operations  by  endeav- 
oring to  efface  or  overcome  those  prejudices  which,  in  her 
heart,  she  resented  as  mortal  offences.  This  was  easily  done, 
for  the  hag's  external  ugliness  was  soon  balanced  by  a  show 
of  kindness  and  interest,  to  which  Lucy  had  of  late  been 
little  accustomed  ;  her  attentive  services  and  real  skill  gained 
her  the  ear,  if  not  the  confidence,  of  her  patient ;  and  under 
pretence  of  diverting  the  solitude  of  a  sick-room,  she  soon  led 
her  attention  captive  by  the  legends  in  which  she  was  well 
skilled,  and  to  which  Lucy's  habits  of  reading  and  reflection 
induced  her  to  '^end  an  attentive  ear."  Dame  Gourlay's 
tales  were  at  first  of  a  mild  and  interesting  character — 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR.  278 

Of  fays  that  nightly  dance  upon  the  wold, 
And  lovers  dooni'd  to  wander  and  to  weep, 
And  castles  high,  where  wicked  wizards  keep 
Their  captive  thralls. 

Gradually,  however  they  assumed  a  darker  and  more  mys- 
terious character,  and  became  such  as,  told  by  the  midnight 
lamp,  and  enforced  by  the  tremulous  tone,  the  quivering  and 
livid  lip,  the  uplifted  skinny  forefinger,  and  the  shaking  head 
of  the  blue-eyed  hag,  might  have  appalled  a  less  credulous  im- 
agination in  an  age  more  hard  of  belief.  The  old  Sycorax 
saw  her  advantage,  and  gradually  narrowed  lier  magic  circle 
around  the  devoted  victim  on  whose  spirit  she  practised. 
Her  legends  began  to  relate  to  the  fortunes  of  the  Kavens- 
wood  family,  whose  ancient  grandeur  and  portentoias  author- 
ity credulity  had  graced  with  so  many  superstitions  attributes. 
The  story  of  the  fatal  fountain  was  narrated  at  full  length, 
and  with  formidable  additions,  by  the  ancient  sibyl.  The 
prophecy,  quoted  by  Caleb,  concerning  the  dead  bride  who 
was  to  be  won  by  the  last  of  the  Eavenswoods,  had  its  own 
mysterious  commentary ;  and  the  singular  circumstance  of 
the  apparition  seen  by  the  Master  of  Ravenswood  in  the 
forest,  having  partly  transpired  through  his  hasty  inquiries 
in  the  cottage  of  Old  Alice,  formed  a  theme  for  many  ex- 
aggerations. 

Lucy  might  have  despised  these  tales  if  they  had  been 
related  concerning  another  family,  or  if  her  own  situation 
had  been  less  despondent.  But  circumstanced  as  she  was, 
the  idea  that  an  evil  fate  hung  over  her  attachment  became 
predominant  over  her  other  feelings ;  and  the  gloom  of 
superstition  darkened  a  mind  already  sufficiently  weakened 
by  sorrow,  distress,  uncertainty,  and  an  oppressive  sense  of 
desertion  and  desolation.  Stories  were  told  by  her  attendant 
so  closely  resembling  her  own  in  their  circumstances,  that 
she  was  gradually  led  to  converse  upon  such  tragic  and  mys- 
tical subjects  with  the  beldam,  and  to  repose  a  sort  of  conii- 
dence  in  the  sibyl,  whom  she  still  regarded  with  involuntary 
shuddering.  Dame  Gourlay  knew  how  to  avail  herself  of 
this  imperfect  confidence.  She  directed  Lucy^s  thoughts  to 
the  means  of  inquiring  into  futurity — the  surest  mode,  per- 
haps, of  shaking  the  understanding  and  destroying  the 
spirits.  Omens  were  expounded,  dreams  were  interpreted, 
and  other  tricks  of  jugglery  perhaps  resorted  to,  by  which 
the  pretended  adepts  of  the  period  deceived  and  fascinated 
their  deluded  followers.  I  find  it  mentioned  in  the  articles 
of  dittay  against  Ailsie   Gourlay — for   it   is  some  comfort  to 


374  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

know  that  the  old  hag  was  tried,  condemned,  and  burned  on 
the  top  of  North  Berwick  Law,  by  sentence  of  a  commission 
from  the  privy  council — I  find,  I  say,  it  was  charged  against 
her,  among  other  offences,  that  she  had,  by  the  aid  and 
delusions  of  Satan,  shown  to  a  young  person  of  quality,  in 
a  mirror  glass,  a  gentleman  then  abroad,  to  whom  the  said 
young  person  was  betrotlied,  and  who  appeared  in  the  vision 
to  be  in  the  act  of  bestowing  his  hand  upon  another  lady. 
But  this  and  some  other  parts  of  the  record  appear  to  have 
been,  studiously  left  imperfect  in  names  and  dates,  probably 
out  of  regard  to  the  honor  of  the  families  concerned.  If 
Dame  Gourlay  was  able  actually  to  play  off  such  a  piece 
of  jugglery,  it  is  clear  she  must  have  had  better  assist- 
ance  to  practise  the  deception  than  her  own  skill  or  funds 
could  supply.  Meanwhile,  this  mysterious  visionary  traffic 
had  its  usual  effect  in  unsettling  Miss  Ashton's  mind.  Hei 
temper  became  unequal,  her  health  decayed  daily,  her  man- 
ners grew  moping,  melancholy,  and  uncertain.  Her  father, 
guessing  partly  at  the  cause  of  these  appearances,  and  exert- 
ing a  degree  of  authority  unusual  with  him,  made  a  point 
of  banishing  Dame  Gourlay  from  the  castle  ;  but  the  arrow 
was  shot,  and  was  rankling  barb-deep  in  the  side  of  the 
wounded  deer. 

It  was  shortly  after  the  departure  of  this  woman,  that  Lucy 
Ashton,  urged  by  her  parents,  announced  to  them,  with  a 
vivacity  by  which  they  were  startled,  '^'That  she  was  conscious 
heaven  and  earth  and  hell  had  set  themselves  against  her 
union  with  Ravenswood  ;  still  her  contract,"  she  said,  "was 
a  binding  contract,  and  she  neither  would  nor  could  resign  it 
without  the  consent  of  Ravenswood.  Let  me  be  assured," 
dhe  concluded,  "  that  he  will  free  me  from  my  engagement, 
and  dispose  of  me  as  you  please,  I  care  not  how.  When  the 
diamonds  are  gone,  what  signifies  the  casket  ?" 

The  tone  of  obstinacy  with  which  this  was  said,  her  eyes 
flashing  with  unnatural  light,  and  her  hands  firmly  clinched, 
precluded  the  possibility  of  dispute ;  and  the  utmost  length 
which  Lady  Ashton's  art  could  attain,  only  got  her  the  privi- 
lege of  dictating  the  letter,  by  which  her  daughter  required 
to  know  of  Ravenswood  whether  he  intended  to  abide  by  or 
to  surrender  what  she  termed  "  their  unfortunate  engagement." 
Of  this  advantage  Lady  Ashton  so  far  and  so  ingeniously 
availed  herself  tliat,  according  to  the  wording  of  the  letter, 
the  reader  would  have  supposed  Lucy  was  calling  upon  her  lover 
to  renounce  a  contract  which  was  contrary  to  the  interests  and 
inclinations  of  both.     Not  trusting  even  to  this  point  of  de- 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  275 

ception,  Lady  Asliton  finally  determined  to  suppress  the  let- 
ter altogether,  in  hopes  that  Lucy's  impatience  would  induce 
her  to  condemn  Eavenswood  unheard  and  in  absence.  In  this 
she  was  disappointed.  The  time,  indeed,  had  long  elapsed 
when  an  answer  should  have  been  received  from  the  continent. 
The  faint  ray  of  hoj)e  which  still  glimmered  in  Lucy's  mind 
was  well-nigh  extinguished.  But  the  idea  never  forsook  her 
that  her  letter  might  not  have  been  duly  forwarded.  One  of 
her  mother's  new  machinations  unexpectedly  furnished  her 
with  the  means  of  ascertaining  what  she  most  desired  to  know. 
The  female  agent  of  hell  having  been  dismissed  from  the 
castle,  Lady  Ashton,  who  wrought  by  all  variety  of  means, 
resolved  to  employ,  for  working  the  same  end  on  Lucy's  mind, 
an  agent  of  a  very  different  character.  This  was  no  other 
than  the  Reverend  Mr.  Bide-the-Bent,  a  Presbyterian  clergy- 
man, formerly  mentioned,  of  the  strictest  order  and  the  most 
rigid  orthodoxy,  whose  aid  she  called  in,  upon  the  principle 
of  the  tyrant  in  the  tragedy  : 

I'll  have  a  priest  shall  preach  her  from  her  faith, 
And  make  it  sin  not  to  renounce  that  vow 
Which  I'd  have  broken. 

But  Lady  Ashton  was  mistaken  in  the  agent  she  had  selected . 
His  prejudices,  indeed,  were  easily  enlisted  on  her  side,  and 
it  was  no  difficult  matter  to  make  him  regard  with  hor- 
ror the  prospect  of  a  union  betwixt  the  daughter  of  a  God- 
fearing, professing,  and  Presbytei'ian  family  of  distinction 
and  the  heir  of  a  bloodthirsty  prelatist  and  persecutor,  the 
hands  of  whose  fathers  had  been  dyed  to  the  wrists  in  the 
blood  of  God's  saints.  This  resembled,  in  the  divine's 
opinion,  the  union  of  a  Moabitish  stranger  with  a  daughter 
of  Zion.  But  with  all  the  more  severe  prejudices  and  prin- 
ciples of  his  sect,  Bide-the-Bent  possessed  a  sound  judgment, 
and  had  learned  sympathy  even  in  that  very  school  of  persecu- 
tion where  the  heart  is  so  frequently  hardened.  In  a  private 
interview  with  Miss  Ashton,  he  was  deeply  moved  by  her  dis- 
tress, and  could  not  but  admit  the  justice  of  her  request  to  be 
permitted  a  direct  communication  with  Eavenswood  upon  the 
subject  of  their  solemn  contract.  When  she  urged  to  him 
the  great  uncertainty  under  which  slie  labored  whether  her 
letter  had  been  ever  forwarded,  the  old  man  paced  the  room 
with  long  steps,  shook  his  gray  head,  rested  repeatedly  for  a 
space  on  his  ivory-headed  staff,  and,  after  much  hesitation, 
confessed  that  he  thought  her  doubts  so  reasonable  that  he 
would  himself  aid  in  the  removal  of  them. 


276  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

"1  cannot  but  opine.  Miss  Lucy/' he  said,  ''that  your 
worshipful  lady  mother  hath  in  this  matter  an  eagerness 
whilk,  although  it  ariseth  doubtless  from  love  to  your  best 
interests  here  and  hereafter,  for  the  man  is  of  persecuting 
blood,  and  himself  a  persecutor,  a  Cavalier  or  Malignant,  and 
a  sooifer,  who  hath  no  iuheritance  in  Jesse  ;  nevertheless,  we 
are  commanded  to  do  justice  unto  all,  and  to  fulfil  our  bond 
and  covenant,  as  well  to  the  stranger  as  to  him  who  is  in 
brotherhood  with  us.  Wherefore  myself,  even  I  myself,  will 
be  aiding  unto  the  delivery  of  your  letter  to  the  man  Edgar 
Kavenswood,  trusting  that  the  issue  thereof  may  be  your  de- 
liverance from  the  nets  in  which  he  hath  sinfully  engaged 
you.  And  that  I  may  do  in  this  neither  more  nor  less  than 
hath  been  warranted  by  your  honorable  parents,  I  pray  you  to 
transcribe,  without  increment  or  subtraction,  the  letter  for- 
merly expeded  under  the  dictation  of  your  right  honorable 
mother  ;  and  I  shall  put  it  into  such  sure  course  of  being  de- 
livered, that  if,  honored  young  madam,  you  shall  receive  no 
answer,  it  will  be  necessary  that  you  conclude  that  the  man 
meaneth  in  silence  to  abandon  that  naughty  contract,  which, 
peradventure,  he  may  be  unwilling  directly  to  restore/' 

Lucy  eagerly  embraced  the  expedient  of  the  worthy  divine. 
A  new  letter  was  written  in  the  precise  terms  of  the  former, 
and  consigned  by  Mr.  Bide-the-Beut  to  the  charge  of  Saun- 
ders Moonshine,  a  zealous  elder  of  the  church  when  on  shore, 
and  when  on  board  his  brig  as  bold  a  smuggler  as  ever  ran 
out  a  sliding  bowsprit  to  the  winds  that  blow  betwixt  Camp- 
vere  and  the  east  coast  of  Scotland.  At  the  recommendation 
of  his  pastor,  Saunders  readily  undertook  that  the  letter 
should  be  securely  conveyed  to  the  Master  of  Eavenswood  at 
the  court  where  he  now  resided. 

This  retrospect  became  necessary  to  explain  the  conference 
betwixt  Miss  Ashton,  her  mother,  and  Bucklaw  which  we 
have  detailed  in  a  preceding  chapter. 

Lucy  was  now  like  the  sailor  who,  while  drifting  through 
a  tempestuous  ocean,  clings  for  safety  to  a  single  plank,  his 
powers  of  grasping  it  becoming  every  moment  more  feeble, 
and  the  deep  darkness  of  the  night  only  checkered  by  the 
flashes  of  lightning,  hissing  as  they  show  the  white  tops  of 
the  billow,  in  which  he  is  soon  to  be  ingulfed. 

Week  crept  away  after  week,  and  day  after  day.  St. 
Jude's  day  arrived,  the  last  and  protracted  term  to  which 
Lucy  had"  limited  herself,  and  there  was  neither  letter  nor 
news  of  Ravenswood. 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

How  fair  these  names,  how  much  unlike  they  look 
To  all  the  blurr'd  subscriptions  in  my  book  ! 
The  bridegrooiu's  letters  stand  in  row  above, 
Tapering,  yet  straight,  like  pine  trees  in  his  grove ; 
While  free  and  fine  the  bride's  appear  below, 
A.S  light  and  slender  as  her  jessamines  grow. 

Crabbe. 

St.  JrDE's  day  came,  the  term  assigned  by  Lucy  herself  as 
the  farthest  date  of  expectation,  and,  as  we  have  ah-eady  said, 
there  were  neither  letters  from  nor  news  of  Ravenswood. 
But  there  were  news  of  Bucklaw,  and  of  his  trusty  associate 
Craigengelt,  who  arrived  early  in  the  morning  for  the  com- 
pletion of  the  proposed  espousals,  and  for  signing  the  neces- 
sary deeds. 

These  had  been  carefully  prepared  under  the  revisal  of  Sir 
William  Ashton  himself,  it  having  been  resolved,  on  account 
of  the  state  of  Miss  Ashton's  health,  as  it  was  said,  that  none 
save  the  parties  immediately  interested  should  be  present 
when  the  parchments  were  subscribed.  It  was  farther  deter- 
mined that  the  marriage  should  be  solemnized  upon  the 
fourth  day  after  signing  the  articles,  a  measure  adopted  by 
Lady  Ashton,  in  order  that  Lucy  might  have  as  little  time  as 
possible  to  recede  or  relapse  into  intractability.  There  was 
no  appearance,  however,  of  her  doing  either.  She  heard  the 
proposed  arrangement  with  the  calm  indifference  of  despair, 
or  rather  with  an  apathy  arising  from  the  ojspressed  and 
stupefied  state  of  her  feelings.  To  an  eye  so  unobserving  as 
that  of  Bucklaw,  her  demeanor  had  little  more  of  reluctance 
than  might  suit  the  character  of  a  bashful  young  lady,  who, 
Jiowever,  he  could  not  disguise  from  himself,  was  complying 
with  the  choice  of  her  friends  rather  than  exercising  any 
personal  predilection  in  his  favor. 

When  the  morning  compliments  of  the  bridegroom  had 
been  paid.  Miss  Ashton  was  left  for  some  time  to  herself ; 
her  motlier  remarking,  that  the  deeds  must  be  signed  before 
the  hour  of  noon,  in  order  that  the  marriage  might  be  happy. 

Lucy  suffered  herself  to  be  attired  for  the  occasion  as  the 
taste  of  her  attendants  suggested,  and  was  of  course  splendidly 
arrayed.     Her  dress  was  composed  of  white  satin  and  Brussels 


278  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

lace,  and  her  hair  arranged  with  a  profusion  of  jewels,  whose 
lustre  made  a  strange  contrast  to  the  deadly  paleness  of  her 
complexion,  and  to  the  trouble  which  dwelt  in  her  unsettled 
eye. 

Her  toilette  was  hardly  finished  ere  Henry  appeared,  to 
conduct  the  passive  bride  to  the  state  apartment,  where  all 
was  prepared  for  signing  the  contract.  "Do  you  know,  sis- 
ter," he  said,  "  I  am  glad  you  are  to  have  Bucklaw  after  all, 
instead  of  Eavenswood,  who  looked  like  a  Spanish  grandee 
come  to  cut  our  throats  and  trample  our  bodies  under  foot. 
And  I  am  glad  the  broad  seas  are  between  us  this  day,  for  I 
shall  never  forget  how  frightened  I  was  when  I  took  him  for 
the  picture  of  old  Sir  Malise  walked  out  of  the  canvas.  Tell 
me  true,  are  you  not  glad  to  be  fairly  shot  of  him  ? " 

"  Ask  me  no  questions,  dear  Henry,"  said  his  unfortunate 
sister  ;  "there  is  little  more  can  happen  to  make  me  either 
glad  or  sorry  in  this  world." 

"^A^d  that's  what  all  young  brides  say,"  said  FBnry  ; 
"  and  so  do  not  be  cast  down,  Lucy,  for  you'll  tell  *inother 
tale  a  twelvemonth  hence  ;  and  I  am  to  be  bride's-man,  and 
ride  before  you  to  the  kirk  ;  and  all  our  kith,  kin,  and  allies, 
and  all  Bucklaw's,  are  to  be  mounted  and  in  order  ;  and  lam 
to  have  a  scarlet  laced  coat,  and  a  feathered  hat,  and  a  sword- 
belt,  double  bordered  with  gold,  and  point  d'Espagne,  and  a 
dagger  instead  of  a  sword  ;  and  I  should  like  a  sword  much 
better,  but  my  father  won't  hear  of  it.  All  my  things,  and  a 
hundred  besides,  are  to  come  out  from  Edinburgh  to-night 
with  old  Gilbert  and  the  sumpter  mules  ;  and  I  will  bring 
them  and  show  them  to  you  the  instant  they  come." 

The  boy's  chatter  was  here  interrupted  by  the  arrival  of 
Lady  Ashton,  somewhat  alarmed  at  her  daughter's  stay.  With 
one  of  her  sweetest  smiles,  she  took  Lucy's  arm  under  her 
own,  and  led  her  to  the  apartment  where  her  presence  was 
expected. 

There  were  only  present,  Sir  William  Ashton  and  Colonel 
Douglas  Ashton,  the  last  in  full  regimentals  ;  Bucklaw,  in 
bridegroom  trim  ;  Oraigengelt,  freshly  equipped  from  top  to 
toe  by  the  bounty  of  his  patron,  and  bedizened  with  as  much 
lace  as  might  have  become  the  dress  of  the  Copper  Captain  ; 
together  with  the  Rev.  Mr.  Bide-the-Bent  ;  the  presence  of  a 
minister  being,  in  strict  Presbyterian  families,  an  indispen- 
sable requisite  upon  all  occasions  of  unusual  solemnity. 

Wines  and  refreshments  were  placed  on  a  table,  on  which 
the  writings  were  displayed,  ready  for  signature. 

But  before  proceeding  either  to  bMsiness  or  refreshment. 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  279 

Mr.  Bide-the-Bent,  at  a  signal '  from  Sir  William  Ashton,  in- 
vited the  company  to  join  him  in  a  short  extemporary  prayer, 
in  which  he  implored  a  blessing  upon  the  contract  now  to  be 
solemnized  between  the  honorable  parties  then  present.  With 
the  simplicity  of  his  times  and  profession,  which  permitted 
strong  personal  allusions,  he  petitioned  that  the  wounded 
mind  of  one  of  these  noble  parties  might  be  healed,  in  reward 
of  her  compliance  with  the  advice  of  her  right  honorable 
parents  ;  and  that,  as  she  had  proved  herself  a  child  after  God's 
commandment,  by  hoiioring  her  father  and  mother,  she  and 
hers  might  enjoy  the  promised  blessing — length  of  days  m 
the  land  here,  and  a  happy  portion  hereafter  in  a  better  coun- 
try. He  prayed  farther,  that  the  bridegroom  might  be 
weaned  from  those  follies  which  seduce  youth  from  the  path 
of  knowledge ;  that  he  might  cease  to  take  delight  in  vain 
and  unprofitable  company,  scoffers,  rioters,  and  those  who  sit 
late  at  the  wine  (here  Bucklaw  winked  to  Craigengelt),  and 
cease  from  the  society  that  causeth  to  err.  A  suitable  suppli- 
cation in  behalf  of  Sir  William  and  Lady  Ashton  and  their 
family  concliidel  this  religious  address,  which  thus  embraced 
every  individual  present  excepting  Craigengelt,  whom  the 
worthy  divine  prolsably  considered  as  past  all  hopes  of  grace. 

The  business  of  the  day  now  went  forward  :  Sir  William 
Ashton  signed  the  contract  with  legal  solemnity  and  precision  ; 
his  son,  with  military  nonchalance  ;  and  Bucklaw,  having 
subscribed  as  rapidly  as  Craigengelt  could  manage  to  turn  the 
leaves,  concluded  by  wiping  his  pen  on  that  worthy's  new 
laced  cravat. 

It  was  now  Miss  Ashton's  turn  to  sign  the  writings,  and 
she  was  guided  by  her  watchful  mother  to  the  table  for  that 
purpose.  At  her  first  attempt,  she  began  to  write  with  a  dry 
pen,  and  when  the  circumstance  was  pointed  out,  seemed 
unable,  after  several  attempts,  to  dip  it  in  the  massive  silver 
ink-standish,  which  stood  full  before  her.  Lady  Ashton's 
vigilance  hastened  to  supply  the  deficiency.  I  have  myself 
seen  the  fatal  deed,  and  in  tlie  distinct  characters  in  which 
the  name  of  Lucy  Ashton  is  traced  on  each  page  there  is  only 
a  very  sliglit  tremulous  irregularity,  indicative  of  her  state  of 
mind  at  tiie  time  of  the  subscription.  But  the  last  signature 
is  incomplete,  defaced,  and  blotted  ;  for,  while  her  hand  was 
employed  in  tracing  it,  the  hasty  tramp  of  a  horse  was  heard 
at  the  gate,  succeeded  by  a  step  in  the  outer  gallery,  and  a 
voice  which,  in  a  commanding  tone,  bore  down  the  opposi- 
tion of  the  menials.  The  pen  dropped  from  Lucy's  fingers, 
as  she  exclaimed  with  a  faint  shriek — "He  is  come — he  is 
come !  '* 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

This  by  his  tongue  should  be  a  Montague  I 
Fetch  me  my  rapier,  boy  ; 
Now,  by  the  faith  and  lionor  of  my  kin. 
To  strike  him  dead  I  hold  it  not  a  sin. 

Romeo  and  Juliet. 

Hardly  had  Miss  Ashton  dropped  the  pen,  when  the  dooi 
of  the  apartment  flew  open,  and  the  Master  of  Eavenswood 
entered  the  apartment. 

Lockhard  and  another  domestic,  who  had  in  vain  attempted 
to  oppose  his  passage  through  the  gallery  or  antechamber, 
were  seen  standing  on  the  threshold  transfixed  with  surprise, 
which  was  instantly  communicated  to  the  whole  party  in  the 
state-room.  That  of  Colonel  Douglas  Ashton  was  mingled 
Avith  resentment ;  that  of  Bucklaw  with  iiaughty  and  affected 
indifference ;  the  rest,  even  Lady  Ashton  herself,  showed 
signs  of  fear ;  and  Lucy  seemed  stiffened  to  stone  by  this  un- 
expected apparition.  Apparition  it  might  well  be  termed,  for 
Ravenswood  had  more  the  appearance  of  one  returned  from 
the  dead  than  of  a  living  visitor. 

He  planted  himself  full  in  the  middle  of  the  apartment, 
opposite  to  the  table  at  which  Lucy  was  seated,  on  whom,  as 
if  she  had  been  alone  in  the  chamber,  he  bent  his  eyes  with  a 
mingled  expression  of  deep  grief  and  deliberate  indignation. 
His  dark-colored  riding  cloak,  displaced  from  one  shoulder, 
hung  around  one  side  of  his  person  in  the  ample  folds  of  the 
Spanish  mantle.  The  rest  of  his  rich  dress  was  travel-soiled, 
and  deranged  by  hard  riding.  He  had  a  sword  by  his  side, 
and  pistols  in  his  belt.  His  slouched  hat,  which  he  had  not 
removed  at  entrance,  gave  an  additional  gloom  to  his  dark 
features,  which,  wasted  by  sorrow  and  marked  by  the  ghastly 
look  communicated  by  long  illness,  added  to  a  countenance 
naturally  somewhat  stern  and  wild  a  fierce  and  even  savage 
expression.  The  matted  and  dishevelled  locks  of  hair  which 
escaped  from  under  his  hat,  together  with  his  fixed  and  un- 
moved posture,  made  his  head  more  resemble  that  of  a  marble 
bust  than  that  of  a  living  man.  He  said  not  a  single  word, 
and  there  was  a  deep  silence  in  the  company  for  more  than 

two  minutes. 

880 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  281 

It  was  broken  by  Lady  Asliton,  wlio  in  tliat  space  partly 
recovered  her  natural  audacity.  She  demanded  to  know  the 
cause  of  this  unauthorized  intrusion. 

"  That  is  a  question,  madam,"  said  lier  son,  "  which  I  have 
the  best  right  to  ask  ;  and  1  must  request  of  the  Master  of 
Ravenswood  to  follow  me  where  he  can  answer  it  at  leisure." 

Bucklaw  interposed,  saying,  "No  man  on  earth  should 
usurp  his  previous  right  in  demanding  an  explanation  from 
the  Master.  Craigeugelt,"  he  added,  in  an  undertone,  "  d — n 
ye,  why  do  you  stand  staring  as  if  you  saw  a  ghost  ?  fetch  me 
my  sword  from  the  g-allery. '' 

''I  will  relinquisli  to  none,"  said  Colonel  Ashton,  "my 
right  of  calling  to  account  the  man  who  has  offered  this  un- 
paralleled affront  to  my  family." 

"  Be  patient,  gentlemen,"  said  Ravenswood,  turning  stern- 
ly towards  them,  and  waving  his  hand  as  if  to  impose  silence 
on  their  altercation.  "  If  yoii  are  as  weary  of  your  lives  as  I 
am,  I  will  find  time  and  place  to.  pledge  mine  against  one  or 
both;  at  present,  I  have  noleisurefor  the  disputes  of  triflers." 

"Triflers  !"  echoed  Colonel  Ashton,  half  unsheathing  his 
sword,  while  Bucklaw  laid  his  hand  on  the  hilt  of  that  which 
Craigengelt  had  just  reached  him. 

Sir  William  Ashton,  alarmed  for  his  son's  safety,  rushed 
between  the  young  men  and  Ravenswood,  exclaiming,  "My 
son,  I  command  you — Bucklaw,  I  entreat  you — keep  the  peace, 
in  the  name  of  the  Queen  and  of  the  law  ! " 

"  In  the  name  of  the  law  of  God,"  said  Bide-the-Bent, 
advancing  also  with  ujilifted  hands  between  Bucklaw,  the 
Colonel,  and  the  object  of  their  resentment — ''in  the  name 
of  Him  who  brought  peace  on  earth  and  good-will  to  man- 
kind, I  implore — I  beseech — I  command  you  to  forbear  vio- 
lence towards  each  other  !  God  hatetli  the  bloodtliirsty  man  ; 
he  who  striketh  with  the  sword  shall  perish  with  the  sword." 

"Do  you  take  me  for  a  dog,  sir,"  said  Colonel  Ashton, 
turning  fiercely  upon  him,  "  or  something  more  brutally 
stupid,  to  endure  this  insult  in  my  father's  house  ?  Let  me 
go,  Bucklaw  !  He  shall  account  to  me,  or,  by  Heaven,  I  will 
stab  him  where  he  stands  ! " 

"  You  shall  not  touch  him  here,"  said  Bucklaw  ;  "  he  once 
gave  me  my  life,  and  were  he  the  devil  come  to  fly  away  with 
the  whole  house  and  generation,  he  shall  have  nothing  but 
fair  play." 

The  passions  of  the  two  young  men  thus  counteractiiig 
each  other  gave  Ravenswood  leisure  to  exchiim.  in  a  stern  and 
steady  voice,  "  Silence  !— let  him  who  really  seeks  danger  take 


iB2  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

the  fitting  time  when  it  is  to  be  found  ;  my  mission  here 
will  be  shortly  accomplished.  Is  that  your  handwriting, 
madam  ? "  he  added  in  a  softer  tone,  extending  towards  Misa 
Ashton  her  last  letter. 

A  faltering  "  Yes^'  seemed  rather  to  escape  from  her  lips 
than  to  be  uttered  as  a  voluntary  answer. 

"  And  is  this  also  your  handwriting  ?  *'  extending  towards 
her  the  mutual  engagement. 

Lucy  remained  silent.  Terror,  and  a  yet  stronger  and 
more  confused  feeling,  so  utterly  disturbed  her  understanding 
that  she  probably  scarcely  comprehended  the  question  that 
was  put  to  her. 

"  If  you  design,"  said  Sir  William  Ashton,  "  to  found  any 
legal  claim  on  that  paper,  sir,  do  not  expect  to  receive  any 
answer  to  an  extrajudicial  question." 

"  Sir  William  Ashton,"  said  Ravenswood,  *'  I  pray  you, 
and  all  who  hear  me,  that  you  will  not  mistake  my  purpose. 
If  this  young  lady,  of  her  ov/n  free  will,  desires  the  restora- 
tion of  this  contract,  as  her  letter  would  seem  to  imply,  there 
is  not  a  withered  leaf  which  this  autumn  wind  strews  on  the 
heath  that  is  more  valueless  in  my  eyes.  But  I  must  and 
will  hear  the  truth  from  her  own  mouth  ;  without  this  satis- 
faction I  will  not  leave  this  spot.  Murder  me  by  numbers 
you  possibly  may  ;  but  I  am  an  armed  man — I  am  a  desperate 
man,  and  I  will  not  die  without  ample  vengeance.  This  is 
my  resolution,  take  it  as  you  may.  I  v^^ill  hear  her  deter- 
mination from  her  own  mouth  ;  from  her  own  mouth,  alone, 
and  without  witnesses,  will  I  hear  it.  Now,  choose,"  he  said, 
drawing  his  sword  with  the  right  hand,  and,  with  the  left, 
by  the  same  motion  taking  a  pistol  from  his  belt  and  cocking 
it,  but  turning  the  point  of  one  weapon  and  the  muzzle  of 
the  other  to  the  ground — "choose  if  you  will  have  this  hall 
floated  with  blood,  or  if  you  will  grant  me  the  decisive  in- 
terview with  ray  affianced  bride  which  the  laws  of  God  and 
the  country  alike  entitle  me  to  demand." 

All  recoiled  at  the  sound  of  his  voice  and  the  determined 
action  by  which  it  was  accompanied  ;  for  the  ecstasy  of  real 
desperation  seldom  fails  to  overpower  the  less  energetic 
passions  bv  which  it  mav  be  opposed.  The  clergyman  was 
the  first  to  speak.  "  In^the  name  of  God,"  he  said,  "receive 
an  overture  of  peace  from  the  meanest  of  His  servants. 
What  this  honorable  person  demands,  albeit  it  is  urged  with 
over  violence,  hath  yet  in  it  something  of  reason.  Let  him 
hear  from  Miss  Lucy's  own  lips  tliat  she  hath  dutifully 
acceded  to  the  will  of  her  parents,  and  repenteth  her  of  her 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  283 

covenant  with  him ;  and  when  he  is  assured  of  this  he  will  de- 
part in  peace  unto  his  own  dwelling,  and  cumber  us  no  more. 
Alas !  the  workings  of  the  ancient  Adam  are  strong  even  in 
the  regenerate  ;  surely  we  should  have  long-suffering  with 
those  who,  being  yet  in  the  gall  of  bitterness  and  bond  of 
iniquity,  are  swept  forward  by  the  uncontrollable  current  of 
worldly  passion.  Let,  then,  the  Master  of  Ravenswood  have 
the  interview  on  which  he  insisteth  ;  it  can  but  be  as  a  passing 
pang  to  this  honorable  maiden,  since  her  faith  is  now  irrevo- 
cably pledged  to  the  choice  of  her  parents.  Let  it,  I  say, 
be  thus  :  it  belongeth  to  my  functions  to  entreat  your  honors' 
compliance  with  this  healing  overture." 

"  Never ! "  answered  Lady  Ashton,  whose  rage  had  now 
overcome  her  first  surprise  and  horror — "  never  shall  this  man 
speak  in  private  with  my  daughter,  the  affianced  bride  of 
another  !  Pass  from  this  room  who  will,  I  remain  here.  I 
fear  neither  his  violence  nor  his  weapons,  though  some,"  she 
said,  glancing  a  look  towards  Colonel  Ashton,  "who  bear  my 
name  appear  more  moved  by  them." 

"  For  God's  sake,  madam,"  answered  the  worthy  divine, 
"  add  not  fuel  to  firebrands.  The  Master  of  Eavenswood 
cannot,  I  am  sure,  object  to  your  presence,  the  young  lady's 
state  of  health  being  considered,  and  your  maternal  duty.  I 
myself  will  also  tarry  ;  peradventure  my  gray  hairs  may  turn 
away  wrath." 

"  You  are  welcome  to  do  so,  sir,"  said  Eavenswood  ; 
"  and  Lady  Ashton  is  also  welcome  to  remain,  if  she  shall 
think  proper  ;  but  let  all  others  depart." 

"  Ravenswood,"  said  Colonel  Ashton,  crossing  him  as  he 
went  out,  "  you  shall  account  for  this  ere  long." 

"  When  you  please,"  replied  Ravenswood. 

"  But  I,"  said  Bucklaw  with  a  half  smile,  ''have  a  prior 
demand  on  your  leisure,  a  claim  of  some  standing." 

"  Arrange  it  as  you  will,"  said  Ravenswood  ;  "  leave  me  but 
this  day  in  peace,  and  I  will  have  no  dearer  employment  on 
earth  to-morrow  than  to  give  you  all  the  satisfaction  you  can 
desire." 

The  other  gentlemen  left  the  apartment ;  but  Sir  William 
Ashton  lingered. 

''Master  of  Ravenswood,"  he  said,  in  a  conciliating  tone, 
"  I  think  I  have  not  deserved  that  you  should  make  this  scan- 
dal and  outrage  in  my  family.  If  you  will  sheathe  your  sword, 
and  retire  with  me  into  my  study,  I  will  prove  to  you,  by  the 
most  satisfactory  arguments,  the  inutility  of  your  present 
irregular  procedure " 


284  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

"  To-morrow,  sir — to-morrow — to-morrow,  I  will  hear  you 
at  length,"  reiterated  Ravenswood,  interrupting  him;  '*  this 
day  hath  its  own  sacred  and  indispensable  business." 

He  pointed  to  the  door,  and  Sir  William  left  the  apart- 
ment. 

Ravenswood  sheathed  his  sword,  uncocked  and  returned 
his  pistol  to  his  belt ;  walked  deliberately  to  the  door  of  the 
apartment,  which  he  bolted  ;  returned,  raised  his  hat  from 
his  forehead,  and,  gazing  upon  Lucy  with  eyes  in  which  an 
expression  of  sorrow  overcame  their  late  fierceness,  spread  his 
dishevelled  locks  back  from  his  face,  and  said,  "Do  you  know 
me.  Miss  Ashton  ?  I  am  still  Edgar  Ravenswood."  She  was 
silent,  and  he  went  on  with  increasing  vehemence — "lam 
still  that  Edgar  Ravenswood  who,  for  your  affection,  re- 
nounced the  dear  ties  by  which  injured  honor  bound  him  to 
seek  vengeance.  I  am  that  Ravenswood  who,  for  your  sake, 
forgave,  nay,  clasped  hands  in  friendship  with,  the  oppressor 
and  pillager  of  his  house,  the  traducer  and  murderer  of  his 
father." 

''My  daughter,"  answered  Lady  Ashton,  interrupting 
him,  ''has  no  occasion  to  dispute  the  identity  of  your  person  ; 
the  venom  of  your  present  language  is  sufficient  to  remind  her 
that  she  speaks  with  the  mortal  enemy  of  her  father." 

"I  pray  you  to  be  patient,  madam,"  answered  Ravens- 
wood; "my  answer  must  come  from  her  own  lips.  Once 
more.  Miss  Lucy  Ashton,  I  am  that  Ravenswood  to  whom  you 
granted  the  solemn  engagement  which  you  now  desire  to  re- 
tract and  cancel." 

Lucy's  bloodless  lips  could  only  falter  out  the  words,  "It 
was  my  mother." 

"  She  speaks  truly,"  said  Lady  Ashton,  "  it  was  I  who,  au- 
thorized alike  by  the  laws  of  God  and  man,  advised  her,  and 
concurred  with  her,  to  set  aside  an  unhappy  and  precipitate 
engagement,  and  to  annul  it  by  the  authority  of  Scripture 
itself." 

"  Scripture  !"  said  Ravenswood,  scornfully. 

"  Let  him  hear  the  text,"  said  Lady  Ashton,  appealing 
to  the  divine,  "  on  which  you  yourself,  with  cautious  reluc- 
tance, declared  the  nullity  of  the  pretended  engagement  in- 
sisted upon  by  this  violent  man." 

The  clergyman  took  his  clasped  Bible  from  his  pocket, 
and  read  the  following  words  :  "  If  a  woman  vow  a  vow  unto 
the  Lord,  and  bind  herself  by  a  bond,  being  in  her  father's 
house  in  her  youth,  and  her  father  hear  her  vow,  and  her  bond 
\k'herewith  she  hath  bound  her  soul,  and  her  father  shall  hold 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  285 

his  peace  at  her  ;   tlieii  all  her  vows  shall  stand,  and  every 
vow  wherewith  she  hath  bound  her  soul  shall  stand." 

"  And  was  it  not  even  so  with  us  ?"  interrupted  Eavens- 
wood. 

"  Control  thy  impatience,  young  man,"  answered  the 
divine,  "  and  hear  what  follows  in  the  sacred  text :  'But  if 
her  father  disallow  her  in  the  day  that  he  heareth,  not  any  of 
her  vows,  or  of  her  bonds  wherewith  she  hath  bound  her  soul, 
shall  stand  ;  and  the  Lord  shall  forgive  her,  because  her  father 
disallowed  her/  " 

''And  was  not,"  said  Lady  Ashton,  fiercely  and  trium- 
pliantly  breaking  in — "  was  not  ours  the  case  stated  in  the 
Holy  Writ  ?  AVill  this  person  deny,  that  the  instant  her 
parents  heard  of  the  vow,  or  bond,  by  which  our  daughter  had 
bound  her  soul,  we  disallowed  the  same  in  the  most  express 
terms,  and  informed  him  by  writing  of  our  determination  ?" 

"  And  is  this  all  ?  "  said  Eavenswood,  looking  at  Lucy. 
"  Are  you  willing  to  barter  sworn  faith,  the  exercise  of  free 
will,  and  the  feelings  of  mutual  affection  to  this  wretched 
hypocritical  sophistry  ?  " 

"Hear  him  \"  said  Lady  Ashton,  looking  to  the  clergy- 
man— "■  hear  the  blasphemer  ! " 

"  May  God  forgive  him,"  said  Bide-the-Bent,  ''  and  en- 
lighten his  ignorance  ! " 

"  Hear  what  I  have  sacrificed  for  you,"  said  Eavenswood, 
still  addressing  Lucy,  "ere  you  sanction  wliat  has  been  done 
in  your  name.  The  honor  of  an  ancient  family,  the  urgent 
advice  of  my  best  friends,  have  been  in  vain  used  to  sway  my 
resolution  ;  neither  the  arguments  of  reason  nor  the  portents 
of  superstition  have  shaken  my  fidelity.  The  very  dead  have 
arisen  to  warn  me,  and  their  warning  has  been  despised.  Are 
you  prepared  to  pierce  my  heart  for  its  fidelity  with  the  very 
weapon  which  my  rash  confidence  intrusted  to  your  grasp  '^'* 

"  Master  of  Eavenswood,"  said  Lady  Ashton,  "you  have 
asked  what  questions  you  thought  fit.  You  see  the  total 
incapacity  of  my  daughter  to  answer  you.  But  I  will  reply  for 
her,  and  in  a  manner  which  you  cannot  dispute.  You  desire 
to  know  whether  Lucy  Ashton,  of  her  own  free  will,  desires 
to  annul  the  engagement  into  which  she  has  been  trepanned. 
You  have  her  letter  under  her  OAvn  hand,  demanding  the 
surrender  of  it ;  and,  in  yet  more  full  evidence  of  her  pur- 
pose, here  is  the  contract  which  she  has  this  morning  sub- 
scribed, in  presence  of  this  reverend  gentleman,  with  Mr. 
Hayston  of  Bucklaw." 

Eavenswood  gazed  upon  the  deed  as  if  petrified.     "And 


386  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

it  was  "withont  fraud  or  compulsion,"  said  he^  looking  towards 
the  clergyman,  "  that  Miss  Asliton  subscribed  this  parch- 
ment ?" 

"  I  vouch  it  upon  my  sacred  character." 

"  This  is  indeed,  madam,  an  undeniable  piece  of  evi- 
dence," said  Ravenswood,  sternly;  "and  it  wiU  be  equally 
unnecessary  and  dishonorable  to  waste  another  word  in  use- 
less remonstrance  or  reproach.  There,  madam,"  he  said, 
laying  down  before  Lucy  the  signed  paper  and  the  broken 
piece  of  gold — "  there  are  the  evidences  of  your  first  engage- 
ment ;  may  you  be  more  faithful  to  that  which  you  have 
just  formed.  I  will  trouble  vou  to  return  the  corresponding 
tokens  of  my  ill-placed  confidence  ;  I  ought  rather  to  say,  of 
my  egregious  folly." 

Lucy  returned  the  scornful  glance  of  her  lover  with  a 
gaze  from  which  perception  seemed  to  have  been  banished ; 
yet  she  seemed  partly  to  have  understood  his  meaning,  for 
she  raised  her  hands  as  if  to  undo  a  blue  ribbon  which  she 
wore  around  her  neck.  She  was  unable  to  accomplish  her 
purpose,  but  Lady  Ashton  cut  the  ribbon  asunder,  and  de- 
tached the  broken  piece  of  gold,  which  Miss  Ashton  had  till 
then  worn  concealed  in  her  bosom ;  the  written  counterpart 
of  the  lovers'  engagement  she  for  some  time  had  had  in  her 
own  possession.  With  a  haughty  courtesy,  she  delivered 
both  to  Ravenswood,  who  was  much  softened  when  he  took 
the  piece  of  gold. 

"  And  she  could  wear  it  thus,"  he  said,  speaking  to  him- 
self— "  could  wear  it  in  her  very  bosom — could  wear  it  next  to 

her  heart — even  when But  complaint  avails  not,"  he 

said,  dashing  from  his  eye  the  tear  which  had  gathered  in  it, 
and  resuming  the  stern  composure  of  his  manner.  He  strode 
to  the  chimney,  and  threw  into  the  fire  the  paper  and  piece 
of  gold,  stamping  upon  the  coals,  with  the  heel  of  his  boot; 
as  if  to  insure  their  destruction.  "I  will  be  no  longer,"  he 
then  said,  "  an  intruder  here.  Your  evil  wishes,  and  your 
worse  offices.  Lady  Ashton,  I  will  only  return  by  hoping  these 
will  be  your  last  machinations  against  your  daughter's  honor 
and  happiness.  And  to  you,  madam,"  he  said,  addressing 
Lucy,  ''  I  have  nothing  farther  to  say,  except  to  pray  to  God 
that  you  may  not  become  a  world's  wonder  for  this  act  of 
wilful  and  deliberate  perjury."  Having  uttered  these  words, 
he  turned  on  his  heel  and  left  the  apartment. 

Sir  William  Ashton,  by  entreaty  and  authority,  had  de- 
tained his  son  and  Bucklaw  in  a  distant  part  of  the  castle,  in 
order  to  prevent  their  again  meeting  with  Ravenswood  ;  but 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  287 

as  the  Master  devsceiided  the  great  staircase,  Lockhard  de- 
livered him  a  billet,  signed  "Sholto  Douglas  Ashton/'  re- 
questing to  know  where  the  Master  of  Ravenswood  would  be 
heard  of  four  or  five  days  from  hence,  as  the  writer  had  busi- 
ness of  weight  to  settle  with  him,  so  soon  as  an  important 
family  event  had  taken  place. 

"  Tell  Colonel  Ashton,"  said  Eavenswood,  composedly, 
"I  shall  be  found  at  Wolf's  Crag  when  his  leisure  serves 
him/' 

As  he  descended  the  outward  stair  which  led  from  the 
terrace,  he  was  a  second  time  interrupted  by  Craigengelt, 
who,  on  the  part  of  his  principal,  the  Laird  of  Bucklaw,  ex- 
pressed a  hope  that  Eavenswood  would  not  leave  Scotland 
within  ten  days  at  least,  as  he  had  both  former  and  recent 
civilities  for  which  to  express  his  gratitude. 

"Tell  your  master,"  said  Eavenswood,  fiercely,  "to 
choose  his  own  time.  He  will  find  me  at  Wolf's  Crag,  if  his 
purpose  is  not  forestalled." 

"My  master  !"  replied  Craigengelt,  encouraged  by  seeing 
Colonel  Ashton  and  Bucklaw  at  the  bottom  of  the  terrace. 
"  Give  me  leave  to  say  I  know  of  no  such  person  upon  earth, 
nor  will  I  permit  such  language  to  be  used  to  me  ! " 

"  Seek  your  master,  then,  in  hell !  "  exclaimed  Eavens- 
wood, giving  way  to  the  passion  he  had  hitherto  restrained, 
and  throwing  Craigengelt  from  him  with  such  violence  that 
he  rolled  down  the  steps  and  lay  senseless  at  the  foot  of  them. 
"  I  am  a  fool,"  he  instantly  added,  "  to  vent  my  passion  upon 
a  caitiff  so  worthless." 

He  then  mounted  his  horse,  which  at  his  arrival  he  had 
secured  to  a  balustrade  in  front  of  the  castle,  rode  very  slowly 
past  Bucklaw  and  Colonel  Ashton,  raising  his  hat  as  he  passed 
each,  and  looking  in  their  faces  steadily  while  he  offered  this 
mute  salutation,  which  was  returned  by  both  with  the  same 
stern  gravity.  Ravenswood  walked  on  with  equal  delibera- 
tion until  he  reached  the  head  of  the  avenue,  as  if  to  show 
that  he  rather  courted  than  avoided  interruption.  When  he 
had  passed  the  upper  gate,  he  turned  his  horse,  and  looked 
at  the  castle  with  a  fixed  eye  ;  then  set  spurs  to  his  good 
steed,  and  departed  with  the  speed  of  a  demon  dismissed  by 
the  exorcist. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 

Who  comes  from  the  bridal  chamber? 
It  is  Azrael,  the  angel  of  death. 

TTialaba. 

After  the  dreadful  scene  that  had  taken  place  at  the  castle, 
Lncy  was  transported  to  her  own  chamber^,  where  she  re- 
mained for  some  time  in  a  state  of  absolute  stupor.  Yet 
afterwards,  in  the  course  of  the  ensuing  day,  she  seemed  to 
have  recovered,  not  merely  her  spirits  and  resolution,  but  a 
sort  of  flighty  levity,  that  was  foreign  to  her  character  and 
situation,  and  which  was  at  times  checkered  by  fits  of  deep 
silence  and  melancholy,  and  of  capricious  pettishness.  Lady 
Ashton  became  much  alarmed,  and  consulted  the  family 
physicians.  But  as  her  pulse  indicated  no  change,  they  could 
only  say  that  tlie  disease  was  on  the  spirits,  and  recommended 
gentle  exercise  and  amusement.  Miss  Ashton  never  alluded 
to  what  had  passed  in  the  state-room.  It  seemed  doubtful 
even  if  she  was  conscious  of  it,  for  slie  was  often  observed  to 
raise  her  hands  to  her  neck,  as  if  in  search  of  the  ribbon  that 
had  been  taken  from  it,  and  mutter,  in  surprise  and  discon- 
tent, when  she  could  not  find  it,  "  It  Avas  the  link  that  bound 
me  to  life." 

Notwithstanding  all  these  remarkable  symptoms.  Lady 
Ashton  was  too  deeply  pledged  to  delay  her  daughter's  mar- 
riage even  in  her  present  state  of  health.  It  cost  her  much 
trouble  to  keep  up  the  fair  side  of  appearances  towards  Buck- 
law.  She  was  well  aware,  that  if  he  once  saw  any  reluctance 
on  her  daughter's  part,  he  would  break  off  the  treaty,  to  her 
great  personal  shame  and  dishonor.  She  therefore  resolved 
that,  if  Lucy  continued  passive,  the  marriage  should  take  place 
upon  the  day  that  had  been  previously  fixed,  trusting  that  a 
change  of  place,  of  situation,  and  of  character  would  operate 
a  more  speedy  and  effectual  cure  upon  the  unsettled  spirits  of 
her  daughter  than  could  be  attained  by  the  slow  measures 
which  the  medical  men  recommended.  Sir  William  Ashton's 
views  of  family  aggrandizement,  and  his  desire  to  strengthen 

himself  against  the  measures  of  the  Marquis  of  A ,  readily 

induced  hira  to  acquiesce  in  what  he  could  not  have  perhaps 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  289 

resisted  if  willing  to  do  so.  As  for  the  young  men,  Bucklaw 
and  Colonel  Ashton,  they  protested  that,  after  what  had  hap- 
pened, it  would  be  most  dishonorable  to  postpone  for  a  single 
hour  the  time  appointed  for  the  marriage,  as  it  would  be  gen- 
erally ascribed  to  their  being  intimidated  by  the  intrusive 
visit  and  threats  of  Ravenswood. 

Backlaw  would  indeed  have  been  incapable  of  such  pre- 
cipitation, had  he  been  aware  of  the  state  of  Miss  Ashton's 
health,  or  rather  of  her  mind.  But  custom,  upon  these 
occasions,  permitted  only  brief  and  sparing  intercourse 
between  the  bridegroom  and  the  betrothed,  a  circumstance 
so  well  improved  by  Lady  Ashton,  that  Bucklaw  neither  saw 
nor  suspected  the  real  state  of  the  health  and  feelings  of  his 
unhappy  bride. 

On  the  eve  of  the  bridal  day,  Lucy  appeared  to  have  one 
of  her  fits  of  levity,  and  surveyed  with  a  degree  of  girlish 
interest  the  various  preparations  of  dress,  etc.,  etc.,  which 
the  different  members  of  the  family  had  prepared  for  the 
occasion. 

The  morning  dawned  bright  and  cheerily.  The  bridal 
guests  assembled  in  gallant  troops  from  distant  quarters. 
Not  only  the  relations  of  Sir  William  Ashton,  and  the  still 
more  dignified  connections  of  his  lady,  together  with  the 
numerous  kinsmen  and  allies  of  the  bridegroom,  were  present 
upon  this  joyful  ceremony,  gallantly  mounted,  arrayed,  and 
caparisoned,  but  almost  every  Presbyterian  family  of  distinc- 
tion within  fifty  miles  made  a  point  of  attendance  upon  an 
occasion  which  was  considered  as  giving  a  sort  of  triumph 

over  the  Marquis  of  A ,  in  the  person   of  his  kinsman. 

Splendid  refreshments  awaited  the  guests  on  their  arrival, 
and  after  these  were  finished,  the  cry  was  "  To  horse.'"  The 
bride  was  led  forth  betwixt  her  brother  Henry  and  her 
mother.  Her  gayety  of  the  preceding  day  had  given  rise 
[place]  to  a  deep  shade  of  melancholy,  which,  however,  did 
not  misbecome  an  occasion  so  momentous.  There  was  a 
light  in  her  eyes  and  a  color  in  her  cheek  which  had  not  been 
kindled  for  many  a  day,  and  which,  joined  to  her  great 
beauty,  and  the  splendor  of  her  dress,  occasioned  her  en- 
trance to  be  greeted  with  a  universal  murmur  of  applause, 
in  which  even  the  ladies  could  not  refrain  from  joining. 
While  the  cavalcade  were  getting  to  horse,  Sir  William  Ash- 
ton, a  man  of  peace  and  of  form,  censured  his  son  Henry  for 
having  begirt  himself  with  a  military  sword  of  preposterous 
length,  belonging  to  his  brother,  Colonel  Ashton. 

"  If  you  must  have  a  weapon,"  he  said,   •'  upon  such  »» 


290  n'AVERLEY  IfOVELS 

peaceful  occasion,  why  did  you  not  use  the  short  poniard  sent 
from  Edinburgh  on  purpose  ?" 

The  boy  vindicated  himself  by  saying  it  was  lost. 

"  You  put  it  out  of  the  way  yourself,  I  suppose,"  said  his 
father,  "  out  of  ambition  to  wear  that  preposterous  thing, 
which  might  have  served  Sir  William  Wallace.  But  never 
mind,  get  to  horse  now,  and  take  care  of  your  sister." 

The  boy  did  so,  and  was  placed  in  the  centre  of  the  gal- 
lant train.  At  the  time,  he  was  too  full  of  his  own  appear- 
ance, his  sword,  his  laced  cloak,  his  feathered  hat,  and  his 
managed  horse,  to  pay  much  regard  to  anything  else  ;  but  he 
afterwards  remembered  to  the  hour  of  his  death,  that  when 
the  hand  of  his  sister,  by  which  she  supported  herself  on  the 
pillion  behind  him,  touched  his  own,  it  felt  as  wet  and  cold 
as  sepulchral  marble. 

Glancing  wide  over  hill  and  d  le,  the  fair  bridal  proces- 
sion at  last  reached  the  parish  church,  which  they  nearly 
filled  ;  for,  besides  domestics,  above  a  hundred  gentlemen  and 
ladies  were  present  upon  t'\e  occasion.  The  marriage  cere- 
mony was  performed  according  to  the  rites  of  the  Presbyterian 
persuasion,  to  which  Bucklaw  of  late  had  judged  it  proper  to 
conform. 

On  the  outside  of  the  church,  a  liberal  dole  was  distributed 
to  the  poor  of  the  neighboring  parishes,  under  the  direction 
of  Johnie  Mortheuch  [Mortsheugh],  who  had  lately  been  pro- 
moted from  his  desolate  quarters  at  the  Hermitage  to  fill  the 
more  eligible  situation  of  sexton  at  the  parish  church  of  Ea- 
venswood.  Dame  Gourlay,  with  two  of  her  contemporaries, 
the  same  who  assisted  at  Alice's  late- wake,  seated  apart  upon 
a  fiat  monument,  or  ''  through-stane,"  sat  enviously  com- 
paring the  shares  which  had  been  allotted  to  them  in  dividing 
the  dole. 

'*  Johnie  Mortheuch,"  said  Annie  Winnie,  *' might  hae 
minded  auld  lang  syne,  and  thought  of  his  auld  kimmers,  for 
as  braw  as  he  is  with  his  new  black  coat.  I  hae  gotten  but 
five  herring  instead  o'  sax,  and  this  disna  look  like  a  gude 
saxpennys,  and  I  dare  say  this  bit  morsel  o'  beef  is  an  unce 
lighter  than  ony  that's  been  dealt  round  ;  and  it's  a  bit  o'  the 
tenony  hough,  mair  by  token  that  yours,  Maggie,  is  onto'  the 
back-sey." 

"  Mine,  quoth  she  ! "  mumbled  the  paralytic  hag — "  mine 
is  half  banes,  I  trow.  If  grit  folk  gie  poor  bodies  onything 
for  coming  to  their  weddings  and  burials,  it  suld  be  something 
that  wad  do  them  gude,  I  think." 

*'  Their  gifts,"  said  Ailsie  Gourlay,   "  are  dealt  for  nae 


TUE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOn  291 

love  of  us,  nor  out  of  respect  for  whether  we  feed  or  starve. 
They  wad  gie  us  whinstanes  for  loaves,  if  it  would  serve  tlieir 
ain  vanity,  and  yet  they  expect  us  to  be  as  gratefu',  as  they 
ca'  it,  as  if  they  served  us  for  true  love  and  liking," 

"And that's  truly  said,"  answered  her  companion. 

"■  But,  Ailsie  Gourlay,  ye're  the  auldest  o'  us  three — did 
ye  ever  see  a  mair  grand  bridal." 

"  I  winna  say  that  I  have,"  answered  the  hag  ;  "  but  I 
think  soon  to  see  as  braw  a  burial." 

"And  that  wad  please  me  as  weel,"  said  Annie  Winnie ; 
"for  there's  as  large  a  dole,  and  folk  are  no  obliged  to  girn 
and  laugh,  and  mak  murgeons,  and  wish  joy  to  these  hellicat 
quality,  that  lord  it  ower  us  like  brute  beasts.  I  like  to  pack 
the  dead-dole  in  my  lap,  and  rin  ower  my  auld  rhyme — 

"  '  My  loaf  in  my  lap,  my  penny  in  my  purse, 

Thou  art  ne'er  the  better,  and  I'm  ne'er  the  worse.'"* 

*'  That's  right,  Annie,"  said  the  paralytic  woman  ;  "  God 
send  us  a  green  Yule  and  a  fat  kirkyard  I" 

"  But  I  wad  like  to  ken,  Luckie  Gourlay,  for  ye're  the 
auldest  and  wisest  amang  us,  whilk  o'  these  revellers'  turn  it 
will  be  to  be  streikit  first  ?  " 

"  D'ye  see  yon  daudilly  maiden,"  said  Dame  Gourlay, 
"  a'  glistenin'  wi'  gowd  and  jewels,  that  they  are  lifting  up  on 
the  white  horse  behind  that  hare-brained  callant  in  scarlet, 
wi'  the  lang  sword  at  his  side  ?" 

"But  that's  the  bride  !"  said  her  companion,  her  cold 
heart  touched  with  some  sort  of  compassion — •  •  that's  the  very 
bride  hersell  I  Eh,  whow  !  sae  young,  sae  braw,  and  sae 
bonny — and  is  her  time  sae  short  ?  " 

"  I  tell  ye,"  said  the  sibyl,  "  her  winding  sheet  is  up  as 
high  as  her  throat  already,  believe  it  wha  list.  Her  sand  has 
but  few  grains  to  rin  out ;  and  nae  wonder — they've  been 
weel  shaken.  The  leaves  are  Avithering  fast  on  the  trees,  but 
she'll  never  see  the  Martinmas  wind  gar  them  dance  in  swirls 
like  the  fairy  rings." 

"  Ye  waited  on  her  for  a  quarter,"  said  the  paralytic 
woman,  **  and  got  twa  red  pieces,  or  1  am  far  beguiled  ?" 

"  Ay,  ay,"  answered  Ailsie,  with  a  bitter  grin  ;  "  and  Sii- 
William  Ashton  promised  me  a  bonny  red  gown  to  the  boot 
o'  that — a  stake,  and  a  chain,  and  a  tar-barrel,  lass  I  what 
think  ye  o'  that  for  a  propiue  ?— for  being  up  early  and  doun 
late  for  fourscore  nights  and  mair  wi'  his  dwining  daagiitei.. 
But  he  may  keep  it  for  his  ain  leddy,  cummers. " 
*  See  Curing  Dy  'Jhaxin&    JNote  IL 


292  WAVE  RLE  r  NOVELS 

**  I  hae  heard  a  sough/'  said  Annie  "Winnie,  "  as  if  Leddy 
Ashton  was  nae  canny  body." 

"  D'ye  see  her  yonder/'  said  Dame  Gourhiy,  as  she 
prances  on  her  gray  gehling  out  at  the  kirkyard  ?  There's 
mair  o'  utter  deevilry  in  that  woman,  as  brave  and  fair-fash- 
ioned as  she  rides  yonder,  than  in  a'  the  Scotch  witches  that 
ever  flew  by  moonlight  ower  JSTorth  Berwick  Law." 

"  What's  that  ye  say  about  witches,  ye  damned  hags  ?" 
said  Johnie  Mortheuch  [Mortsheugh]  ;  "  are  ye  casting  yer 
cantrips  in  the  very  kirkyard,  to  miscliieve  the  bride  and 
bridegroom  ?  Get  awa'  liame,  for  if  I  tak  my  souple  t'ye,  I'll 
gar  ye  find  the  road  faster  than  ye  wad  like." 

"  Hegh,  sirs  !"  answered  Ailsie  Gourlay  ;  "how  bra'  are 
we  wi'  our  new  black  coat  and  our  weel-pouthered  head,  as  if 
we  had  never  kenned  hunger  nor  thirst  oursells  !  and  we'll  be 
screwing  up  our  bit  fiddle,  doubtless,  in  the  ha'  the  night, 
amang  a'  the  other  elbow-jiggers  for  miles  round.  Let's  see 
if  the  pins  baud,  Johnie — that's  a',  lad." 

**I  take  ye  a'  to  witness,  gude  people,"  said  Mortheuch, 
**  that  she  threatens  me  wi'  mischief,  and  f orespeaks  me.  If 
onything  but  gude  happens  to  me  or  my  fiddle  this  night, 
I'll  make  it  the  blackest  night's  job  she  ever  stirred  in.  I'll 
hae  her  before  presbytery  and  synod  :  I'm  half  a  minister  my- 
sell,  now  that  I'm  a  bedral  in  an  inhabited  parish." 

Although  the  mutual  hatred  betwixt  these  hags  and  the 
rest  of  mankind  had  steeled  their  hearts  against  all  impres- 
sions of  festivity, this  was  by  no  means  the  case  with  the  multi- 
tude at  large.  The  splendor  of  the  bridal  retinue,  the  gay 
dresses,  the  spirited  horses,  the  blithesome  appearance  of  the 
handsome  women  and  gallant  gentlemen  assembled  upon  the 
occasion,  had  the  usual  effect  u])on  the  minds  of  the  popu- 
lace. The  repeated  shouts  of  "  Ashton  and  Bucklaw  for- 
ever I*'  the  discharge  of  pistols,  guns,  and  musketoons,  to 
give  what  was  called  the  bridal  shot,  evinced  the  interest  the 
people  took  in  the  occasion  of  the  cavalcade,  as  they  accom- 
panied it  upon  their  return  to  the  castle.  If  there  was  here 
and  there  an  elder  peasant  or  his  wife  who  sneered  at  the 
pomp  of  the  upstart  family,  and  remembered  the  days  of  the 
long-descended  Ravenswoods,  even  they,  attracted  by  the 
plentiful  cheer  which  the  castle  that  day  afforded  to  rich  and 
poor,  held  their  way  thither,  and  acknowledged,  notwith- 
standing their  prejudices,  the  influence  of  V Amphitrion  ou 
Von  dine. 

Thus  accompanied  with  the  attendance  both  of  rich  and 
poor,  Lucy  returned  to  her  father's  house.     Bucklaw  used 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  293 

his  priyilege  of  riding  next  to  the  bride,  but,  new  to  such  a 
situation,  rather  endeavored  to  attract  attention  by  the  dis- 
play of  his  person  and  horsemansliip,  than  by  any  attempt  to 
address  lier  in  private,  Tliey  reached  the  castle  in  safety, 
amid  a  thousand  joyous  acclamations. 

It  is  well  known  that  tlie  weddings  of  ancient  days  were 
celebrated  with  a  festive  publicity  rejected  by  the  delicacy  of 
modern  times.  The  marriage  guests,  on  the  present  occasion, 
were  regaled  with  a  banquet  of  unbounded  profusion,  the 
relics  of  which,  after  the  domestics  had  feasted  in  their  turn, 
were  distributed  among  the  shouting  crowd,  witli  as  many 
barrels  of  ale  as  made  the  hilarity  without  correspond  to  that 
within  the  castle.  The  gentlemen,  according  to  the  fashion 
of  the  times,  indulged,  for  the  most  part,  in  deep  draughts  of 
the  richest  wines,  while  the  ladies,  prepared  for  the  ball  which 
always  closed  a  bridal  entertainment,  impatiently  expected 
their  arrival  in  the  state  gallery.  At  length  the  social  party 
broke  up  at  a  late  hour,  and  the  gentlemen  crowded  into  the 
saloon,  where,  enlivened  by  wine  and  the  joyful  occasion,  they 
laid  aside  their  swords  and  handed  their  impatient  partners 
to  the  floor.  The  music  already  rang  from  the  gallery,  along 
the  fretted  roof  of  the  ancient  state  apartment.  According 
to  strict  etiquette,  the  bride  ought  to  have  opened  the  ball  : 
but  Lady  Ashton,  making  an  apology  on  account  of  her  daugh- 
ter's health,  offered  her  own  hand  to  Bucklaw  as  substitute 
for  her  (laughter's. 

But  as  Lady  Ashton  raised  her  head  gracefully,  expecting 
the  strain  at  which  she  was  to  begin  the  dance,  she  was  so 
much  struck  by  an  unexpected  alteration  in  the  ornaments 
of  the  apartment  that  she  was  surprised  into  an  exclamation — 
''Who  has  dared  to  change  the  pictures  ?" 

All  looked  uj),  and  those  who  knew  the  usual  state  of  the 
apartment  observed,  with  surprise,  that  the  picture  of  Sir 
William  Ashton's  father  was  removed  from  its  place,  and  in 
its  stead  that  of  old  Sir  Malise  Eavenswood  seemed  to  frown 
wrath  and  vengeance  upon  the  party  assembled  below.  The 
exchange  must  have  been  made  while  the  apartments  were 
empty,  but  had  not  been  observed  until  the  torches  and  lights 
in  the  sconces  were  kindled  for  the  ball.  The  haughty  and 
heated  spirits  of  the  gentlemen  led  them  to  demand  an 
immediate  inquiry  into  the  cause  of  what  they  deemed  an 
affront  to  their  host  and  to  themselves  ;  but  Lady  Ashton, 
recovering  herself,  passed  it  over  as  the  freak  of  a  crazy 
wench  who  was  maintained  about  the  castle,  and  whose  sus- 
ceptible imagination  had  been  observed  to  be  much  affected 


294  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

by  the  stories  which  Dame  Gourlay  delighted  to  tell  concern^ 
ing  "  the  former  family/'  so  Lady  Ashtou  named  the  Ravens- 
woods.  The  obnoxious  picture  was  immediately  removed, 
and  the  ball  was  opened  by  Lady  Ashton,  with  a  grace  and 
dignity  which  supplied  the  charms  of  youth,  and  almost  veri- 
fied the  extravagant  encomiums  of  the  elder  part  of  the  com- 
pany, who  extolled  her  performance  as  far  exceeding  the 
dancing  of  the  rising  generation. 

When  Lady  Ashton  sat  down,  she  was  not  surprised  to 
find  that  her  daughter  had  left  the  apartment,  and  she  her- 
self followed,  eager  to  obviate  any  impression  which  might 
have  been  made  upon  her  nerves  by  an  incident  so  likely  to 
aiiaot  them  as  the  mysterious  transposition  of  the  portraits. 
Apparently  she  found  her  apprehensions  groundless,  for  she 
returned  in  about  an  hour,  and  whispered  the  bridegroom, 
who  extricated  himself  from  the  dancers,  and  vanished  from 
the  apartment.  The  instruments  now  played  their  loudest 
strains  ;  the  dancers  pursued  their  exercise  with  all  the 
enthusiasm  inspired  by  youth,  mirth,  and  high  spirits,  when 
a  cry  was  heard  so  shrill  and  piercing  as  at  once  to  arrest  the 
d.ince  and  the  music.  All  stood  motionless  ;  but  when  the 
yell  was  again  repeated.  Colonel  Ashton  snatched  a  torch 
from  the  sconce,  and  demanding  the  key  of  the  bridal- 
chanber  from  Henry,  to  whom,  as  bride's-man,  it  had  been 
intrusted,  rushed  thither,  followed  by  Sir  William  and  Lady 
Ashton,  and  oue  or  two  others,  near  relations  of  the  family. 
T;i3  bridal  guests  waited  their  return  in  stupefied  amazement. 

Arrived  at  the  door  of  the  apartment.  Colonel  Ashton 
knocked  and  called,  but  received  no  answer  except  stifled 
groans.  He  hesitated  no  longer  to  open  the  door  of  the 
apartment,  in  which  he  found  opposition  from  something 
which  l.iy  against  it.  When  he  had  succeeded  in  opening  it, 
the  body  of  the  bridegroom  was  found  lying  on  the  threshold 
of  the  bridal  chamber,  and  all  around  was  flooded  with  blood. 
^A  cry  of  surprise  and  horror  was  raised  by  all  present ;  and 
the  company,  excited  by  this  new  alarm,  began  to  rush  tu- 
multuously  towards  the  sleeping  apartment.  Colonel  Ashton, 
first  whispering  to  his  mother — ''Search  for  her;  she  has 
murdered  him  !  "  drew  his  sword,  planted  himself  in  the 
passage,  and  declared  he  would  suffer  no  man  to  pass  except- 
ing the  clergyman  and  a  medical  person  present.  By  their 
assistance,  Bucklaw,  who  still  breathed,  was  raised  from  the 
ground,  and  transported  to  another  apartment,  where  his 
friends,  full  of  suspicion  and  murmuring,  assembled  round 
5iim  to  learn  the  opinion  of  the  surgeon. 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  395 

In  the  mean  while.  Lady  Ashtou,  her  liusband,  and  their 
assistants  in  vain  sought  Lucy  in  the  bridal  bed  and  in  the 
chamber.  There  was  no  private  passage  from  the  room,  and 
they  began  to  think  that  she  must  have  thrown  herself  from 
the  window,  when  one  of  the  company,  holding  his  torch 
lower  than  the  rest,  discovered  something  white  in  the  corner 
of  the  great  old-fashioned  chimney  of  the  apartment.  Here 
they  found  the  unfortunate  girl  seated,  or  rather  couched  like 
a  hare  upon  its  form — her  head-gear  dishevelled,  her  night- 
clothes  torn  and  dabbled  with  blood,  her  eyes  glazed,  and  her 
features  convulsed  into  a  wild  paroxysm  of  insanity.  When 
she  saw  herself  discovered,  she  gibbered,  made  mouths,  and 
pointed  at  them  with  her  bloody  fingers,  with  the  frantic  ges- 
tures of  an  exulting  demoniac. 

Female  assistance  was  now  hastily  summoned  ;  the  un- 
happy bride  was  overpowered,  not  without  the  use  of  some 
force.  As  they  carried  her  over  the  threshold,  she  looked  down, 
and  uttered  the  only  articulate  words  that  she  had  yet  spoken, 
saying,  with  a  sort  of  grinning  exultation — ' '  So,  you  have  ta'en 
up  your  bonny  bridegroom  ?  "  She  was,  by  the  shuddering 
assistants,  conveyed  to  another  and  more  retired  apartment, 
where  she  was  secured  as  her  situation  required,  and  closely 
watched.  The  unutterable  agony  of  the  parents,  the  horror 
and  confusion  of  all  who  were  in  the  castle,  the  fury  of  con- 
tending passions  between  the  friends  of  the  different  parties — 
passions  augmented  by  previous  intemperance — surpass  de- 
scription. 

The  surgeon  was  the  first  who  obtained  something  like  a 
patient  hearing  ;  he  pronounced  that  the  wound  of  Bucklaw, 
though  severe  and  dangerous,  was  by  no  means  fatal,  but 
might  readily  be  rendered  so  by  disturbance  and  hasty 
removal.  This  silenced  the  numerous  party  of  Bucklaw^s 
friends,  who  had  previously  insisted  that  he  should,  at  all 
rates,  be  transported  from  the  castle  to  the  nearest  of  their 
houses.  They  still  demanded,  however,  that,  in  consideration 
of  what  had  happened,  four  of  their  number  should  remain  to 
watch  over  the  sick-bed  of  their  friend,  and  that  a  suitable 
number  of  their  domestics,  well  armed,  should  also  remain  in 
the  castle.  This  condition  being  acceded  to  on  the  part  of 
Colonel  Ashton  and  his  fatlier,  the  rest  of  the  bridegroom's 
friends  left  the  castle,  notwithstanding  the  hour  and  the 
darkness  of  the  night.  The  cares  of  the  medical  man  were 
next  employed  in  behalf  of  Miss  Ashton,  whom  he  pronounced 
to  be  in  a  very  dangerous  state.  Farther  medical  assistance 
was  immediately  summoned.    All  night  she  remained  delirious. 


296  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

On  the  morning,  she  fell  into  a  state  of  absolute  insensibility. 
The  next  evening,  the  physicians  said,  would  be  the  crisis  oi 
her  malady.  It  proved  so  ;  for  although  she  awoke  from  her 
trance  with  some  appearance  of  calmness,  and  suffered  her 
night-clothes  to  be  changed,  or  put  in  order,  yet  so  soon  as  she 
put  her  hand  to  her  neck,  as  if  to  search  for  the  fatal  blue 
ribbon,  a  tide  of  recollection  seemed  to  rush  upon  her,  which 
her  mind  and  body  were  alike  incapable  of  bearing.  Con- 
vulsion followed  convulsion,  till  they  closed  in  death,  without 
her  being  able  to  utter  a  word  explanatory  of  the  fatal   scene. 

The  provincial  judge  of  the  district  arrived  the  day  after 
the  young  lady  had  expired,  and  executed,  though  with  all 
possible  delicacy  to  the  afflicted  family,  the  painful  duty  of 
inquiring  into  this  fatal  transaction.  But  there  occurred 
nothing  to  explain  the  general  hyj)othesis  that  the  bride,  in 
a  sudden  fit  of  insanity,  had  stabbed  the  bridegroom  at  the 
threshold  of  the  apartment.  The  fatal  weapon  was  found  in 
the  chamber  smeared  with  blood.  It  was  the  same  poniard 
which  Henry  should  have  worn  on  the  wedding-day,  and 
which  his  unhappy  sister  had  probably  contrived  to  secrete  on 
the  preceding  evening,  when  it  had  been  shown  to  her  among 
other  articles  of  preparation  for  the  wedding. 

The  friends  of  Bucklaw  expected  that  on  his  recovery  he 
would  throw  some  light  upon  this  dark  story,  and  eagerly 
pressed  him  with  inquiries,  which  for  some  time  he  evaded 
under  pretext  of  weakness.  When,  hoMever,  he  had  been 
transported  to  his  own  house,  and  was  considered  as  in  a  state 
of  convalescence,  he  assembled  those  persons,  both  male  and 
female,  who  had  considered  themselves  as  entitled  to  press 
him  on  this  subject,  and  returned  them  thanks  for  the  interest 
they  had  exhibited  in  his  behalf,  and  their  offers  of  adher- 
ence and  support.  "1  wish  you  all,"  he  said,  "my  friends, 
to  understand,  however,  that  I  have  neither  story  to  tell  nor 
injuries  to  avenge.  If  a  lady  shall  question  me  henceforward 
upon  the  incidents  of  that  unhappy  night,  I  shall  remain 
silent,  and  in  future  consider  her  as  one  who  has  shown  her- 
self desirous  to  break  off  her  friendship  with  me  ;  in  a  word, 
I  will  never  speak  to  her  again.  But  if  a  gentleman  shall  ask 
me  the  same  question,  I  shall  regard  the  incivility  as  equiva- 
lent to  an  invitation  to  meet  him  in  the  Duke's  Walk,*  and  I 
expect  that  he  will  rule  himself  accordingly." 

A  declaration  so  decisive  admitted  no  commentary  ;  and 
it  was  soon  after  seen  that  Bucklaw  had  arisen  from  the  bed 
of  sickness  a  sadder  and  a  wiser  man  than  he  had  hitherto 

*  See  Note  12. 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  297 

shown  himself.  He  dismissed  Craigengelt  from  his  society, 
but  not  without  such  a  provision  as,  if  well  employed,  might 
secure  him  against  indigence  and  against  temptation. 

Buckiaw  afterwards  went  abroad,  and  never  returned  to 
Scotland  ;  nor  was  he  known  ever  to  hint  at  the  circumstances 
attending  his  fatal  marriage.  By  many  readers  this  may  be 
deemed  overstrained,  romantic,  and  composed  by  the  wild 
imagination  of  an  author  desirous  of  gratifying  the  popular 
appetite  for  the  horrible  ;  but  those  who  are  read  in  the  pri- 
vate family  history  of  Scotland  during  the  period  in  which 
the  scene  is  laid,  will  readily  discover,  through  the  disguise 
of  borrowed  names  and  added  incidents,  the  leading  particu- 
lars of   AN  OWER  TRUE  TALE. 


CHAPTER  XXXV 

Whose  mind's  so  marbled,  and  his  heart  so  hard. 

That  would  not,  when  this  huge  mishap  was  heard, 

To  th'  utmost  note  of  sorrow  set  their  song, 

To  see  a  gallant,  with  so  great  a  grace, 

So  suddenly  unthoughton,  so  o'erthrown, 

And  so  to  perish,  in  so  poor  a  place. 

By  too  rash  riding  in  a  ground  unknown  I 

Poem,  in  Nisbet's  Heraldry,  vol.  ii. 

We  have  anticipated  tlie  course  of  time  to  mention  Bucklaw^s 
recovery  and  fate,  that  we  might  not  interrupt  the  detail  of 
events  which  succeeded  the  funeral  of  the  unfortunate  Lucy 
Ashton.  This  melancholy  ceremony  was  performed  in  the 
misty  dawn  of  an  autumnal  morning,  with  such  moderate  at- 
tendance and  ceremony  as  could  not  possibly  be  dispensed  with. 
A  very  few  of  the  nearest  relations  attended  her  body  to  the 
same  churchyard  to  whicli  she  had  so  lately  been  led  as  a 
bride,  with  as  little  free  will,  perhaps,  as  could  be  now  testi- 
fied by  her  lifeless  and  passive  remains.  An  aisle  adjacent  to 
the  church  had  been  fitted  up  by  Sir  William  Ashton  as  a 
family  cemetery  ;  and  here,  in  a  coffin  bearing  neither  name 
nor  date,  were  consigned  to  dust  the  remains  of  what  was 
once  lovely,  beautiful,  and  innocent,  though  exasperated  to 
frenzy  by  a  long  tract  of  unremitting  persecution. 

While  the  mourners  were  busy  in  the  vault,  the  three  vil- 
lage hags,  who,  notwithstanding  the  unwonted  earliness  of 
the  hour,  had  snuffed  the  carrion  like  vultures,  were  seated 
on  the  "  through-stane,"  and  engaged  in  their  wonted  un- 
hallowed conference. 

"  Did  not  I  say,"  said  Dame  Gourlay,  "  that  the  braw  bridal 
would  be  followed  by  as  braw  a  funeral  ?" 

"  I  think,"  answered  Dame  Winnie,  ''  there's  little  bravery 
at  it :  neither  meat  nor  drink,  and  just  a  wheen  silver  tip- 
pences  to  the  poor  folk  ;  it  was  little  worth  while  to  come  sae 
far  road  for  sae  sma'  profit,  and  us  sae  frail." 

*' Out,  wretch!"  replied  Dame  Gourlay,  "can  2!  the 
dainties  they  could  gie  us  be  half  sae  sweet  as  this  hour's  ven- 
geance ?     There  they  are  that  were  capering  on  their  prancing 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  290 

nags  four  days  since,  and  they  are  now  ganging  as  dreigh  and 
sober  as  oursells  the  day.  They  were  a'  glistening  wi'  gowd 
;ind  silver ;  they're  now  as  black  as  the  crook.  And  Miss 
Lucy  Ashton,  that  grudged  when  an  honest  woman  came 
near  her — a  taid  may  sit  on  her  coffin  the  day,  and  she  can 
never  scunner  when  he  croaks.  And  Lady  Ashton  has  hell- 
fire  burning  in  her  breast  by  this  time ;  and  Sir  William,  wi' 
his  gibbets,  and  his  faggots,  and  his  chains,  how  likes  he  the 
witcheries  of  his  ain  dwelling-house  ?" 

"  And  is  it  true,  then,"  mumbled  the  paralytic  wretch, 
"  that  the  bride  was  trailed  out  of  her  bed  and  up  the  chim- 
ley  by  evil  spirits,  and  that  the  bridegroom's  faco  was  wrung 
round  ahint  him  ?  " 

"  Ye  needna  care  wha  did  it,  or  how  it  was  done,"  said 
Ailsie  Grourlay  ;  "  but  I'll  upliauld  it  for  nae  stickit  job,  and 
that  the  lairds  and  leddies  ken  weel  this  day." 

'■^  And  was  it  true,"  said  Annie  Winnie,  "sin  ye  ken  sae 
muckle  about  it,  that  the  picture  of  auld  Sir  Malise  Eavens- 
wood  came  down  on  the  ha'  floor,  and  led  out  the  brawl  be- 
fore them  a'  ?" 

"  Na,"  said  Ailsie ;  "  but  into  the  ha^  came  the  picture — 
and  I  ken  weel  how  it  came  there — togiethem  a  warning  that 
pride  wad  get  a  fa'.  But  there's  as  queer  a  ploy,  cummers, 
as  ony  o'  thae,  that's  gaun  on  even  now  in  the  burial  vault 
yonder  :  ye  saw  twall  mourners,  wi'  crape  and  cloak,  gang 
down  the  steps  pair  and  pair  ?  " 

"What  should  ail  us  to  see  them  ?"  said  the  one  old 
woman. 

"I  counted  them,"  said  the  other,  with  the  eagerness  of 
a  person  to  whom  the  spectacle  had  afforded  too  much  interest 
to  be  viewed  with  indifference. 

"  But  ye  did  not  see,"  said  Ailsie,  exulting  in  her  superior 
observation,  "that  there's  a  thirteenth  amang  them  that  they 
ken  naething  about  ;  and,  if  auld  freits  say  true,  there's  ane 
o'  tliat  company  that'll  no  be  laug  for  this  warld.  But  come 
awa',  cummers  ;  if  we  bide  here,  I'se  warrant  we  get  the 
wyte  o'  whatever  ill  comes  of  it,  and  that  gude  will  come  of 
it  nane  o'  them  need  ever  think  to  see." 

And  thus,  croaking  like  the  ravens  when  they  anticipate 
pestilence,  the  ill-boding  sibyls  withdrew  from  the  church- 
yard. 

In  fact,  the  mourners,  when  the  service  of  interment  was 
ended,  discovered  tluifc  there  was  auiong  tliem  one  more  than 
the  invited  number,  and  the  rein  irk  was  communicated  in 
whispers  to  each  other.     The  suspi(;iou  fell   upon  a   figure 


300  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

which,  muffled  in  the  same  deep  mourning  with  the  others, 
was  reclined,  almost  in  a  state  of  insensibility,  against  one  of 
the  pillars  of  the  sepulchral  vault.  The  relatives  of  the  Asliton 
family  were  expressing  in  whispers  their  surjjrise  and  dis- 
pleasure at  the  intrusion,  when  they  were  interrupted  by  Col- 
onel Ashton,  who,  in  his  father's  absence,  acted  as  principal 
mourner.  "I  know,"  he  said  in  a  whisper,  "who  this  person 
is ;  he  has,  or  shall  soon  have,  as  deep  cause  of  mourning  as 
ourselves ;  leave  me  to  deal  with  him,  and  do  not  disturb  the 
ceremony  by  unnecessary  exposure."  So  saying,  he  sepa- 
rated himself  from  the  group  of  his  relations,  and  taking  tho 
unknown  mourner  by  the  cloak,  he  said  to  him,  in  a  tone  of 
suppressed  emotion,  "Follow  me." 

The  stranger,  as  if  starting  from  a  trance  at  the  sound  of 
his  voice,  mechanically  obeyed,  and  they  ascended  the  broken 
ruinous  stair  which  led  from  the  sepulchre  into  the  church- 
yard. The  other  mourners  followed,  but  remained  grouped 
together  at  the  door  of  the  vault,  watching  with  anxiety  the 
motions  of  Colonel  Ashton  and  the  stranger,  who  now  ap- 
peared to  be  in  close  conference  beneath  the  shade  of  a  yew- 
tree,  in  the  most  remote  part  of  the  burial-ground. 

To  this  sequestered  spot  Colonel  Ashton  had  guided  the 
stranger,  and  then  turning  round,  addressed  him  in  a  stern 
and  composed  tone.  "I  cannot  doubt  that  I  speak  to  the 
Master  of  Ravenswood  ?  "  No  answer  was  returned.  "•  I  can- 
not doubt,"  resumed  the  Colonel,  trembling  with  rising  pas- 
sion, "that  I  speak  to  the  murderer  of  my  sister  ?" 

"You  have  named  me  but  too  truly,"  said  Eavenswood. 
in  a  hollow  and  tremulous  voice. 

"  If  you  repent  what  you  have  done,"  said  the  Colonel, 
''may  your  penitence  avail  you  before  God  ;  with  me  it  shall 
serve  you  nothing.  Here,"  he  said,  giving  a  paper,  "is  the 
measure  of  my  sword,  and  a  memorandum  of  the  time  and 
place  of  meeting.  Sunrise  to-morrow  morning,  on  the  links 
to  the  east  of  Wolf's  Hope." 

The  Master  of  Eavenswood  held  the  paper  in  his  hand, 
and  seemed  irresolute.  At  length  he  spoke — "Do  not,"  he 
said,  "urge  to  farther  desperation  a  wretch  who  is  already 
desperate.  Enjoy  your  life  while  you  can,  and  let  me  seek 
ray  death  from  another." 

"That  you  never,  never  shall  I"  said  Douglas  Ashton. 
"  You  shall  die  by  my  hand,  or  you  shall  complete  the  ruin 
of  my  family  by  taking  my  life.  If  you  refuse  my  open 
challenge,  there  is  no  advantage  I  will  not  take  of  you,  no 
indignity  with  which  I  will  not  load  you,  until  the  very  name 


THE  BRIDE  Ob'  hAMMEHMOOR  3U1 

of  Kavenswood  shall  be  the  sign   of  everything  that  is  dis- 
honorable, as  it  is  already  of  all  that  is  villanous." 

•'  That  it  shall  never  be,"  said  Kavenswood,  fiercely  ;  ''  if 
1  am  the  last  who  mnst  bear  it,  I  owe  it  to  those  who  once 
owned  it  that  the  name  shall  be  extinguished  without  infamy. 
I  accept  your  challenge,  time,  and  place  of  meeting.  We 
meet,  I  presume,  alone  ?  " 

''Alone  we  meet,"  said  Colonel  Ashton,  ''  and  alone  will 
the  survivor  of  us  return  from  that  place  of  rendezvous." 

"  Then  God  have  mercy  on  the  soul  of  him  who  falls  !" 
said  Eavenswood. 

''  So  be  it ! "  said  Colonel  Ashton  ;  ''  so  far  can  my  charity 
reach  even  for  the  man  I  hate  most  deadly,  and  with  the 
deepest  reason.  Now,  break  off,  for  we  shall  be  interrupted. 
The  links  by  the  sea-shore  to  the  east  of  Wolf's  Hope ;  the 
hour,  sunrise  ;  our  swords  our  only  weapons." 

'•Enough,"  said  the  Master,  "  I  Avill  not  fail  you." 

They  separated  ;  Colonel  Ashton  joining  the  rest  of  the 
mourners,  and  the  Master  of  Eavenswood  taking  his  horse, 
wliicli  was  tied  to  a  tree  behind  the  church.  Colonel  Ashton 
returned  to  the  castle  with  the  funeral  guests,  but  found  a 
pretext  for  detaching  himself  from  them  in  the  evening, 
when,  changing  his  dress  to  a  riding-habit,  he  rode  to  Wolf's 
Hope  that  night,  and  took  up  his  abode  in  the  little  inn, 
in  order  tliat  he  might  be  ready  for  his  rendezvous  in  the 
morning. 

It  is  not  known  how  the  Master  of  Eavenswood  disposed 
of  the  rest  of  that  unhappy  day.  Late  at  night,  however,  he 
arrived  at  Wolf's  Crag,  and  aroused  his  old  domestic,  Caleb 
Balderstone,  who  had  ceased  to  expect  his  return.  Confused 
and  flying  rumors  of  the  late  tragical  death  of  Miss  Ashton, 
and  of  its  mysterious  cause,  had  already  reached  the  old  man, 
who  was  filled  with  the  utmost  anxiety,  on  account  of  the 
probable  effect  these  events  might  produce  upon  the  mind  of 
his  master. 

The  conduct  of  Eavenswood  did  not  alleviate  his  appre- 
hensions. To  the  butler's  trembling  entreaties  that  he  would 
take  some  refreshment,  he  at  first  returned  no  answer,  and 
then  suddenly  and  fiercely  demanding  wine,  he  drank,  con- 
trary to  his  habits,  a  very  large  draught.  Seeing  that  his 
master  would  eat  nothing,  the  old  man  affectionately  en- 
treated that  he  would  permit  him  to  light  him  to  his 
chamber.  It  Avas  not  until  the  request  was  three  or  four 
times  repeated  that  Eavenswood  made  a  mute  sign  of  compli- 
ance.    But  when  Balderstone  conducted  him  to  an  apartment 


302  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

which  had  been  comfortably  fitted  up,  and  which,  since  his 
return,  he  had  usually  occupied,  Kavenswood  stopped  short 
on  the  threshold. 

"Not  here,"  said  he,  sternly;  "show  me  the  room  in 
which  my  father  died ;  the  room  in  which  she  slept  the  night 
they  were  at  the  castle." 

"Who,  sir?"  said  Caleb,  too  terrified  to  preserve  his 
presence  of  mind. 

"  She,  Lucy  Asliton !  Would  you  kill  me,  old  man,  by 
forcing  me  to  repeat  her  name  ?  " 

Caleb  would  have  said  something  of  the  disrepair  of  the 
chamber,  but  was  silenced  by  the  irritable  impatience 
which  was  expressed  in  his  master's  countenance ;  he 
lighted  the  way  trembling  and  in  silence,  placed  the  lamp  on 
the  table  of  the  deserted  room,  and  was  about  to  attempt  some 
arrangement  of  the  bed,  when  his  master  bid  him  begone  in  a 
tone  that  admitted  of  no  delay.  The  old  man  retired,  not  to 
rest,  but  to  prayer  ;  and  from  time  to  time  crept  to  the  door 
of  the  apartment,  in  order  to  find  out  whether  Eavenswood 
had  gone  to  repose.  His  measured  heavy  step  upon  the  floor 
was  only  interrupted  by  deep  groans ;  and  the  repeated 
stamps  of  the  heel  of  his  heavy  boot  intimated  too  clearly  that 
the  wretched  inmate  was  abandoning  himself  at  such  moments 
to  paroxysms  of  uncontrolled  agony.  The  old  man  thought 
that  the  morning,  for  which  he  longed,  would  never  have 
dawned  ;  but  time,  whose  course  rolls  on  with  equal  current, 
however  it  may  seem  more  rapid  or  more  slow  to  mortal  appre- 
hension, brought  the  dawn  at  last,  and  spread  a  ruddy  light 
on  the  broad  verge  of  the  glistening  ocean.  It  was  early  in 
November,  and  the  weather  was  serene  for  the  season  of  the 
year.  But  an  easterly  wind  had  prevailed  during  the  night, 
and  the  advancing  tide  rolled  nearer  than  usual  to  the  foot  of 
the  crags  on  which  the  castle  was  founded. 

With  the  first  peep  of  light,  Balderstone  again  resorted  to 
the  door  of  Ravenswood's  sleeping  apartment,  through  a  chink 
of  which  he  observed  him  engaged  in  measuring  the  length  of 
two  or  three  swords  which  lay  in  a  closet  adjoining  to  the 
apartment.  He  muttered  to  himself,  as  he  selected  one  of 
these  weapons — "It  is  shorter  :  let  him  have  this  advantage, 
as  he  has  every  other." 

Caleb  Balderstone  knew  too  well,  from  what  he  witnessed, 
upon  what  enterprise  his  master  was  bound,  and  how  vain  all 
interference  on  his  part  must  necessarily  prove.  He  had  but 
time  to  retreat  from  the  door,  so  nearly  was  he  surprised  by 
bis    master   suddenly  coming  out  and    descending   to   the 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  308 

stables.  The  faithful  domestic  followed  ;  and,  from  the  dis- 
hevelled appearance  of  his  master's  dress,  and  his  ghastly 
looks,  was  confirmed  in  his  conjecture  that  he  had  passed 
the  night  without  sleep  or  repose.  He  found  him  busily  en- 
gaged in  saddling  his  horse,  a  service  from  which  Caleb, 
though  with  faltering  voice  and  trembling  hands,  offered  to 
relieve  him.  Ravenswood  rejected  his  assistance  by  a  mute 
sign,  and  having  led  the  animal  into  the  court,  was  just ' 
about  to  mount  him,  when  the  old  domestic's  fear  giving 
way  to  the  strong  attachment  which  was  the  principal  passion 
of  his  mind,  he  flung  himself  suddenly  at  Eavenswood's  feet, 
and  clasped  his  knees,  while  he  exclaimed,  "  Oh,  sir  !  oh, 
master  !  kill  me  if  you  will,  but  do  not  go  out  on  this  dread- 
ful errand  !  Oh  !  my  dear  master,  wait  but  this  day  ; 
the  Marquis  of  A comes  to-morrow,  and  a'  will  be  reme- 
died." 

*'  You  have  no  longer  a  master,  Caleb," said  Eavenswood, 
endeavoring  to  extricate  himself  ;  "  why,  old  man^  would 
you  cling  to  a  falling  tower  ?" 

"  But  I  luive  a  master,"  cried  Caleb,  still  holding  him 
fast,  "  while  the  heir  of  Eavenswood  breathes.  I  am  but  a 
servant ;  but  I  was  born  your  father's — your  grandfather's 
servant.  I  was  born  for  the  family — I  have  lived  for  them — 
I  would  die  for  them  !  Stay  but  at  home,  and  all  will  be 
well!" 

"  Well,  fool !  well  ?  "  said  Eavenswood.  ^^  Vain  old  man, 
nothing  hereafter  in  life  will  be  well  with  me,  and  happiest 
is  the  hour  that  shall  soonest  close  it !  " 

So  saying,  he  extricated  himself  from  the  old  man's  hold, 
threw  himself  on  his  horse,  and  rode  out  at  the  gate  ;  but  in- 
stantly turning  back,  he  threw  towards  Caleb,  who  hastened 
to  meet  him,  a  heavy  purse  of  gold. 

*' Caleb  !"  he  said,  with  a  ghastly  smile,  "1  make  yon 
my  executor  ; "  and  again  turning  his  bridle,  he  resumed 
his  course  down  the  hill. 

The  gold  fell  unheeded  on  the  pavement,  for  the  old  man 
ran  to  observe  the  course  which  was  taken  by  his  master,  who 
turned  to  the  left  down  a  small  and  broken  path,  which 
gained  the  sea-shore  through  a  cleft  in  the  rock,  and  led  to 
a  sort  of  cove  where,  in  former  times,  the  boats  of  the  castle 
were  wont  to  be  moored.  Observing  him  take  this  course, 
Caleb  hastened  to  the  eastern  battlement,  which  commanded 
the  prospect  of  the  whole  sands,  very  near  as  far  as  Wolf's 
Hope.  He  could  easily  see  his  master  riding  in  that  direc- 
tion, as  fast  as  the  horse  could  carry  him.     The  prophecy  at 


804  WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

once  rushed  on  Balderstone's  mind,  that  the  Lord  of  Ravens- 
wood  should  perish  on  the  Kelpie's  flow,  which  lay  half-way 
betwixt  the  Tower  and  the  links,  or  sand  knolls,  to  the  north- 
ward of  Wolf's  Hope.  He  saw  him  accordingly  reach  the 
fatal  spot ;  but  he  never  saw  him  pass  farther. 

Colonel  Ashton,  frantic  for  revenge,  was  already  in  the 
field,  pacing  the  turf  with  eagerness,  and  looking  with  im- 
patience towards  the  Tower  for  the  arrival  of  his  antagonist. 
The  sun  had  now  risen,  and  showed  its  broad  disc  above  the 
eastern  sea,  so  that  he  could  easily  discern  the  horseman  who 
rode  towards  him  with  speed  which  argued  impatience  equal 
to  his  own.  At  once  the  figure  became  invisible,  as  if  it  had 
melted  into  the  air.  He  rubbed  his  eyes,  as  if  he  had  wit- 
nessed an  apparition,  and  then  hastened  to  the  spot,  near 
which  he  was  met  by  Balderstone,  who  came  from  the  oppo- 
site direction.  Ko  trace  whatever  of  horse  or  rider  could  be 
discerned  ;  it  only  appeared  that  the  late  winds  and  high 
tides  had  greatly  extended  the  usual  bounds  of  the  quick- 
sand, and  that  the  unfortunate  horseman,  as  appeared  from 
the  hoof-tracks,  in  his  precipitate  haste,  had  not  attended  to 
keep  on  the  firm  sands  on  the  foot  of  the  rock,  but  had  taken 
the  shortest  and  most  dangerous  course.  One  only  vestige  of 
his  fate  appeared.  A  large  sable  feather  had  been  detached 
from  his  hat,  and  the  rippling  waves  of  the  rising  tide  wafted 
it  to  Caleb's  feet.  The  old  man  took  it  up,  dried  it,  and 
placed  it  in  his  bosom. 

The  inhabitants  of  Wolf's  Hope  were  now  alarmed,  and 
crowded  to  the  place,  some  on  shore,  and  some  in  boats,  but 
their  search  availed  nothing.  The  tenacious  depths  of  the 
quicksand,  as  is  usual  in  such  cases,  retained  its  prey. 

Our  tale  draws  to  a  conclusion.     The  Marquis  of  A , 

alarmed  at  the  frightful  reports  that  were  current,  and  anxious 
for  his  kinsman's  safety,  arrived  on  the  subsequent  day  to 
mourn  his  loss  ;  and,  after  renewing  in  vain  a  search  for  the 
body,  returned,  to  forget  what  had  happened  amid  the  bustle 
of  politics  and  state  affairs. 

Not  so  Caleb  Balderstone.  If  worldly  profit  could  have 
consoled  the  old  man,  his  age  was  better  provided  for  than 
his  earlier  years  had  ever  been  ;  but  life  had  lost  to  him  its 
salt  and  its  savor.  His  whole  course  of  ideas,  his  feelings, 
whether  of  pride  or  of  apprehension,  of  jjleasure  or  of  pain, 
had  all  arisen  from  his  close  connection  with  the  family  which 
was  now  extinguished.     He  held  up  his  head  no  longer,  for 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR  305 

Book  all  his  usual  haunts  and  occupations,  and  seemed  only  to 
find  pleasure  in  moping  about  those  apartments  in  the  old 
castle  which  the  Master  of  Kavenswood  had  last  inhabited. 
He  ate  without  refreshment,  and  slumbered  without  repose ; 
and,  with  a  fidelity  sometimes  displayed  by  the  canine  race, 
but  seldom  by  human  beings,  he  pined  and  died  within  a  year 
after  the  catastrophe  which  we  have  narrated. 

The  family  of  Ashton  did  not  long  survive  that  of  Eavens- 
wood.  Sir  William  Ashton  outlived  his  eldest  son,  the  Col- 
onel, who  was  slain  in  a  duel  in  Flanders  ;  and  Henry,  by 
whom  he  was  succeeded,  died  unmarried.  Lady  Ashton  lived 
to  the  verge  of  extreme  old  age,  the  only  survivor  of  the 
group  of  unhappy  persons  whose  misfortunes  were  owing  to 
her  implacability.  That  she  might  internally  feel  compunc- 
tion, and  reconcile  herself  with  Heaven,  whom  she  had  offended, 
we  will  not,  and  we  dare  not,  deny  ;  but  to  those  around  her  she 
did  not  evince  the  slightest  symptom  either  of  repentance  or 
remorse.  In  all  external  appearance  she  bore  the  same  bold, 
haughty,  unbending  character  which  she  had  displayed  before 
these  unhappy  events.  A  splendid  marble  monument  records 
her  name,  titles,  and  virtues,  while  her  victims  remain  undis- 
tinguished by  tomb  or  epitaph. 


NOTEJS  TO  THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR 


NOTE  L— THE  FAMILY  OP  STAIR,  p.  Ix 

[It  may  be  regretved  that  the  Author  had  not  adhered  to  his  original 
purpose  Sls  here  staited.  In  his  Introducition  to  the  Chronicles  of  the 
Canong-ate,  when  referring  to  the  sources  or  materials  of  his  novels, 
he  says,  "I  may  mention,  for  example's  sake,  that  'the  terrible  ca:cas- 
trophe  of  the  Bride  of  Lammeimoor  actually  occurred  in  a  Scottish 
family  of  rank.  ...  It  is  unnecessary  faifther  to  withdraw  the 
real  veil  fi-om  this  scene  of  famiiy  distress,  nor,  although  it  occurred 
more  than  a  hundred  yea.rs  since,  might  it  be  altogether  agreeable 
to  the  representatives  of  the  families  concerned  in  the  narrative.  It 
may  be  proper  to  say,  thait  the  events  are  imitated;  but  I  had  neither 
the  means  nor  intention  of  copying  the  mianners,  or  tracing-  the  char- 
acters, of  the  persons  concerned  in  the  real  story." 

The  regret,  however,  is  not  in  his  stating  that  the  tragical  event 
said  to  have  happened  in  the  family  of  Dalrymple  of  Stair  in  1669  had 
suggested  the  catastrophe,  but  in  seemingly  connecting  the  story  it- 
self with  the  history  of  'that  'family,  by  quoting  so  fully  the  scandal 
and  satirical  verses  of  a  later  period. — L»aing.] 

NOTE  2.— SIR  G.   LOCKHART,  p.  37 

President  of  the  Court  of  IC-ession.  He  wa;s  pistolled  in  the  Hi^h 
Street  of  Edinburgh,  by  John  Caiesley  of  Dailry,  in  the  year  1689.  The 
revenge  of  this  desperate  man  *,'as  stimulated  by  an  opinion  that  he 
had  sustained  injustice  in  a  decreet-arbitral  pronounced  by  the 
President,  a^si.gni'ng  an  alimentary  provision  of  about  £93  in  favor  of 
his  wife  and  children.  He  is  said  at  first  to  have  designed  to  shoot 
the  judge  while  attending  upon  divine  worship,  but  was  diverted  by 
some  feeling  concernin'g  the  sanctity  of  the.  pla/ce.  After  the  congre- 
giation  was  dismissied.  he  c'ogged  his  victim  as  far  as  the  head  of  the 
close,  on  the  south  side  of  the  Lawnm'arkeit,  in  which  the  President's 
house  was  situated,  and  shot  him  dead  as  he  was  about  to  enter  it. 
This  act  was  done  in  the  presence  of  numlerous  spectators.  The  as- 
sassin made  no  attempt  to  fly,  but  boasted  of  the  deed,  saying,  "I  have 
taught  the  President  haw  to  do  justice."  He  had  at  least  given  him 
fair  warning,  as  Jack  Cade  says  on  a  similar  occasion.  The  mur- 
derer, after  undergoing  the  torture,  by  a  special  act  of  the  Esitates 
of  Parliament,  was  tried  before  the  Lord  Provost  of  Edinburgh,  as 
high  sheriff,  and  condemned  to  be  dragged  on  a  hurdle  to  the  place  of 
execution,  to  have  his  right  hand  struck  off  while  he  yet  lived,  and, 
finally,  to  be  hung  on  the  gallows  with  the  pistoi  wherewth  he  shot 
the  President  tied  around  his  neck.  This  execution  took  p'lace  on  the 
3d  of  April,  1689;  and  the  incident  was  long  remembered  as  a  dreadful 
instance  of  what  the  law  books  call  the  perfervldum  ingenium  Scoto- 
rum. 

307 


808  WAVERLET  IfOVBLS 

NOTE  3.— THE  BALLiANTYNEJS,  p.  79 

James  Ballantyne,  the  eminent  printer,  was  the  eldest  of  three 
sons  of  a  small  merchant  in  Kelso.  He  was  born  in  1772,  and  became 
acquainted  with  Sir  Walter  Scott  so  early  as  1784,  when  attending 
the  grammar  school.  Having  established  a  printing  office,  he  started 
a  local  newspaper,  called  the  Kelso  Mail;  and  in  1799  there  issued 
from  his  press  Scott's  Apology  for  Tales  of  Terror,  of  which  only 
twelve  copies  were  thrown  off.  This  was  followed  by  the  first  edi- 
tion of  the  Minstrelsy  of  the  Scottish  Border  in  1802,  a  work  that 
was  considered  such  an  admirable  specimen  of  typography  that  Bal- 
lantyne was  induced  to  remove  to  Edinburgh,  where  for  thirty  years 
he  carried  on  a  printing  establi.shment  with  great  success,  leaving 
his  younger  brother  Alexander  at  Kelso  to  look  after  the  news- 
paper. 

John  Ballantyne,  the  second  son,  was  born  in  1774.  He  com- 
menced Ms  career  at  Kelso,  in  September,  1813,  by  the  sale  of  that 
portion  of  the  celebrated  library  of  John  Duke  of  Roxburghe  which 
remained  at  Fleurs  Castle.  On  coming  to  Edinburgh,  he  was  for  a 
time  connected  with  the  printing  office;  but  afterwards  turned  auc- 
tioneer and  bookseller,  and  became  the  puhlisher  of  several  of  Scott's 
Poems  and  Novels.  "Jocund  Johnny,"  as  Scott  sometimes  called 
him,  was  a  person  of  volatile  and  joyous  disposition,  a  most  amusing 
companion,  having  the  credit  of  being  the  best  story-teller  of  his 
time.  The  state  of  his  health,  'however,  obliged  him  to  relinquish 
business,  and  he  died  16th  June,  1821. 

James,  who  devoted  much  of  his  time  to  theatrical  criticism  and 
journalism,  died  within  four  months  of  Sir  Walter  Scott,  in  January. 
1833.  He  assisted  the  Author  Of  these  novels  In  revising  the  proof 
sheets  and  suggested,  minute  corrections  (IJaing). 

NOTE    4.— GEORGE    BUCHANAN'S    JESTS,    p.    107 

Referring  probably  to  a  popular  chap-book,  entitled  The  Witty 
and  Entertaining  Exploits  of  George  Buchanan,  who  was  commonly 
called  the  King's  Fool;  the  whole  six  parts  complete,  1781.  This 
character  -was  jester  to  Charles  I.,  and  must  not  be  mistaken  for  his 
learned   namesake   (Laing). 

NOTE  6.— RAID  OF  CALEB   BALiDERSTONE.   p.    128 

The  raid  of  Caleb  Balderstone  on  the  cooper's  kitchen  has  been  uni- 
versally considered  on  'the  southern  side  of  the  Tweed  as  grotesquely 
and  absurdly  extravagant.  The  Author  oan  only  say  that  a  similar 
anecdote  was  communicated  to  him,  with  date  and  names  of  the 
parties,  by  a  noble  earl  lately  deceased,  whose  remembrances  of  for- 
mer days,  both  in  Scotland  and  England,  while  they  were  given  with 
a  felicity  and  ijower  of  humor  never  to  be  forgotten  by  those  who  had 
the  happiness  of  meeting  his  lordship  in  familiar  society,  were  es- 
pecially invaltiable  from  their  extreme  accuracy. 

Speaking  after  my  kind  and  lamented  informer,  'with  the  omission 
of  names  only,  the  anecdote  ran  thus:  There  was  a  certain  baeheilor 
gentleman  in  one  of  the  midland  counties  lof  Scotland,  second  son  of 
an  amcienit  family,  who  lived  on  the  fortune  of  a  second  son,  videlicet, 
upon  some  miserably  small  annuity,  •which  yet  was  sio  managed  and 
stretched  out  by  the  expedients  of  his  man  J'ohn  that  his  master  kept 
the  front  rank  with  all  the  young  men  of  quality  in  the  county,  and 
hunted,  dined,  diced  and  drartk  with  them  upon  apparently  equal 
terms. 

It  is  true  that,  as  the  master's  society  was  extremely  amusing,  his 
friends  contrived  to  reconcile  his  man  John  to  accept  assistance  of 
various  kinds  "under  the  rose,"  which  they  dared  not  to  have  directly 
offered  to  hie  master.  Yet,  very  consistently  with  aU  this  good  incli- 
nation tio  John  and  John's  master,  it  was  thought  among  the  young 
fox-ihunteirs  that  'it  would  be  an  excellent  jest,  if  possible,  to  take 
John  at  fiault. 

With  thiis  Intention,  and,  I  think.  In  consequence  of  a  bet,  a  partj- 
of  four  or  five  of  these  youngsters  arrived  at  the  bachelor's  little 


NOTES  309 

mansion,  whloh  was  adjacent  to  a  considerable  village.  Here  they 
alighted  a  short  while  before  the  dinner  hour— for  it  was  judged 
regular  to  give  John's  ingenuity  a  fair  start — and,  rushing  past 
the  astonished  dornesJtic,  entered  the  little  parlor;  and,  telling  some 
concerted  story  of  the  cause  of  their  invasion,  the  self-invited  guests 
asked  their  landlord  if  he  could  let  them  have  some  dinner.  Their 
friend  gave  them  a  hearty  and  unembarrassed  reception,  and,  for 
the  matter  of  dinner,  referred  ithem  to  John.  He  was  summoned 
accordingly;  received  his  master's  orders  to  get  dinner  ready  for  Che 
party  who  had  thus  unexpectedly  arrived,  and,  without  changing  a 
muscle  of  his  countenance,  promised  prompt  obedience.  Great  was 
the  speculation  of  the  visitors,  and  probably  of  the  landlord  els'o. 
What  was  to  be  the  Issue  of  John's  fair  promises.  Some  of  the 
more  curious  had  taken  a  peep  into  the  kitchen,  and  could  see  noth- 
ing there  to  realize  the  prospect  held  out  by  the  major-domo.  But, 
punctual  as  the  dinner-hour  struck  on  the  village  cvock,  John 
placed  before  them  a  stately  rump  of  boiled  beef,  with  a  proper 
accompaniment  of  greens,  amply  sufficient  to  dine  the  whole  party 
and  to  decide  the  bet  against  those  among  the  visitors  who  expected 
to  take  John  napping.  The  explanation  was  the  same  as  in  the 
case  of  Caleb  Balderstone.  John  had  used  the  freedom  to  carry  off 
the  kale-pot  of  a  rich  old  chuff  in  the  Village  and  brought  it  to  his 
master's  house,  leaving  the  proprietor  and  his  friends  to  dine  on 
bread  and  cheese;  and  as  John  said,  "good  enough  for  them."  The 
fear  of  giviner  offense  to  so  may  persons  of  distinction  kept  the 
poor  man  sufficiently  quiet,  and  he  was  afterward  remunerated  by 
some  indirect  patronage,  so  that  the  jest  was  admitted  a  good  one 
on  all  sides.  In  England,  at  any  period,  or  in  some  parts  of  Scot- 
land at  the  present  day,  It  might  not  Ihave  passed  off  so  well. 

NOTE  6.— ANCIENT  HOSPITAUTY,   p.  132 

It  wag  once  the  universal  custom  to  place  ale,  wine  or  some  strong 
liquor  in  the  chamber  of  an  honored  guest  ito  assuage  his  thirst  should 
he  'feel  any  on  awakening  in  the  night,  which,  considering  that  the 
hospitality  of  that  period  often  reaches  excess,  was  by  no  means  un- 
likely. The  author  has  met  some  Instances  of  it  in  farmer  days  and 
in  old-fashioned  families.  It  was,  perhaps,  no  poetic  fiction  thait 
records  how 

My  cummer  and  I  lay  down  to  sleep 

With  two  pint-stoups  at  our  bed-feet; 

And  aye  wh€n  we  waken'd  we  idrank  them  dry 

What  think  you  o'   my  cumaner  and  I? 

It  Is  a  current  story  in  Teviotdale  that  in  the  house  of  an  ancient 
family  of  di'Stinction,  much  addicted  to  the  Presbyterian  ca.use  a 
Bible  was  always  put  into  the  sleeping  apartment  of  the  guests,  along 
with  a  bottle  of  strong  ale.  On  some  occasion  there  was  a  meeting 
of  clergymen  in  the  vicinity  of  the  castle,  all  of  whom  were  invited 
to  dinner  by  the  worthy  baronet,  and  several  abode  all  night.  Accoird- 
Ing  to  the  fashion  of  the  times,  seven  of  the  reverend  guests  were  al- 
lotted to  one  large  barrack-room,  which  was  used  on  such  occasions 
of  extended  hospitality.  The  butler  took  care  that  the  divines  were 
presented,  according  to  custom,  each  with  a  Bible  and  a  bottle  of  ale. 
But  after  a  little  consultation  among  themselves  they  are  said  to 
have  recalled  the  domestic  as  he  was  leaving  the  apartment.  "My 
friend,"  said  one  of  the  venerable  guests,  "you  must  know  'when  we 
meet  together  as  brethren  the  youngest  minister  reads  aloud  a  portion 
of  Scripture  to  the  rest;  only  one  Bible,  therefore,  is  necessary;  take 
away  the  other  six  and  in  their  place  bring  six  more  bottles  of  ale." 

This  synod  would  have  suited  the  "'hermit  sage"  of  Johnson,  who 
answered  a  pupil  who  inquired  for  the  real  road  to  happiness  with 
the  celebrated  line, 

Oome,  my  lad,  and  drink  eom'e  beer! 

NOTE  7.— APPEIAL.  TO  PARLIAMENT,  p.  148 

The  power  of  appeal  from  the  Court  of  Sessions,  the  supremtr 
Judges  of  Scotland,  to  the  Scottish  Parliament,  in  case  of  civil  right. 


310  WAYERLEY  NOVELS 

was  fiercely  debated  before  the  Union.  It  was  a  privilege  highly  de- 
sirable for  the  subject,  as  the  exam. nation  and  occasional  reversa.1 
of  their  sentences  in  Parliament  might  serve  as  a  check  upon  the 
Judges,  -which  uiey  greatly  required  at  a  time  when  they  were  much 
more  d;suxii;iushecl  tor  legal  knowledge  than  for  uprightness  and  in- 
tegrity. 

The  members  of  the  Faculty  of  Advocates  (so  the  Scottish  barris- 
ters are  termed),  in  the  year  1674,  incurred  the  violent  displeasure  of 
the  Court  of  Sessions,  on  account  of  their  refusal  to  renounce  the 
right  of  appeal  to  Parliament;  and,  by  a  very  arbitrary  procedure, 
the  majority  of  the  number  were  banished  from  Edmburgh,  and  con- 
sequently deprived  of  their  professional  practice,  for  several  sessions 
or  terms.  But,  by  the  articles  of  the  Union,  an  appeal  to  the  British 
House  of  Peers  has  been  secured  to  the  Scottish  subject,  and  that 
right  ihas,  no  doubt,  had  its  Influence  in  forming  the  impartial  and 
independent  character  which,  much  contrary  to  the  practice  of  their 
predecessors,  'the  Judges  of  the  Court  of  Session  have  since  dis- 
played. 

It  Is  easy  to  conceive  that  an  old  lawyer  like  the  Lord  Keeper  in 
the  text  should  feel  alarm  at  the  judgments  given  in  his  favor,  upon 
grounds  of  strict  penal  law,  being  brought  to  appeal  under  a  new  and 
dreaded  procedure  in  a  court  eminently  impartial,  and  peculiarly 
moved  bv  considerations  of  equity. 

In  earlier  editions  of  this  work  [before  1829-33]  this  legal  distinc- 
tion was  not  sufficiently  explained.. 

NOTE  8.— POOR-MAN-OF-MUTTON,    p.    168 

The  blade-bone  of  a  shoulder  of  mutton  is  called  in  Scotland  "a 
poor  man,"  as  in  some  parts  of  England  it  is  termed  "a  poor  knight 
of  Windsor;"  in  contrast,  it  must  be  presumed,  to  the  baronial  Sir 
Doin.  It  is  said  that,  in  the  last  age,  an  old  Scottisih  peer,  whose 
conditions  (none  of  the  most  gentle)  were  marked  by  a  a  strange 
and  fierce-looking  exaggeration  of  the  Highland  countenance,  chanced 
to  be  indisposed  while  he  was  in  London  attending  Parliament.  The 
master  of  the  hotel  where  he  lodged,  anxious  to  show  attentton  to 
his  noble  guest,  waited  on  him  to  enumerate  the  contents  of  his 
well-stocked  larder,  so  as  to  endeavor  to  hit  on  something  which 
might  suit  his  appetite.  "I  think,  landlord,"  said  his  lordship,  rising 
up  from  his  couch,  and  throwing  back  the  tartan  plaid  with  which 
he  had  screened  his  grim  and  ferocious  visage— "I  thlnK  I  could  eat 
a  morsel  of  a  poor  man."  The  landlord  fled  in  terror,  having  no 
doubt  that  his  guest  was  a  cannibal,  who  might  be  in  the  habit  of 
eating  a  slice  of  a  tenant  as  light  food  when  he  was  under  regimen. 

NOTE  9.— MIDDLETON'S    "MAD  WORLD,"   p.   199 

Hereupon  I,  Jedediiah  Cleishbotham,  crave  leave  to  remark  prime, 
wnich  signifies,  in  the  first  place  that,  having  in  vain  inquired  at  the 
circulating  library  in  Gandercleugh,  albeit  it  aboundeth  in  similar 
vanities,  for  this  samyn  Middleton  and  his  "Mad  World,"  it  was  at 
length  shown  unto  me  amongst  other  ancient  fooleries  carefully 
compiled  by  one  Dodsley,*  who,  doubtless,  hath  h*s  reward  for  neglect 
of  precious  time;  and  having  misused  so  much  of  mine  as  was  neces- 
sary for  the  purpose,  I  therein  found  that  a  play-man  is  brought  in 
as  a  footman,  whom  a  knight  is  made  to  greet  facetiously  with  the 
epithet  of  "linen  stocking,  and  threescore  miles  a-day." 

Secundo,  which  is  secondly  in  the  vernacular,  under  Mr.  Pattie- 
son's  favour,  some  men  not  altogether  so  old  as  he  would  represent 
them,  do  remember  this  species  of  menial,  or  forerunner.  In  evidence 
of  which  I,  Jedediaih  Cleishbotham,  though  mine  eyes  yet  do  me  good, 
service,  remember  me  to  have  seen  one  of  this  'tribe  clothed  in  white, 
and  bearing  a  staff,  who  ran  daily  before  the  stage-coach  of  the 
umquhile  John  Earl  of  Hopeton,  father  of  this  earl,  Charles,  that 
now  is;  unto  whom,  it  may  be  justly  said,  that  renown  playeth  the 
part  of  a  running  footman,  or  precursor;  and,  as  the  poet  singeth — 

Mars  standing  by  asserts  his  quarrel. 

And  Fame  flies  after  with  a  laurel. 


•See  Dodsley's  Collection  of  Old  Plays,   vol.  v.,   p.  307  (Laing). 


NOTES  811 

NOTE  10.— TRUMPETER  MARINE  AT  SHERIPFMUIR,  p.  223 

The  battle  of  Sheriffmuir,  which  took  place  in  November,  1715, 
was  elaiimed  as  a  victory  by  tioth  sides.  This  gave  rise  to  a  clever 
popular  song  printed  at  the  time  as  a  broadside,  under  the  title  of 
A  Race  at  Sheriffmuir,  fairly  run  on  the  15th  November,  1715,  to  the 
tune  of  "The  Horseman's  Sport." 

There's  some  say  that  we  wan,  some  say  that  they  w&n. 
Some  say  that  nane  wan  at  a',  man: 
But  one  thing  I'm  sure,   that  at  Sheriffmuir 
A  battle  there  was,   which  I  saw,  man. 

And  we  ran,  and  they  ran,  and  they  ran,  and  we  ran. 
And  we  ran,  and  they  ran  awa',  man. 

In  these  satirical  verses  Trumpeter  Marine  Is  introduced,  and  In 
proof  of  Sir  Walter's  accuracy  as  to  the  name,  the  following  note 
may  be  added,  as  recent  editors  of  tois  ballad  have  altered  it  to 
Maclean: 

In  the  Present  State  of  Great  Britain,  London,  1710,  Francis 
Marine  is  second  on  the  list  of  Queen  Anne's  Trumpeters  for  Scot- 
land, while  in  the  volume  for  1716  his  name  occurs  among  'the  officers 
of  the  king's  household,  as  "Francis  Marine,  Sen.,"  and  there  is 
added  as  fifth  trumpeter,  "Francis  Marine,  Jun."  These  household 
trumpeters  were  employed,  as  they  are  to  this  day  in  the  Lyon  OfHce, 
for  announcing  royal  pro'elamatrons,  and  attending  the  Circuit  Courts 
Qif  Justiciary.  Another  son  or  grandson,  named  James  Marine,  con- 
tinues to  appear  as  trumpeter  down  to  1785. 

The  words  referred  to,  in  the  original  ballad  of  Sheriffmuir,  are 
ais  follow: 

Aud  Trumpet  Marine  too,  whose  breeks  were  not  Clean,  througb 

Misfortune  he  happen'd  to  fa',  man: 

By  saving  his  neck,  his  trumpet  did  break, 

Came  off  without  musiek  at  a',  man. 

And  we  ran,  and  they  ran,  etc. 

'No  doubt  there  was  a  John  Maclean,  'trumpeter,  sent  on  a  message 
(from  the  rebels  to  the  Duke  of  Argyle  before  the  'battle,  but  the 
modern  improvers  have  spoiled  the  verses  both  as  to  ryhme  and  ac- 
curacy; while  they  have  overlooked  the  description  of  the  trumpet- 
er's dress,  which  would  evidently  indicate  hda  not  being  a  Highlander 
(Laing). 

NOTE  IL— CITRING  BY  CHARMS,  p.  291 

Reginald  Scott  tells  of  an  old  woman  who  performed  so  many 
cures  by  means  of  a  charmi  that  she  was  suspected  of  witchcraft. 
Her  mode  of  practice  beiing  inquired  Into,  it  was  found  that  the  only 
fee  which  she  would  a'ocepit  of  was  a  loaf  of  bread  and  a  silver 
penny;  and  that  the  potent  charm  wdth  which  she  wrought  so  many 
cures  was  the  doggerel  couplet  in  the  text. 

NOTE  12.— DUKE'S  WALK,  p.  296 

A  walk  In  the  vicinity  of  Holyrood  House,  so-called  because  often 
frequented  by  the  Duke  of  York,  arfterwards  James  II.,  during  bis 
residence  in  Scotland.  It  was  for  a  long  time  the  usual  place  of 
rendezvous  tor  settlings  affairs  of  honor. 


GLOSSARY 


01* 


WORDS,  PHRASES  AND  ALLUSIONS 


ABEE,   alone 

ABOON.     ABUNB,     above, 

AEDBEZE,    in    a    blaze 
up 

ABOU  HASSAN.  See  The 
Arabian  Nights:  "The 
Sleeper  Awakened" 

ADJUDICATION,  an  ac- 
tion for  seizing  upon  a 
heritable  estate  as  se- 
curity tor  a  debt — a 
Scots    law    term 

AD  RE  -  ABDIFIOANDAM 
(p.  91),  to  set  up  an  an- 
cient   house   again 

AE,   one 

AGE,    to   act   as    may    be 
necessary    and     legal — a 
Scots  law  term 
AIL.     to    interfere    with, 
prevent 

AIN,  own 

AIRT,  to  direct,  turn;  a 
point 

AITS,  oats;  AIT-CAKE, 
oat-cake 

AIVBR,  or  AVER,  an  old 
broken-winded  horse 

ALEXANDER,  a  tragedy 
by  Nathaniel  Lee,  very 
popular  in  the  early  part 
of  the  18th  century 

ALLBNARLY,  Solely, 
alone 

ANCE,  once 

ANDREW  FER'RATIA,  a 
Highland   broadsword 

ANGUS,  ELVRL  OF,  pre- 
sumably Archibald,  si.xth 
earl,  exiled  by  James  V. 
in   1528 

AROINT,  avaunt 

ASS,  ash 

AULD  REEKIE,  Edin- 
burgh 

AVA,  at  all 

AWE,    to    owe 

AVANT-COURIBR.  a  fore- 
runner, messenger  sent 
on  in  advance 

BAOK-SBY,   the  sirloin 
BACKSWORD,      a      aword 


with  only  one  cutting 
edge 

BARD  OF  HOPE,  Thomas 
Campbell,  author  of 
Pleasures  of  Hope 

BASS,  a  conspicuous  mass 
of  rock  in  the  Firth  ot 
Forth,  not  far  from 
North   Berwick 

BAWBEE,   a  halfpenny 

BEDESMAN,  an  alms- 
man, one  that  prays  for 
another 

BEBRAL,  a  beadle,  sex- 
ton 

BEFLUMM,  to  befool,  ca- 
jole 

BELL  THE  CAT,  synony- 
mous with  "Beard  the 
lion  In  his  den."  The 
phrase  originated  among 
the  Scottish  nobles  who 
conspired  to  ruin  James 
III.'s  favorite,  Cochran. 
See  Scott's  Tales  of  a 
Grandfather,  chap.  ixii. 

BBNDEnj,   cocked 

BEND-LEATHER,  thick 
leather  for  boot  soles 

BERIWIOK.  •  DUKE  OF, 
James  ITitz-James,  the 
natural  son  King  James 
II.  of  England,  was 
made  a  marshal  ot 
France 

BICKER,  a  wooden  drlnk- 
ing-cup 

BICKERING  (FIRE)  flick- 
ering,  quivering 

BIDE,    to   wait,    stay 

BIGGONET,  a  linen  cap, 
cotf 

BIRKIB,  a  lively  little 
fellow;  the  game  of  beg- 
gar-my-neighbor 

BIRLING,  drinking  in 
company 

BIT  AND  THE  BUFFET, 
sustenance  with  hard  us- 
age 

BLACK.A.VISED,  black- 
visaged 

3^3 


BLACK-JACK,  a  largu 
waxed  pitcher  for  hold- 
ing  ale 

BLACKNESS,  a  castle, 
and  formerly  a  state 
prison,  situated  on  the 
Firth  of  Forth,  Linlith- 
gowshire 

BLITHE,  cheerful,  happy, 
pleased 

BOGLE,   a  bogle,   ghost 

•BOTHWEUL  BRIG.  See 
Old  Mortality,  chaps, 
xxxl.    and   xxxil. 

BOUK,  a  body,  carcass, 
bulk  of  body 

BOUL,  a  handle 

BOUROCK,  a  mound,  bar- 
row, heap  of  earth;  a 
miserable  hut 

BRACH,    a   huntingshound 

BRAE,  a  hill;  BRAESIDB, 
a  hillside 

BRANDER,   to  broil,   grill 

BRAW,    brave,    fine 

BRAWL,  a  French  dance, 
cotillion 

BRENT,  straight  and 
smooth 

BREWIS,  the  scum 
caused  by  boiling 

BREWSTER,    a  brewer 
BRIDE    IN,    taken    to    the 
bridal  chamber 

BROCHE,    a    roastlng-splt 

BIRUOE  TO  KILL  A  SPI- 
DER, an  allusion  to  tha 
story  of  Robert  Bruca 
and  the  spider 

BUSK,  to  deck,  bind  up 


CABAGE,  to  cut  off  a 
deer's  head  behind  the 
horns 

C-^BRACH,  or  BUCK  OP 
CABRACH,  a  mountain 
near  the  western  bound- 
ary   of    Aberdeenshire 

CADGY,   cheerful,  sportive 

CAICKLING,  cackling, 

laughing 


514 


WAVSJRLST  NOVELS 


GALLANT,    a  young  lad 

CAMPAIGN     OF .     See 

Spanish    generals 

CAMPVERE,  or  CAMP- 
HIRE,  a  small  Dutch 
town  on  the  island  of 
Walcheren,  where  from 
1444  to  1795  the  Scots 
had  a  privileged  trad- 
ing factory 

CANNON-BIT,  a  smooth 
round  bit  for  horses 

CANNY,  careful,  shrewd, 
useful;  (in  the  nega- 
tive)      peculiar,         pos- 

CANTABIT  VACUUS,  he 
may  sing  before  thieves 
who  has  empty  pockets 
— Juvenal    xi.,    22 

CANTRIPSJrlcks,  spells, 
incantations 

CANTY,    cheerful,    merry 

CAPOT,  to  win  all  the 
tricks  in  plcquet,  a 
form    of    exclamation 

CARBONADE,      to      broil, 

.   grill 

CARCAKE,  a  small  cake 
eaten  on  Shrove  Tues- 
day 

CARLE,    a    fellow 

CARLINE,  an  old  woman, 
jade 

CAST  O',    kind   of 

CASTOR,    a  fur  hat 

aUIGHT  IN  THE  'MAN- 
NER, caught  In  a 
criminal    act 

CAULD  BE  MY  CAST, 
cold   be   my   fate  or   lot 

CAVESSON,  a  horse's 
noseband 

CEDAMT  ARMA  TOGAE, 
let  arms  give  place  to 
the  insignia  of  peace 

CHAMBER  OF  DAIS,  the 
best  bedroom,  kept  for 
guests   of    consideration 

CHANGE  A  LEG.  In  the 
old  coaching  days  in- 
side passengers  changed 
legs  with  the  consent 
of  their  opposite  neigh- 
bor 

CHANGE-HOUSE,    an   inn 

CHAPPIN,         a  liquid 

measure;^!    quart 

CHAPPIT,    struck     (of     a 

CHATEAU  QUI  PARLE, 
etc.  (p.  183),  when  a 
fortress  parleys  and  a 
lady  listens,  both  are 
on  the  point  of  surren- 
dering 

CHAUMER,    a   chamber 

CHEEK  OF  THE  CHIM- 
NEY NOOK,  the  fire- 
side,   chimney-corner 

CHIELD,    a  fellow 

CIRCUS  OF  ROME.  See 
Green  and  blue  chariots 

CLAVERING,     chattering, 

CLAVERS,  Idle  talk,  gos- 
sip 


CLAVER'SE,  John  Gra- 
hame  of  Claverhouse, 
Viscount    Dundee 

CLAW  UP  YOUR  MIT- 
TENS, to  finish  you, 
give  you  the  coup  de 
grace 

CLOCKIN  HEN,  a  sitting 
hen 

COCKERNONY,  a  top- 
knot 

COG,  to  empty  or  pour 
out 

COGGING,  quibbling,  de- 
ceiving,   cheating 

COLDINGHAME  ABBEY, 
or  rather  Priory,  found- 
ed by  King  Edgar  in 
the  last  years  of  the 
11th  century,  a  few 
miles  from  Eyemouth, 
on  the  coast  of  Ber- 
wickshire 

COMMONTY,  right  of 
pasture  on  the  com- 
mons 

COMPT  AND  RECKON- 
ING, a  Scots  law  pro- 
cess enforcing  settle- 
ment of  accounts 

CONDICTIO  INDEBITI,  a 
claim  for  recovering  a 
sum  that  has  been  paid 
when   it  was  not  due 

CONSCRIPT  FATHERS, 
the  title  given  to  the 
senators  of  ancient 
Rome 

COOKIE,    a   Scotch  bun 

COPPER  CAPTAIN,  a 
counterfeit  captain.  See 
Beaumont  and  Fletch- 
er's Rule  a  wife  and 
have  a  wife 

CORDERY,  MR.,  a  name 
suggested  by  Corderius, 
the  teacher  of  Calvin. 
and  author  of  a  book  of 
Latin  dialogues  once 
extensively  used  in 
schools 

COUPE-GORGE,  cut- 

throat 

COUTEAU,  a  hunting- 
knife 

CRACKS,  gossip,  boast- 
ing 

CRIMP,    to   kidnap 

CRITIC,  a  play  by  Sheri- 
dan 

CROOK,  a  chain  for  sus- 
pending a  pot  In  old 
fireplaces 

OROWDY.  a  thick  pottage 
made  of  oatmeal 

CUITLE,  to  diddle,  get 
by  cheating 

CUL  DE  LAMPB,  a  pic- 
torial  ornament,  tail- 
piece 

CULLION,   a  poltroon 

CUMBERNAULD,  the 
seat  of  the  ancient 
family  of  Fleming 
(Lord  Elphinstone), 
situated  15  miles  north- 
east  of  Glasgow 


CUMMER,      a     gossip     or 

friend 
CUTTY,     short 

DAFFING,  frolicking, 

larking,    fun 

DAFT,    crazy 

DAIS.  See  Chamber  of 
dais 

DANDILLY,  noted  for 
beauty 

DANG,    drove,    knocked 

DEAD-DEAL,  the  board 
on  which  a  dead  body 
is   stretched 

DEBITUM  FUNDI,  a  real 
burden    on   the    estate 

DEfORE,  to  decorate; 
DECOREMENTS,  deco- 
rations 

DEMELE,  an  encounter, 
altercation 

DEMI-SAKER,  a  light 
fleldpiece,    small    cannon 

DENTIER,    more   dainty 

DIET-LOAF,    sweet    cake 

PIGITO  MONSTRARI,  to 
be  pointed  at  with  the 
finger 

DING,  to  knock,  drive, 
beat 

DINK,    trim,    neat 

DIRGIE.  a  funeral  en- 
tertainment 

DIRK,    a  dagger 

DISNA,   does  not 

DISPONE  UPON,  bestow- 
ed upon 

DITTAY,  an  Indictment, 
accusation 

DOITED,    dotard,    stupid 

DON  GAYFEROS,  a 
nephew  of  the  chivalric 
Roland,  and  one  of  the 
Twelve  Peers  of  Char- 
lemagne 

DONNART,     stupid 

DOO,    a   dove,    pigeon 

DOUR,    stubborn 

D  R  A  P  -  DE-BERRY,  a 
cloth  made  at  Berri  in 
France 

DREIGH,    slow,    lingering 

DRIBBLE,    a   drop 

DROUTHY,    dry 

DRUCKEN,    drunk 

DRUMLANRIG,  the  an- 
cient seat  of  the 
Queensberry  family 
(now  belongs  to  that  of 
Buccleuch),on  the  Nith, 
Parish  of  Durisdeer, 
Dumfriesshire 

DUNDEE,  John  Grahame 
of  Claverhouse,  Viscount 
Dundee,  a  supporter  of 
the   Stuarts 

DUNG,    knocked,    driven 

DUNSH,    to  nudge 

D  W  I  N  I  N  G,  declining, 
pining  away 

EARTH  (of  a  badger),  a 
hole 

EAST  LOTHIAN,  another 
name  for  Haddington- 
shire 


GLOSSARY 


815 


EATCHE,    adze 

EBB,    shallow 

ECLAIRCISSEMENT,  ex- 
planation 

EE,    an    eye:    EEN,    eyes 

EGERIA,  the  nymph  who 
used  to  meet  King  Nu- 
ma  Pompilius  In  a  grove 
near   Rome 

ELBOW-JIGGER,  a  fid- 
dler 

ELFLAND.    fairyland 

ENEUCH,    enough 

EXIES,    hysterics 

EXPIRY  OF  THE  LE- 
GAL, the  expiration  of 
the  period  in  which  an 
estate  seiied  by  adjudi- 
cation (q.  V)  may  be  re- 
deemed 

EYAS,  a  hawk  brought  up 
from  the  nest 

FACTOR,  a  steward 

FAILYIE,    to  fail 

FASH,  to  trouble 

FECKLESS,  feeble,  gilly 

PELL,  terrible;  a  hide, 
skin 

FEUAR,  a  Scotch  lease- 
holder; PBU  -  RIGHTS, 
absolute  rights  of  prop- 
erty, in  return  tor  the 
payment  of  a  trifling  sum 
annually 

>'IDUS  ACHATES,  faithful 
companion 

FIT,  the  foot 

f^LA'M,  FLAN,  or  PLAWN, 
a  kind  of  custard 

fLANKARD,  the  side  of 
the  lower  part  of  the  ab- 
domen 

njIGHTE'RING, '  transient 

FLISK,   a  caper,   whim 

/"LORENTINE,  a  kind  of 
pie 

FLYTE,  to  scold,  storm 
in   anger 

FOG,    moss 

FORBYE,     besides 

FORDUN,  JOHN  OF,  an 
early  Scottish  chronicler 
of  the   14th   century 

FORESPEAK,  to  bewitch, 
presage   evil   of 

FORGATHER,  to  come  to- 
gether, meet  one  an- 
other 

FOU,    a   bushel 

FOUL  THIEF,   the  tievll 

POUND,    to  go,   depend 

FOY,  an  entertainment 
given  by  friends  to  one 
who  is  about  to  leave 
them   for  good 

FRACTIOUS,  rebellious, 
difficult   to   deal   with 

FREIT,    an   omen 

FREMD,    strange 

PROGS,  an  ornamental 
fastening  of  a  coat  or 
mantle,  genenally  a  long 
button   and   a   loop 

FUGITATION,  a  crimi- 
nal's fleeing  from  jus- 
tice— a  Scots  law  term 


FURNISHES  (DEER'S), 
presumably  droppings; 
hence  track 

GABERLUNZIE,  a  beggar, 
mendicant 

GAB,    to    go 

GAISLING,    a  gosling 

GALLOWAY,  a  Scotch 
cob,  named  from  the  dis- 
trict of  Galloway,  where 
originally  bred 

GANG,   to  go;  GANE,  gone 

GAR,   to  make,  oblige 

GATE,  direction,  place, 
way 

GAUGER,   an  exciseman 

GAUNCH,  a  snatch  with 
the   open  mouth,    bite 

GAWSIE,   plump,   jolly 

GEAR,    property 

GEIZENED,  leaky,  as  a 
barrel  kept  too  long  dry 

GEORGIUS,  a  gold  George- 
noble  (equals  6s.  8d.), 
time  of  Henry  VIII.,  St. 
George  being  the  device 
on   the  obverse 

GIF,    if 

G  I  N  E  S  D  E  PASSA- 
MONTE.  See  Don  Qui- 
xote, pt.  li.,  chap, 
xxviil.,  and  pt.  i., 
chap.  xxii. 

GIRD,    a   hoop 

GIRN,    to   grin 

GLAZEN,  furnished  with 
glass 

GLEDGING,  looking  ask- 
ance 

GLEED,  a  spark,   flame 

GLEEING,    squinting 

GLEN'T.    to  whisk,    flash 

GLOWER,    to  gaze,    stare 

GOB-BOX.    the   mouth 

GOWD.    gold 

GOWK,  a  fool;  a  cackoo 

GOWRIE  CONSPIRACY,  a 
mysterious  attempt  to 
assassinate  James  VI. 
of  Scotland  by  Lord 
Ruthven  and  his  broth- 
er, the  Earl  of  Gowrie, 
in   1600 

GRAHAMB  TO  WEAR 
GREEN.  The  Marquis 
of  Montrose.  a  Gra- 
hame.  was  driven  to  ex- 
ecution in  a  cart  of 
green  alder;  fulfllling 
an  old  propiiecy — "Visa 
la  fln  [Montrose's  mot- 
to]. On  an  ouler  [aide:] 
tree  ^reen,  Shall  by 
many    ae    seen' ' 

GRAITH.    furniture 

GRAVAMINOUS,  serious, 
important 

GRAYBEARD,  a  stone  Jar 
for  holding  ale  or  liquor 

GREEN  AND  BLUE 
CHARIOTS.  In        the 

reign  of  Justinian,  em- 
peror of  the  Eastern 
Empire,  the  rivalries  of 
the  blue  and  green  char- 
iBteers,     who     raced     in 


the  circus  at  Byzantium, 
developed  into  political 
factions  powerful  enough 
to  seriously  disturb  the 
state 

GREET,    to   weep 

GROGRAM,  a  coarse  tex- 
tile   fabric 

GRUND-MIAEL,  rent  lor 
tJhe   ground 

GUDEIMAN,  the  head  of 
the  house,   the  husband 

GUDESIRiB,   a  grandfathor 

GUDBWIFE,  a  wife,  as 
head  of  her  house,  land- 
lady 

GUIDES,  managers,  guld- 
ers;  GUIDING,  treating, 
behaving  to 

GUSTTNIG    THEIR    GABS, 
tickling  their  palates 

GUY  OP  WARWICK,  the 
hero  of  an  Early  BngiUsh 
romance,  one  of  whose 
feats  was  to  overcome  a 
famous  Dua  Cow  on 
Dunsmore  Heath,  mear 
Warwick 


HAOKSTOUN  OP  RATH- 
ILLET,  a  fanatical  Cam- 
eronian,  one  of  the  mur- 
derers of  Archbiahop 
Sharp  of  St.  Andrews  in 
1679 

HIAGGIS,  a  Scotch  pud- 
ding of  minced  meat, 
mixed  with  oat-meal, 
suet,  onions,  etc.,  boiled 
in  a  skin  bag 

HAILL  AND  PEIR,  whole 
and  sound,  complete  and 
entire 

HALE,   HAILL,  whole 

HALP-FOU,    half-bushel 

HAMILTON,  on  the  Clyde, 
Lanarkshire,  the  princi- 
pal seat  of  the  ducal 
family  of  Hamilton.  The 
wild  cattle  stiill  roam 
through  the  extensive 
parks 

HARLED,    dragged 

HATTED  KIT.  a  bowl  of 
sour  or  curdled  cream 

BAUD,  to  hold;  HAUD 
OUT,  to  present  a  fire- 
arm 

HEATHER -OOW,  a.  twig 
or  tuft   of  heath 

HEBZY,  a  Ihoist,   swing  up 

HEIR  OF  LINNE,  this 
old  ballad  is  printed  In 
Percy's   Reliques 

HElLLiOAT,  devil  -  may- 
caTe 

HEILL  IS  PAVED,  etc., 
the  phrase  is  due  to  Dr. 
Johnson ;  the  idea  is 
common  to  several  writ- 
ers; cf.  George  Her- 
bert's Jacula  Prudeii- 
tiura 

HENRIETTA  MARIA, 
queen-consort  of  Charles 
I.,  and  daughter  of  Hen- 
ry IV.   of  Prance 


Sltt 


VAVERLEY  NOVELS 


HERMIT  SlAOE  OiF  JOHN- 
SON, Dr.  Johnson's  par- 
ody on  a  poem  by  T. 
Warton.  See  Boswell's 
Life,   under  year  1777 

HOPE,  BARD  OF,  Thomas 
Campbell,  author  ot 
Measures  of  Hope 

HOU&H,  a  thigh,  ham 

HOU3HWaFBSK:EP,  house- 
wifery 

HOW,  a  hollow 

HUAH^OCK,    a  hemlock 

HYKE  A  TAUBOT,  etc.  (p. 
87),  hunting  terms  and 
names  borrowed  frum 
Dame  Juliana  Bemer's 
Treatise  of  Hawking, 
Hunting,  etc.  (I486)— 
Book  of  St.  Alban'a 

ILKA,    each,    every 

ILKA  LAVD  ITS  AIN 
LAUiCH,  every  place  its 
own   (law)   customs 

ILL^CLEOKET,    Ill-hatched 

ILL-DBEDY  GEJTT,  mis- 
chievous urchin 

IN  FORO  CO.VTE'NTIOSO, 
in   the   law  courts 

IN'GAN,   an  onion 

I.NiIMICUlS  AMICISSIMUS, 
an  enemy  Is  (some- 
times) the  best  of 
frlruds 

INLaKE,  a  breach,  loss, 
death 

INTER  MIlNOR'EIS,  be- 
tween  minors 

IN  TERROREM,  as  a 
warning   to  others 

IRISH  BRIGADHX  a  body 
of  troops  in  the  pay  of 
the  French  King 

ITHHR.   other 

JACOBUS,    a    gold    coin— 

25s.,  first  issued  by 
James  I.   of  (England 

JESS,  a  leathern  strap 
fixed  round  a  Ihawk's 
leg 

JOE,  a  sweetheart,  dai- 
ling 

JOHN  OHTTRCHILL,  the 
great  soldier,  the  Duke 
of         iMarlborough  ot 

Amie's  reign 

JOHNNY  NHW-OOMiE,  a 
newcoimer,   upstart 

JOW,   a  toll 

K.ALL,  broth ;  KAIL- 

YARD, a  cabbage  gar- 
den 

KAKN.  a  tribute  In  kind, 
aa  of  poultry,  eggs, 
cheese,  etc.,  from  ten- 
ant to  landlord 

KAISER,  the  lEImiperor  of 
'Germany 

KBBBUOK,   a  cheese 

KBEKIT,   peeped 

R0BP  HER  THRGEP, 
keep  her   resolution 

KELPIE,    a  'water-spirit 

KBN,   to  know 

KBNSPiEOKLE,  conspicu- 
ous,  easily   recognized 

KI.MlMiBR.   a  gossip,  £rleuil 


KINDLY  AID,   a  contrlbu- 
titra   in   kind    payable   to 
the  landlord  by  the  ten- 
ant 
KIPPAGB,   a  rage,   dilem- 
ma 
KIPiPER,  a  dried  salmon 
KIST,  a  ohest,   coffin 
KITTLE,    to   tickle;    ti'Ck- 

lish 
KNOIWEJ,     *    knoll,     emi- 
nence 

liAMIMiETl,    amber 

LAL\I.ME(R>  lUVW,  one  ot 
the  Laanmenraoor  hills, 
eight  miles  south  of 
Hnctdington 

L' A'-UPHITRIOiN  OU  L'ON 
'DINE,  the  nia:n  who 
really  pays  for  the  din- 
ner. See  Plautus,  Am- 
phitruo 

LANDWARD,  In  the  coun- 
try,  rural 

LATEl-'WAKE,  the  watch 
over  a  dead  body 

UAUCH,    law,    customs 

LAUNDER,  to  do  laundry 
work 

UAiWING,  a  bill,  reckon- 
ing 

L.'UWS  SCHEME,  a  com- 
pany formed  in  1717  by 
John  Law  (of  Lauriston, 
near  lEdinburgh)  for  de- 
veloping the  resources  ot 
Louisiana  and  the  'Mis- 
sissippi valley,  which  at 
that  time  belonged  to 
France 

LBB,  NATHA  NIEL, 
draimatist,  went  Insace 
through  drink,  wrote 
The  Rival  Queens;  or, 
Alexander  the  Great 
(1667),    and  other  plays 

LEG,  lOHAN'GB  A.  See 
'Ohange   a   leg 

LIFT,  the  sky;  to  carry  off 

LINKS,  sandy  flat  ground 
on  sea-coast,  dunes 

■LIPPH.N,    to   trust 

LIPBENING  WORD,  occa- 
sional, thoughtless  word 

LITH,    a  joint 

LOON,   a  fellow 

LOOT,   allowed,   permitted 

t,OUlPBN,    leaped 

LOWE,   a  flame,   fire 

LUCKIB,  mother,  a  title 
given  to  old  dames 

LUITHR  CUM  PERSONA, 
eto.  dp.  51),  he  pays 
■with  his  person  who  can- 
not pay  iwith  his  purse 

LUM,  a  chimney 

L'UN  N'SMPiBCHB,  etc. 
(p.  99),  the  one  is  no 
hindrance  to  the  other 

LUNYIES,   loins 

LURDANE;  a  blockhead 

MAIL,  tax,  rent 
MAILING,   a  small   farm 
MAI.V,      a     hand    at    dice, 

matoh   at  cock-fighting 
MAIR,   MAIST,   more,  most 


M  A  1  T  R  B       D'ARMBS. 

swordsman,    fenoingHmas- 

MALLBUS  MALIFICARUM 
(nine  editions  before 
1496),  by  Kramer  and 
Sprenger,  describing  the 
processes   against  witches 

MANSE,  a  parsonage 

MA.UN,    must 

MAUT,   malt 

MiBAL-POKB,   a  meal-bag 

MELTEH,  a  herring  full 
of  milt 

MiEPHIBOSHETH.  a  char- 
acter  in  Dryden's  Absa- 
lom and  Achitopel 

ME}RK— Is.    1  l-3d. 

.MiEIRSB,   Berwickshire 

MEiSSAN,    a  cur 

MBT.\iLLEID  (Lu^I>S),  met- 
tled,   full   ot   spirit 

MILE,  ISOOTTUSH,  nearly 
nine   furlongs 

■MiLLL  or  'MULL,  a  snuff- 
box 

MIRANDA,  the  heroine  of 
Shakespeare's  Tempest 

MIRK,   dark 

■MISGIE.   to  go  wrong,   fall 

MITTENiS.  See  Claw  up 
your  mittens 

WON  DIEU!  IL  Y  lElN  A 
'DEUX,  Good  Heavens! 
there  are  two  of  them 

.MONTERO  O.AP,  a  horse- 
man's or  huntsman's  caip 
with  ear-flaps 

MORLAND,  GEORGE,  a 
clever  English  painter, 
but  a  fman  of  dissipated 
habits,  'Who  died  In  1804 

MOSS,   a  morass,   marsh 

MOUNTAIN-MAIN,  a  Cam- 
eronian,  strictest  sect  of 
Covenanters 

MR.  PUFF,  a  character  in 
Slheridan's  Critic 

M'UCKLE,   much 

MULL,    a   snuff-horn 

MULTIBLIPEPOIiNDING,  a 
Scots  law  proce.ss,  the 
English  interpleader,  for 
settling  competing  claims 
to  one  and  the  same 
fund 

M  U  R  G  E  O  N  S,  mouths, 
grimaces 

NAE,  NABBODY,  NAETH- 
ING,  no,  nobody,  nothing 

N.AR,   never 

N0QOB  DIVES,  NEQUE, 
etc.  (p.  13S),  No  Scotch- 
man of  merit,  be  he 
rich,  brave,  or  even 
wise,  will  be  able  to  re- 
main long  in  his  coun- 
try. Envy  will  drive 
hiim  out 

NiEUK,    nook,   corner 

NOMBLES,  or  NUMBLES, 
the  entrails  of  a  deer 

NORTHAMPTON,  EARL 
OF.  Henry  Howard, 
youngerbroLher  ot  Thom- 
as, fourth  Duke  of  Nor- 
folk,     born     1540,      was 


GLOSSARY 


817 


prominent    during    t  h  ft 

reigas    of    Klizabeth    and 
James  I. 
NORTH    BERWICK    LAW, 
a  concal  hill  near  Nortli 
Berwick 
NOURICBSHIP,    the   office 

of  nurse 
NOWT,    black  cattle 
NUMA,    the  second   of  tha 
legendary    kings    of    an- 
cient Rome 
NUPTA;      DOMUM     DUC- 
TA ;     OBITT ;     SEPT.  LT ; 
wedded ;     taken     home ; 
died;  buried 

OFFCOME,     an     apology, 

excu9« 
ORANGE,      PRINCE      OF. 

See  Spanish  generals 
OUT-BYE,   from  home 
OVERCROW,       to       over- 
power, triumph  over 
OWERLOOK,  to  ignore 
OXTER,  the   armpit 

PACOLET,  a  dwarf,  owner 
of  a  winged  horse,  in 
the  legend  of  Valentine 
and  Orson 

FAINTING.  See  Serene 
and  silent  art 

PAND,  a  pledge;  «  bed- 
curtain 

PAROCHINE,   a  parish 

PARVE,  NEC  INVIDEO, 
etc.  (p.  2),  Thou  art 
about  to  go.  but  alone, 
into  the  busy  city,  my 
little  book— I  grudge 
thee  not  thy  lot 

PAS  D'AVANCB,  the  lead, 
precedence 

PATRIA  POTESTAS.  pa- 
ternal authority 

PEARLINGS,    lace 

PELAT,  a  person  of  Insuf- 
ferable Dride 

PEGH,  to  pant,  breathe 
hard 

PETTICOAT-TAIL,  a  kind 
of  cake  baked  with  but- 
ter 

PETTY  COVER,  for  petit 
convert,  a  meal  not 
eaten  In  ceremonious 
state 

PEW,  tha  plaintive  cry  ol 
certain  birds;  COULD- 
NA  HAE  PLAYED 
PEW,  could  not  have 
drawn  a  note  from 

PICKLE,  a  small  quantity 

PICK-MAW,  a  species  of 
gull 

PIG,  a  stoneware  vessel, 
pitcher 

PINE,   to  pain,  punish 

PINNTWINKLES,  an  In- 
strument of  torture  con- 
sisting of  a  board  with 
holes,  into  which  the 
fingers  were  thrust  and 
pressed  with  screw-pegs 

PINT,  SCOTCH— 3  Eng- 
lish pints 


PIQUE,  REPIQUE,  and 
C'APOT,  terms  used  in 
the  game  of  picquet 

PIHN,  a  reel 

PIT-MIRK,  as  dark  as 
pitch 

PIZB,  a  term  of  mild  ex- 
ecration 

PLACEBO,   a  sop 

PLACK,  a  small  copper 
coin — 1-3  penny 

PLISKIE,  a  prank,  trick 

PLOY,   a  merry-making 

PLUMDAMAS,  for  prune 
de  damas,  a  damask 
plum,  i.  e.  a  damson 
(tart) 

POCK-PUDDING  a  Scotch- 
man's  contemptuous 
name  for  an  Englishman 

POINT,  QUINT,  and  QUA- 
TORZE,  terms  used  in 
the  game  of  picquet 

POINT  D'APPUI,  a  sup- 
port 

POINT  D'ESPAGNB,  a 
sort  of  French  lace 
esteemed  in  Spain  in  the 
17th  century 

POKE,    a   b;ig 

POSSO,  IN  MANNOR 
WATER,  in  Peebles- 
shire 

POUTHERED,  corned, 
slightly   salted 

PRESTER.  JOHN,  legend- 
aiy  King  of  Abyssinia 

PRETTY  MAN,  a  brave 
man,  athletic  and  skilled 
in  the  use  of  his  weap- 
ons 

PROPINE,   a  gift 

FUND  SCOTS— Is.  8d  ster- 
ling 

PYKB,  a  pick 

QUAIGH,  a  drlnklng-cup 
of  hooped  staves,  orna-  J 
mented  with  silver.  It 
held  about  a  pint,  and 
was  chiefly  used  for  wlue 
and    brandy 

QUARTER'S  LENGTH,  a 
quarter  of  a  yard 

QUEEN,  a  sprightly  young 
woman,    flirt 

RAE,  roe-deer 
RAILLY.  •r  RAIL,  a  kind 
of  cloak  or  kerchief   for 
the  neck  and  head 
RAVEN-BONE,  the  spoon- 
bone      of      the      brisket, 
thrown  by  hunters  to  the 
ravens,     in    cutting     up 
the  ^tag 
REAVING,   thieving 
REDD,   to  clear,  tidy 
RED      WUD,       downright 

mad 
REEK,    smoke 
REESTED.    smoke-dried 
REMIGIUS,        NICOLAUS. 
or         NICHOLAS  OF 

REMY,  author  of  a  work 
on  witchcraft  (1595) 


REPONED,  used  as  a.  re- 
ply 

REVERENCE,  BACON 
WITH,  bacon  with  its 
garnishlnga  or  belong- 
ings 

RIFLER,  a  hawk  that  doe? 
not   return   to  the   lure 

RING-WALK,  the  track  of 
a  stag 

ROAR  YOU  AN  'TWERE 
ANY  NIGHTINGALE. 
See  Midsummer  Night's 
Dream,    Act  i.,    Sc.    2 

ROUND,    to   whisper 

ROUP,    an    auction 

RUDAS,   a  scolding  Jade 

RUNLET,  a  barrel,  hold- 
ing  ISVi   gallons 

SAE,    so 

ST.  CLAIR  TO  CROSS 
THE  ORD  ON  A  MON- 
DAY. The  Earl  of  Ork- 
ney, chief  of  the  S:n- 
clairs  or  St.  Clairs,  ltd 
his  men  on  a  Monday 
over  Ord  Hill  on  the 
way  to  Flodden,  where 
they  alJ  perished  to  a 
man 

SAINT  GERMAINS,  near 
Paris,  where  James  II. 
held  court  during  his 
exile 

ST.  MARGARET,  niece  of 
Edward  the  Confessor 
and  wife  of  Malcolm 
Cammore;  her  day  is 
June  10th 

SAIR,   sore 

SAMYN,   same 

SANT,   a  saint 

SARABAND,  a  Spanish 
dance 

SARK,   a  shirt 

SAUL,    a  soul 

SAUMON,   a  salmon 

'.'AUT,    salt 

RCART,   a  scratch 

:-CAUD,    to   scald 

SCLATB,  a  tiate;  SCIJIT- 
ER,   a  slater 

SCOTCH  PINT— 3  Engllak 
pints 

SCOTTISH  MILE,  nearly 
nine   furlongs 

SCRAUGH,  a  screech, 
loud,   discordant  cry 

S  C  R  E  I  G  H,  to  shriek, 
scream 

SCUNNER,  to  loathe, 
shudder   with   aversion 

SERE-XE  AND  SILENT 
ART  (painting).  See 
Campbell's  Stan&as  to 
Painting 

SETS,    becomes,    suits 

SEVEN  SLEEPERS,  mar- 
tyrs of  Ephesus,  who, 
according  to  the  legend, 
slept  in  a  cave  from  the 
reign  of  the  Emperor 
Declus  to  that  of  Theo- 
doslus  II.,  a  period  of 
19<  years 


818 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 


SEVEN  WISE  MASTERS, 
til*  seven  sages  of  aa< 
cient  Greece 

SHAUGLE,  to  wear  down, 
sliuffls 

SHINS  TO  PINE  (punish), 
«.  g.  the  torture  of  the 
boot 

SHOT  OP,  TO  BE,  to  get 
quit  of 

SHOVEL-BOARD,  a  game 
In  which  the  players 
strive  to  shove  or  drive 
coins  or  counters  on  to 
certain  marks,  lines,  or 
squares    on    the    table 

SIC,    SICCAN,   such 

SINGLES,  the  talons  of  a 
hawlc 

SIR  EVAN  DHU,  Sir  Even 
•Cameron  of  Lochiel,  a 
famous  Highland  chief, 
and     supporter     of     the 

■  Stuarts,  fought  at  Kil- 
lecrankie  in  1689 

SIR  JOSHUA,  1.  e.  Sir 
Joshua  Reynolds,  the 
painter 

S  K  I  O  C  H  NOCH  NA 
SKIAILL,  cut  a  drink 
with  a  tale,  1.  e.  Don't 
preach   over   your   liquor 

SKIEL,   to  scream 

SLIDDERY,    slippery 

SLOREN,  to  slake,  quench 

SNAP,  a  small  ginger- 
bread 

6NECKDRAWING,  cun- 
ning; SNECKDRAWER, 
an  artful,  cunning  per- 
son 

BNISHING,  SNEESHIN, 
SN.EESHING,    snuff 

SOOPIT,    swept 

SOOTHFAST,  trusty,  hon- 
est 

SOPITE,  to  settle,  set  at 
rest 

SORT,  to  supply,  suit;  to 
give    a   drubbing 

SOUGH,  a  rumor,  whis- 
per; SOUGHED,  softly 
breathed,    whispered 

Pni'P,    a    sup;    mouthful 

SOUPLE,  a  cudgel 

SUWENS,  a  kind  of  gruel 
made  from  the  soured 
siftings   of   oatmeal 

SPAE,    to   foretell 

p  P  A  N  I  S  H  GENERALS 
AND  PRINCE  OF 
ORANGE.  William  of 
Orange  commanded  20.- 
000  Spaniards  in  the 
campaign  against 
France    1554-5T 

SPEER,  to  ask.  Invite, 
inquire 

SPtRENGERUS.  Jacob 
Sprenger,  joint  author 
of   Malleus    Maliflcarum 

SPULE-BANE,  the  shoul- 
der-blade 

SPUNK,   a  spark,   match 

SPURS,  DISH  OP.  Scott's 
ancestress,  the  Flower 
•t    Yarrow,    Is    said    to 


have  reminded  her  lord, 
Auld  Wat  of  Harden,  a 
celebrated  Border  raider, 
that  the  larder  was 
empty,  by  placing  on 
the  table  a  dish  con- 
taining a  pair  of  clean 
spurs — a  hint  to  ride  in- 
to England.  See  Lock- 
hart's  Life,  vol.  i.,  p. 
93 

STEADING,  a  farm,  farm- 

;    yard 

STEER,    to   disturb 

S  T  I  C  K  I  T,  imperfect, 
broken   down 

STOUP,    a   liquid   measure 

STOUTHRIEF  robbery 

with    violence 

STRAE,    straw 

STRAUGHT,  to  stretch, 
make    straight 

STREIK,  to  stretch,  lay 
out 

SUB  JOVE  FRIGIDO,  In 
the    open    air 

SUBURB,  outlying  (dis- 
trict,  place) 

S  U  M  P  H,  a  blockhead, 
dunce 

SUNE,    soon 

6URBATED,    foot-sore 

SUUM  CUIQUE  TIRIBUI- 
TO,  give  to  each  his 
own 

SWANKING,   active,  agile 

SWAP,  a  barter,  ex- 
change; to  strike  sound- 
ly 

SWAUK,  a  swack,  thwack 
violent   blow 

fWIRE,    a  mountain   pass 
YBO,    a   young  onion 
SYCORAX,     a    witch,     the 
mother    of    Caliban,     in 
Shakespeare's   Tempest 
SYND,   to   rinse 
SYNE,   since,  ago 


TACK,  a  lease,  possession 

TAID,  a  toad 

TAIT,   a  bunch,   handful 

TAKE  ONE'S  GAIT,  to  go 
one's  own  way 

TAP  OF  TOW,  bunch  of 
tow  on  the  distaff,  that 
readily  catches  fire 

TASS,   a  glass 

TAURIDOR,   a  bull-flghter 

TEIND,    a   tithe 

TENONY,    stringy,    sinewy 

TEUGH,    tough 

THICKSET,  a  kind  of 
fustian,  resembling  vel- 
veteen  in   appearance 

THOMAS  THE  RHYMER, 
of  Ercildoune  (Earlston) 
in  Berwickshire,  an  an- 
cient Scottish  poet  and 
prophet,  and  a  favorite 
legendary    hero 

"THOU  SWEETEST 
THfNG,"  etc.  (p. 186), 
from      Joanna      Baillie's 

'  Constantine  Paloeologus, 
Act  U.,    Sc.   2 


THOWliBSS,  Inactive,  p» 
miss 

THRAW,  to  twist  Itself, 
distort  itself;  a  twist 

THREEP,  KEEP  HER. 
See   Keep  her  threep 

THROUGH  -  STANE, 
THRUCH-STANE,  a  flat 
gravestone 

TIMMEiR,  timber;  TIM- 
MER  BURSE,  the  ex- 
change of  the  timber- 
merchants 

TIPPENCB,    twopence 

TOCHER-GOOD,   dowry 

TOD,    a  fox 

TOD'S  DEN,  also  called 
in  other  passages  Tod' a 
Hole,  and  stated  to  be  5 
to  6  miles  from  Wolf's 
Crag* 


•A  few  other  irregulari- 
ties of  a  similar  kind  oc- 
cur in  this  novel;  as  Lady 
Ashton  is  called  Marga- 
ret and  Eleanor;  Glraer, 
John  and  Gibbie;  the  sex- 
ton, Mortsheugh  and  Mor- 
theuch 


TOKAY,  a  flery  Hungar- 
ian  wine 

TOLBOOTH,   a  Jail 

TONGUE  OF  THE 
TRUMP,  the  part  of  a 
jew's-harp  that  makes 
the  sound;  hence  the 
essential  or  principal 
person    concerned 

TOUT,  the  pet;  a  fit  of 
ill-temper 

TRAPRAIN,  or  TRAP- 
RAIN  LAW,  a  conspic- 
uous conical  hill  4 
miles  east  of  Hadding- 
ton 

TREDRILLE,  a  .game  of 
cards  played  by  three 
persons 

TRISTEM,  SIR,  a  knight 
of  the  Round  Table,  fa- 
mous in  the  chase 

TWA,    two 

TWAL,  twelve ;  TWAL 
PENNIES  SCOTCH— one 
penny  of  English  money 

TWILT,     a     quilted     bed- 
cover 
UMQUHILE,         deceased, 
late 

UNA,  the  heroine  of  Spen- 
r    ser's   Faerie    Queene 

UNCO,    uncommon 

VAIK,    to   be    vacant 

VERSAILLES,  the  court 
of  Louis  XIV.   of  Prance 

VIA  FACTI,    by   force 

VIRGINALS,  an  old  sort 
of   piano 

VISIE,   an  inspection 

VISNOMY,  physiognomy, 
face,   features 

VIVBRS,    vlctuali 


GLOSSARY 


818 


WADSET,  a  mortgage, 
pledge;  WADSETTER,  a 
usurer,    mortgagor 

WAE,    woe ;    woful,    sorry 

WAME,    belly 

WAP,   a  smart  stroke 

WARE,    to    spend,    bestow 

WARLOCK,  a  witch 

WASTLAND,  west  coun- 
try 

WAT,   to  wet 

WATER  -  PURPIB,  the 
brook  lime  or  horse- 
well   grass 

WAUR,  worse 

WEAN,   an  infant,   small 

cbiia 


WEID,   a  feverish  cold 
WHAMPLB,   a  blow 
WhEEN,    a  few 
WHIGMALEERIES,    fancy 

toys 
WHILES,    now   and   agin 
WHIM-WHAM,      fancy 

pastry 
WHIN  -  BUSH,      a     furze 

bush 
WHINSTANE,  greenstone, 

ragstone 
WHITE-H.\SS,       a      meat 

pudding 
WHOMBLING,         turning 

upside  down 


WIUAWINS,    woe's    me, 

well-a-day 
WILL   TO   CUPAR    MAUN 
,.    TO     CUPAE,     a     wilfui 

man      must      have      his 

way 
WIN,   to   make   way,   get 
WIND    HIM    A    PIRN,    to 

cause    him    trouble,    an- 
noyance 
WITHIE.      the      gallows, 

halter 
WON     INTO,     made    way 

into 

YESTREEN,     yesternight 

YILL,    a!e 

TOWU  to  gtre  tongue 


INDEX 


A.LICE,  Old,  31,  84  ;  visited  by  Sir  W. 
Asliton  and  Lucy,  35  ;  by  Lucy  and 
Ravenswood,  169  ;  warns  Ravenswood, 
173  ;  her  death,  214  ;  laid  out  by  tlie 
old  women,  316 

Armitage  churchyard,  219,  220 

A.shton,  Colonel  Sholto  Douglas,  28 ; 
resents  Ravenswood's  intrusion,  281 
opens  the  door  of  bridal  chamber,  294 
challenges  Ravenswood  at  the  funeral 
300  ;  waits  for  Ravenswood,  304 

A.shton,  Henry,  27  ;  his  terror  at  Ravens- 
wood, 164  ;  shoots  the  raven,  180  ;  begs 
ribbon  and  wire  from  Lucy,  264  ;  dis- 
tresses Lucy,  269 ;  his  pleasure  in  his 
new  clothes,  278  ;  rides  to  the  wedding, 
290 

Ash  ton.  Lady,  17;  her  matrimonial  views 
for  Lucy,  192  ;  her  gracious  reception 
of  Craigengelt,  197  ;  her  carriage  races 

with  the  Marquis  of  A 's,  202;  vents 

her  resentment  against  Sir  William, 
205  ;  bids  Ravenswood  leave  the  castle, 
207  ;  her  reply  to  Ravenswood's  letter, 
252 ;  manages  Bucklaw's  interview 
with  Lucy,  259  ;  persecutes  Lucy,  207  ; 
signs  the  marriage  articles,  279  ;  ad- 
duces Scripture  against  Ravenswood, 
284  ;  her  subsequent  history,  305 

Ashton,  Lucy,  26  ;  takes  her  father  to 
Old  Alice,  33  ;  rescued  from  the  wild 
bull,  41 ;  makes  an  impression  on 
Ravenswood,  47  ;  at  the  hunt,  88,  93  ; 
finds  shelter  at  Wolf's  Crag,  93  ;  her 
terror  at  the  storm,  103  ;  manner  to- 
wards Ravenswood,  153  ;  guides  him 
to  Old  Alice,  169  ;  betrothes  herself  to 
Ravenswood,  178 ;  her  relations  with 
him,  185 ;  her  letter  to  Ravenswood, 
254  ;  her  interview  with  Bucklaw,  260  ; 
her  trials  and  distresses,  266  ;  put  un- 
der Ailsie  Gourlay's  care,  271  ;  sub- 
jected to  Bide-the-Bent's  influence, 
275  ;  signs  the  marriage  articles,  279  ; 
meets  Ravenswood's  challenge,  284  ; 
on  her  wedding  morning,  289  ;  discov- 
ered a  maniac,  295  ;  her  burial,  298 

Ashton,  Sir  William,  15  ;  informed  of 
the  tumult  at  Lord  Ravenswood's 
funeral,  23 ;  his  reflections  thereon, 
24  ;  and  his  daughter,  29  ;  visits  Old 
Alice,  33 ;  encounters  Ravenswood, 
46  ;  tones  down  his  report  of  the  tu- 
mult, 49  ;  accosts  Ravenswood  at  the 
hunt.  90  ;  asks  shelter  at  Wolf's  Crag, 
98  ;  his  conciliatory  bearing,  101,  109, 


130 ;  strives  to  disarm  Ravenswood's 
enmity,  133,  144  ;  sounded  by  Marquis 

of  A 's  agent,   136  ;   reconciled  to 

Ravenswood,    151  ;   his  attention    to 
domestic  matters,  184  ;  awaiting  the 

Marquis  of  A 's  arrival,  198  ;  rated 

by  Lady  Ashton,  205  ;  threatened  with 
an  appeal  to  House  of  Peers,  251,  266  ; 
his  letter  to  Ravenswood,  253  ;  signs 
the  marriage  articles,  279 
Author,  his  Introduction,  ix 

Babie,  Alice's  attendant,  35 

Balderstone,  Caleb,  roused  by  Ravens- 
wood and  Bucklaw,  66  ;  his  subter- 
fuges, 68,  72,  94,  105,  147,  241  ;  collects 
the  driblets  of  claret,  72;  uncovers 
the  herrings,  82  ;  begs  Ravenswood 
to  invite  no  more  guests,  85  ;  shuts  out 
the  grooms,  96;  refuses  to  admit  Buck- 
law,  98  ;  announces  the  disaster  to  the 
dinner,  105  ;  his  relations  with  Wolf's 
Hope,  111  ;  his  requisitions  opposed, 
113  ;  enters  Girder's  cottage,  117  ;  car- 
ries off  the  wild-fowl,  121  ;  propitiated 
by  Girder,  127 ;  warns  Ravenswood 
against  the  Ashtons,  157;  forces  money 
on  him,  160  ;  reports  Wolf's  Crag  to  be 
burning,  234  ;  thanked  by  the  Girders, 
236 ;  tells  the  truth  about  the  fire, 
240  ;  his  anxiety  about  his  master, 
301 ;  last  entreaty  to  him,  303  ;  picks 
up  the  feather,  304  ;  his  last  days,  305 

Ballantyne,  James  and  John,  308 

Bide-the-Bent,  Rev.  Mr.,  at  Girder's,  123; 
employed  to  influence  Lucy,  275  ;  his 
prayer,  279  ;  tries  to  preserve  peace, 
283  ;  reads  the  texts,  285 

Birnie.  Patie,  fiddler,  225 

Bittlebrains,  Lord,  his  hounds,  83  ;  re- 
ceives the  Ashtons  and  Ravenswood, 
162 

Blenkensop,  Lady,  192 

Bride  of  Lammermoor.  /See  Dalrymple 
family  and  Ashton,  Lucy 

Bride  of  Lanunermoor,  the  novel,  Au- 
thor's Introduction  to,  ix 

Buchanan,  George,  jester,  308 

Bucklaw,  at  Tod's  Den,  ,52  ;  fights  with 
Ravenswood,  61  ;  takes  refuge  at 
Wolf's  Crag,  63 ;  complains  of  his 
lodging,  74  ;  sets  off  for  tlie  hunt,  84  ; 
cuts  up  the  stag,  89  ;  refused  admit- 
tance by  Caleb,  98  ;  becomes  Laird  of 
Girnington,  187;  sends  Craigengelt  to 
Lady  Ashton,  194  ;  discusses  his  own 
321 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 


marriage,  256 ;  His  Interview  with 
Lucy,  200 ;  signs  the  marriage  articles, 
279  ;  resents  Ravenswood's  intrusion, 
281  ,•  discovered  in  his  blood,  294  ;  his 
declaration  of  silence,  297 
Burial,  Scottish,  19,  298  ;  laying  out  of 
a  corpse,  216 

Cattle,  wild,  39 

Charms,  curing  by,  291,  812 

Chiesley  of  Dairy,  38,  307 

tIJoIdinghame,  Abbey  of,  219 

Craigengelt,  Captain,  at  Tod's  Den,  52  ; 
his  Jacobite  intrigues,  53 ;  turns  up 
at  Wolf's  Hope,  98  ;  carries  Bucklaw's 
challenge  to  Wolf's  Crag,  147 ;  be- 
comes Bucklaw's  factotum,  187 ;  his 
matrimonial  scheming,  191 ;  goes  as 
Bucklaw's  emissary  to  Lady  Ashton, 
196;  arrives  at  Ravenswood  Castle 
with  Lady  Ashton,  205 ;  discusses 
Bucklaw's  marriage,  255 ;  signs  the 
marriage  articles,  279 ;  spurned  by 
Ravenswood,  287 

Dais,  chamber  of,  247 

Dalrymple  family,  connection  with  the 

novel,  ix,  307 
Dingwall,  Davie,  the  writer,  113 
Duke's  Walk,  Edinburgh,  297,  313 
Dunbar  of  Baldoon,  x 

Fast  Castle,  xviii 
Footmen,  running,  199,  311 
Funeral,  Scottish,  19,  298 

Girder,  Gibbie,  116 ;  his  indignation 
against  Caleb,  123  ;  sends  sack  and 
brandy  after  him,  127  ;  his  gratitude 
to  Caleb,  236 ;  entertains  Marquis  of 
A ,  244 

Girder,  Mrs.,  118,  123,  236 

Girnington,  Lady,  53 

Glossary,  313 

Gourlay,  Ailsie,  at  Old  Alice's  216 ; 
nurses  Lucy,  271  ;  prophesies  evil  at 
her  wedding,  291  ;  at  her  funeral,  299 

Hamilton,  Sir  William,  of  Whitelaw,  xiii 
Hayston,  Frank.    See  Bucklaw 
Hospitality,  ancient,  132,  309 

Justice,  administration  of,  in  Scotland, 
16 

Kelpie's  Flow,  Caleb's  warning,  158 ; 
engulfs  Ravenswood,  304 

Law's  Memorials,  quoted,  xiii 
Lightbody,  Luckie,  117  ;  beards  Gibbie 

Girder,   124 ;  entertains  Marquis    of 

A ,  244 

Lockhard,  offers  Ravenswood  his  horse, 

86  ;  at  Wolf's  Crag,  98,  107 
Lockhart,  Sir  George,  38,  307 
*  Look  not  thou  on  beauty's  charming,' 

26 
Lord  Keeper.    See  Ashton,  Sir  William 
Loup-the-Dyke,  Dame.    See  Lightbody, 

Luckie 

Maooik,   the    paralytic    hag,   at   Old 


Alice's,  216  ;  at  Lucy's  wedding,  290; 
at  her  funeral,  298 

Marquis    of    A ,  78  ;    his    letter   to 

Ravenswood,  79  ;  sounds  Sir  W.  Ash- 
ton, 136  ;  racing  of  his  carriage,  203  ; 
interview  with  Lady  Ashton,  209 ; 
counsels  Ravenswood,  226 ;  enter- 
tained at  Gibbie  Girder's  244 ;  suc- 
ceeds to  power,  250 

Mermaiden's  Fountain,  legend  of,  42 ; 
betrothal  at,  176 ;  apparition  there, 
212 

Middleton's  Mad  World,  310 

Mortsheugh,  the  sexton,  218  ;  interview 
with  Ravenswood,  220  ;  at  Lucy's  wed- 
ding, 290 

Mysie,  Caleb's  helper,  67,  70,  110 ;  her 
supposed  danger,  235 

Norman,  the  forester,  29 ;  quoted  by 
Henry  Ashton,  181 

Painting  and  poetry,  10 
Parliament,  appeal  to,  140,  146,  266,  310 
Pattieson,  Peter,  his  Introduction,  1 
Poor-man-of -mutton,  310 
Privy  council,  Scottish,  51 

Ravenswood,  Lord  Allan,  14 ;  funeral 
of,  19 

Ravenswood,  Malise  de,  25  ;  his  picture, 
167,  293 

Ravenswood,  Master  of,  at  his  father's 
funeral,  20  ;  rescues  Lucy,  41 ;  declares 
himself  to  Sir  W.  Ashton,  46 ;  visits 
Tod's  Den,  57 ;  fights  with  Bucklaw, 
61  ;  lodges  him  in  Wolf's  Crag,  63  ;  his 
thoughts  of  Lucy,  76  ;  accosted  by  Sir 
W.  Ashton  at  the  hunt,  90;  shelters  him 
and  Lucy  in  Wolf's  Crag,  93  ;  begged 
by  Sir  W.  Ashton  to  put  awaj'  his  en- 
mity, 133, 146, 151;  contempt  for  Craig- 
engelt, 149 ;  warned  by  Caleb,  157 ; 
visits  Ravenswood,  162  :  accompanies 
Lucy  to  Old  Alice's,  169  ;  joins  Lucy 
at  the  fountain,  174  ;  his  betrothal, 
178;  his  relations  with  Lucy,  185; 
bidden  leave  Ravenswood  Castle,  208  ; 
sees  the  apparition,  212 ;  finds  Old 
Alice  dead,  214  ;  overhears  the  hags, 
216  ;  interview  with  Mortsheugh,  220  ; 

counselled  by  Marquis  of  A ,  226  ; 

is  told  the  truth  about  the  fire,  240  ; 
entertained  at  Girder's,  244 ;  letters 
to  the  Ashtons,  251  ;  Lucy's  reply, 
254 ;  interrupts  the  betrothal,  280 ; 
upbraids  Lucy,  285 ;  at  her  funeral, 
300  ;  dismisses  Caleb,  .303 ;  engulfed  in 
the  Kelpie's  Flow,  304 

Ravenswood  Castle,  14,  23 ,  saloon  at, 
163  ;  terrace  before,  198 

Running  footmen,  199,  311 

Rutherford,  Lord,  x 

Stair  family,  connection  with  the  novel, 
ix,  307  ;  satiric  verses  on,  xiii 

Symson,  Andrew,  of  Kirkinuer,  verses, 
by,  xiv 

'  The  monk  must  rise,'  81 
'  Thou  sweetest  thing,'  186 


INDEX 


S23 


Tinto,  Dick,  his  history,  8 
Tod's  Den,  or  Hole,  52 
Trumpeter  Marine,  233,  311 
Turntippet,  Lord,  51  ;  compelled  to  dis- 
gorge, 250 

Wallace  Inn,  Qandercleugh,  5 
'  When  the  last  Laird  of  Ravenswood,' 
ISA 


Wild  cattle,  89 

Winnie,  Annie,  at  Old  Alice's,  216  ;  at 
Lucy's  wedding,  290  ;  at  her  funeral, 
298 

Wolf's  Crag,  identification  of,  xviii ;  de- 
scription of,  65  ,•  banqueting-hall,  69  ; 
reported  burning  of,  234 

Wolf's  Hope,  113 ;  Caleb's  requiaitlons 

OD,  118 


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